The vox-speakers embedded into the troopship The Emperor's Gift's walls begin to chirp. It is an ancient ship, the pitted metal of its hull knowing the kiss of countless guns. The ship is small (For a troopship of the Imperium) and dwarfed by the massive engines mounted on the end. The ship has broken through many blockades, always with reinforcements for bloodied soldiers on countless worlds below (Its original name, the captain only knows).

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection, repeat, all guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection, repeat..." The speakers drum over and over again, as soldiers begin the controlled, smooth file from rec rooms and sleeping quarters towards the waiting dropships.

Each squad is assigned it's own quarters, to help keep the flow of men organized and coherent. Each squad is then assigned it's own equipment locker in the armory, and finally a dropship. The entire squad moves as one, and order is kept.

As you sit upright in your cramped bunk, you narrowly avoid hitting your head on the bunk above you (You've rapidly become rather deft at this). As you look about through sleep-blurred eyes, you see Sal'Adir leaning against a wall near the door, Eltori Loque rapidly dressing, and Ade snoring heartily in her bunk.

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection, repeat..." the speakers continue to chime.

I quickly pull on my combat tunic that I had left hanging on the railing beside my bunk. As I stand I call out to the fellows in my squad. "Allright ya apes, Lets get a blimmey move on we havent got all day.. Step Lively!" I grab up my webbing and begin to pull it on loosly, leaving it undone and hanging on my body. Walking over to Ade I raise my foot and use it to dump her and her mattress of the bunk. "I Said get UP Trooper". I turn around and look around the room for any more slow risers.

Sabbatine crawls out of bed with a mumbled swear word and pulls on her pants, which she'd left in a crumpled pile next to her bed. She cinches the belt tight to hold them up. They never had fatigues in her size, ever. The quartermaster said she'd have to wait a couple of years for even the smallest size to fit her. "Yeah, yeah, we heard you, stupid vox system, shut your trap." She mutters as she ties her short ginger hair out of her face in two short pigtails, making her look a little cute for her tastes, but it keeps her hair out of her eyes. It takes her a moment to find where she'd tossed her tunic the night before, and pulls it on mechanically before arranging her webbing. Her boots go on last, big black ones that are always a bit too large for her feet.

"Rise and shine everyone, it's time for a new day!" She says in a thick sarcastic tone, smirking all the while.

Gorel opens his eyes and stares up at the bunk above him for a bit. Not today, he swears as he sits up in the bunk...

And prompletly smashes his head into the bunk above him. Muttering various curses he swings his legs off the bunk and sits there for a moment, nursing his head. Reaching below him he grabs his foot locker and drags it out. Inside are various articles of clothing, the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, and another book whose title is too warn from use for you to see the entire title though the last word is most definitely wind... or maybe ward. Gorel grabs a shirt at random and pulls it on. As he brushes off the shirt he notices it has a rather large hole in it, though Emperor only knows what made it, and grabs a different shirt and pulls it on instead. "That was my favorite shirt too." He mumbles dejectedly as he closes his foot locker. Last on go the boots, snug well fit boots not to loose not to tight, perfect for long walks. He smiles at the thought; a rare thing from him, thinking of a rather strange shoemaker in his book who said the same thing about the shoes he gave the main character. Rising to his feet, and being careful not to smash his head again, Gorel takes a quick look around and then leans casually against the bed frame.

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection, repeat..."

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection”

“All right ya apes, Lets get a blimmey move on we haven’t got all day... Step Lively!"

Elias winced slightly as he rolled himself over to the edge of his bunk and sat on the edge, reaching down to grab the uniform he had discarded during what he was pretty sure was the last sleep cycle. Can’t decide what is more annoying, the crappy vox blaring in this ancient tin can, or the damn mannerism of the “Master Warrant Officer ”. At least dirtside I’m going have a passable vox to listen to all day. After sorting out which way is front and belting up his pants, Elias stretched and pulls on his jacket, yawning prodigiously as he does.

Once the uniform had been situated, Elias sat down on the edge of his bunk, and thrust his feet into his boots. Pulling on the laces he ties them extra tight, with a mind for the guaranteed combat drop that the vox was going on about. You shouldn’t have to tie your laces in combat. The sound of the sergeant dropping Ade’s mattress to the deck catches Elias’s attention as he starts to go down on his knees facing the icon of the Emperor taped onto the bulkhead he sleeps against, his hands clasped in the Aquila. Prayer first, the inspection be damned. There are priorities in life; and prayer is probably the only one of them that I’ll be able to do until the next shore leave.

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection, repeat..."

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection”

Ade cries out as she hits the cold deck plating. She shoots up rubbing the back of her head, and as soon as she opens her bleary eyes, she gives a quick salute and hastily dresses. The vox speakers continue to chime. Sal'Adir begins to pace; he's impatient to get underway.

"All guardsmen, report to the armory for preliminary gear inspection, repeat..."

I look up to the wall mounted Vox unit with a contemptuous sneer. I then look back around the room, noting that most of them were ready to go. "Allright ladies lets get a move on" I look around quickly "Well come on ladies, do you need a personal invite from the God-Emperor? Double Time" I order. Suiting word to action and starting out into the hallway.

I stop by the door and wait for the rest of the squad to move by. "Denson ... Take the lead, any of you think about straggling, I Will be introducing you to my Favorite drill cane Verra... Understood!?" I call out loud and clear. I shift my webbing around on my body, getting it done up as I jog through the hallway.

"Yes, sir." She replies, still a bit sleepy. She yawns as she jogs down the corridor to the armoury, her boots thudding heavily on the steel deck plating. As soon as the sergeant turns his back to her, she sticks her tongue out at him. "But that invitation would be nice. Do you think He would send one if you asked nicely?" She grins. Her faith in the God-Emperor is absolute, but it's a reflex to poke fun at the sergeant. The trip to the armory is short, fortunately, giving her few more opportunities to get herself into more trouble.

"Well come on ladies, do you need a personal invite from the God-Emperor? Double Time"

Elias grunts as he rises from his quick prayer. Every day of his life had started with a prayer to the Emperor, as far back as he could remember, and some foreigner sergeant wasn’t about to break that streak. The day that I don’t pray to Him, I’ve probably gone to meet Him.

Elias matches pace with the squad as he makes his way to the armory, not wanting to find out if the threat of violence will materialize.

"But that invitation would be nice. Do you think He would send one if you asked nicely?"

A bit of a grin presents itself on Elias’s face as he hears the squad’s sniper girl, Sabbatine, start with her first quip of the day. And if the past however the hell many days in transit were anything to go by, she was merely getting warmed up. He winks at her behind the sergeant’s back, “Nothing like starting the day off right, eh?”

"Well come on ladies, do you need a personal invite from the God-Emperor? Double Time"

Gorel quickly pulled on his webbing, through his book in one free pocket and his primer in a different one. He quickly fell in line behind Elias and followed the squad through the long halls of the ship.

Following the basic instinct you've learned from ceaseless months aboard a vessel you hustle through endless corridors. The first icy waves of relief are beginning to flood through your blood, the uncoiling of a massive spring caused by months in close quarters and no combat. Finally an opportunity to bring the emperor's wrath to heretic and daemon alike. You know when you hit dirt you'll chide yourself for such foolish thoughts.

In the armory each trooper selects their lasgun, autocannon, or other favored method of ending the lives of others. Sergeant Kolia checks everyone over twice, making sure everyone has their full kit/rations etc, then leads the eager soldiers through more narrow corridors and out into the hangar. The gaping maw of the dropship the squad is assigned to awaits. Kolia checks everyone's five-point harnesses to ensure they'll come loose not a damn second before they're supposed to. Troops are seated in two rows of four seats, your squad still hasn't received a replacement for it's 8th man that it lost in the previous campaign, and the empty seat seems ominous.

The squad is the first to finish kitting out and finish strapping in, but in mere minutes the hold fills. The pilot begins powering up the engines as the CO stands up and begins his briefing. Your squad is near the back of the ship and the whine of the engines drowns out his words. It hardly matters though, you know the drill. Follow orders given over the vox unit, failing that, kill all the damn cultists. You feel the entire ship rattle as what you assume to be the main batteries are probably opening up on the chaos fleet. That's not on your mind though. Your fight is not across cold expanses, separated by ceramite and steel. Your fight is not a cold, civilized sport, your fight is point blank lasgun fire, of bayonet and laspistol, the smell of promethium and scorched flesh.

Your heat skips a few leaps as the lighting dims and the dropship lurches, as you and a hundred of your fellow guardsmen began to sing the litany of the emperor. Your dropship hurtles through the magcon field and to the planet below.

As the dropship screams through the air, the sky becomes thick with the projectiles of heretic guns that have been set up below. You can hear the crazed staccato of hundreds of barrels all firing wildly up into the air, at you and your kin. Just barely, over the roar of the engines and the howl of the wind, you can hear explosions in the air all around you.

Suddenly there is an explosion much closer. The cabin lurches sharply and suddenly begins to spin. You spin faster and faster as anti-aircraft rounds shear spirals in the hull of the dropship. A man sitting with the squad in front of you doesn't have time to scream as tracer rounds disembowel him where he sits. Blackness closes over your vision.

You awaken in your seat, to the crackling of some exposed electrical conduit. Your squad's seating was close to the docking ramp. A good thing, too, the rest of the ship is nearly flattened. Red fluid seeps out from under the crumpled metal. Sal'Adir reaches up and gingerly touches what used to be his right ear. His hand recoils when he touches the bloody scraps of flesh, as if burned.

Outside, the sounds of battle rattle through the decimated city streets.

I hit the quick release strap on my seat and jump up. Grabbing my rifle into my hands I look around at my squad. "Somebody check Sal'adir... The rest of you get up and come on we aint on no tea party time. Were here to be about the Emperors holy work now come on!" I shuffle to the ramp and peer out las rifle ready in case I need to shoot. I muter a quick litany of protection under my breath. "Sound off" I call out to my squad.

Frak me…

Elias cautiously opened one eye, peering as if expecting reality to suddenly collapse in on itself again, before opening his other eye when it doesn’t. He stares at the crumpled front end of the drop ship as he pats himself down, unconsciously feeling to see if he is injured; his mind still numb. Having judged himself as intact as any human lucky enough to survive a crash like this one, Elias smacked the quick release button holding the harness that kept him in place, and stiffly rolled out of the chair. Emperor almighty does that hurt, Glancing at the lapping pool of red down by his feet, but less than that had to have hurt.

“Frak!” muttered Elias as he thought to check his most precious possessions, his vox and his shotgun. He swung his hefty unit off his back and took the time to give it a proper once over; making sure it was still operable. Guns be damned, it is proper communication that gets the Emperor’s Will done. Bracing himself for the worst, Elias pressed on his earpiece and tried to pick-up the situation on the ground over the radio.

Sabbatine had to hit the quick release button twice before it reluctantly let her out of her harness. The first thing she does is to check her longlas, sighing with relief to find it intact. She scrambles over to Sal'Adir, looking him over quickly to see if he's hurt anywhere but his ear.

"You okay? That looks nasty but it's not fatal. Come one, let's get going." She helps him undo his harness and stand. A quick glance at the red liquid seeping towards their feet makes the bile rise in her throat, and she swallows, giving a quick thanks to the Emperor that she was so lucky. She approaches the exit to the ship cautiously, letting the others go first. She is well aware that her weapon is not at all suited for close-range fighting.

"Elias, you got anything on the vox?"

Gorel hit the release button once, nothing happened. He hit it again, still nothing. He hit it a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth time, again, nothing. Sighing he checked himself over, nothing appeared broken, his weapons looked to be in decent condition, his hand was a little dented but still worked. "Sarge, I think I may have a problem."

Gorel becomes suddenly aware of the harsh stink of promethium. He glances down at the deck plating, and he sees a clear fluid beginning to mix with the blood and filth. Gorel suddenly becomes distinctly aware of the sparking of the electrical conduit not more than two feet from the steady creep of the promethium.

"I said sound off you sorry excuse for his majesties Imperial Guard".
"Sarge, I think I may have a problem."

I look around. I see Gorel unable to get out of his seat. I then see the pooling promethium and the electrical conduits. "oh Holy Frak.... Everyone out, take up positions in the nearest spot of hard cover you can find.. No questions Run!" I shout hurriedly as I sling my rifle over my shoulder, pulling out my oversized combat knife and going to work cutting at the straps holding him Gorel in place.

"Oh Holy Frak.... Everyone out!”

Elias looked up from the vox caster that he had been engrossed in, a quizzical expression on his face. It only took fractions of a second for him to spot the problem that everyone else had seen, and understand the necessity of getting out of the wrecked dropship.

“Oh, frak me sideways!”

It only took Elias a few more fractions of a second to grab the straps of his vox caster and to clutch his shotgun, and book out of the mangled wreck that had brought him to this new world, his eyes scanning for somewhere where he could take cover, as fast as he possibly could.

Shit. Shit! SHIT!

Gorel's eyes widen as he realises just what kind of danger he's in. Quickly he grabs his small punch blade and does his best to try to cut through the straps. Must go faster, must go faster. he thinks to himself as his eyes lock on the spreading prometheum. This is bad... real bad, no worse then normal mind you, but still real bad He chuckled a bit at his personal joke at his expense.

Sabbatine, almost out of the dropship, looked back to see the spreading promethium and the sparking electrical wire. She froze for a moment, a thousand options running through her head until she saw Gorel. "Frak me up the arse!" She was about to dash into the ship when she saw her sergeant get the jump on her, helping Gorel cut himself free. Deciding they had matters well in hand, she dashed towards the nearest form of cover- ruins, a crater, anything.

"Frakity Frak Frak!"

She dove to the ground behind cover and clutched her longlas against her body, shielding it from the blast. God-Emperor in Heaven, hallowed be thy name... She prayed for her sergeant and Gorel, hoping they were fast enough. She vaguely remembered her comment on the ship about invitations, and hoped He hadn't taken offense at her lighthearted joking.

"C'mon you lazy sack of bones, Cut Faster!" I Roar, my knife biting into the straps. "Oh why the feth these things have to stop working now...." I hurriedly glance over at the promethium, hopeing that I will have enough time to save Gorel. "Stupid freaking FNG's..." I mutter to myself, moving my knife to the next strap. "Ah well.. it could get worse... could have to face plaugebearers again..." I slightly shudder despite myself. "Allright thats it..." Snarling I grab Gorel by the straps of his combat gear and wrench him from the seat, preparing to bodily heave him out the door so they could both get away.

As the promethium reaches the ominously sparking conduit, the wires jump across the fuel, which bursts into flame. As the squad leaps out of the hold of the ship they see the ship has landed in the middle of a street wide enough across to fit three chimeras end to end in. The crumbling ruins of the skyscrapers above have started to shed huge chunks of duracrete, permeating the roadway below with no end of suitable cover. The squad dives behind one such massive chunk just as the fire climbs the trickle of promethium back to it's source, causing it to ignite in a massive red-orange explosion. Eltori cautiously pokes his head out of the side of the section of skyscraper. As he does, over the crackle of the promethium-fueled flames, you can hear a faint phoot. There is the sickening sound of blunt metal parting, as a near railroad spike-sized projectile smashes through Eltori's throat. The momentum carries him nearly six feet, his lasgun is launched from his hand another three as he hits the gritty road. He lies there, staring helplessly at the members of his squad. He just makes a croaking sound as his body attempt to adjust to the rapid introduction of a spike into his respiratory system. Bloody spittle begins to trickle down the side of his mouth. His bright blue eyes are welling up with tears as he fights just to breathe.

I glance around, wipeing the sweat from my brow. "Allright you lazy sons of..."

phoot

"Holy feth... Someone go see what you can do for him" I say coldly. I check to see my gear is in place. "Rest of you, pair off, take up defensive positions until I can figure out where we are... Elias.. with me I need your vox".

Elias pressed himself up against the secure middle of the concrete slab, and caught his breath as he tilted his helmet back to its correct position on his head. He took in his surroundings long enough to see Eltori get pitched out of cover with what appeared to be a really nasty wound.

“Elias, with me, I need your vox".

With that Elias slid across the ground over to the sergeant, keeping his precious vox unit and even more precious head out of the line of fire. Once he was in position, Elias started to take another listen into the unit, flipping through the different channels to hopefully get someone from higher up the chain of command. Or at least get a better idea of what the frak is going on.

Gorel looked out at Eltori, his blood pooling beneath him. With a resigned sigh, knowing that no one would want to partner with him anyways, Gorel looks at the Sergeant, "I'll go see if Eltori's ok sir." Gorel sighs again, drops his autogun, and sprints out towards Eltori. I hope to the Emperor that was just from the ship and not the enemy.

For several moments Sabbatine just sat with her back to the rubble, clutching her longlas like a child would hold onto a safety blanket or a stuffed animal. Still holding it tight in one white-knuckled hand, she looked at Eltori bleeding out on the permacrete. Her eyes go wide, and she starts crawling along the cover towards Eltori just as Gorel sprinted out to him. The stopped for a moment, and pulled the very basic first aid kit that all troopers were equipped with out, getting ready to help him. She wondered if it were even possible to stabilize a wound like that without advanced medicae facilities.

Emperor on Terra I hope he's not going to die, because with that kind of wound he'll linger and one of us will have to grant him the Emperor's Peace.

Gorel nears Eltori, and his intestines grow cold. On the head of the spike that is rammed through his throat there is an eight-pointed star cast in the metal. The spike has barbs that stick out of the sides. This was obviously a weapon designed to cause a painful death. As Gorel inspects his squadmate, the cultist hiding in the window fires again, with that faint phoot. The round rips into the meat of his left shoulder and sticks there agonizingly, barely missing his heart. Southward, along the street, you can see a mob of what could be called people, bristling with captured PDF lasrifles, swords, pistols, pipes for those who could not find anything better, running towards your current position.

"oh ... Great, make my Bloody Fething Day! Open Fire you grot fondlers!!" Suiting word to action, i bring my lasrifle up to my shoulder, gribbing it close and steady. I flick the safty off and slow my breathing, becoming one with the weapon. I sight along it towards the window where the spike had come from. I see a shadow and center in on it before shotting twice towards it. Uncaring If I hit the target, I switch to auto and let out a long burst into the approaching group of cultists.

"Denson, clear that window! Elias get me a link with command ASA Fething P! Mr. Adir, If you would be so kind as to give them a taste of our holy than though promethium? I would be Much Obliged!". I glance over at Gorel "Gorel, get small, how bad is it, can you shoot?" I yell out over the squads vox link

Elias wasn’t sure how long he spent with his hands pressed against the earphones that ran through his helmet and were connected to the vox unit strapped to his back. It was all he could do to hear the message through the din of explosions and gunfire in the background, as well as the horrid gasping noises of his dying squad mate. No attempt was drowning that out.

After a time Elias was able to decipher the message from the disturbances that surrounded him, and as he looked up to pass along the vox report, he saw the mob of Chaos scum advancing, decided it would be prudent to get small. Elias dropped down to prone and swung his shotgun up, pumping the slide before aiming as well as he could between the bulk on his back and his loose helmet.

Boom.

"Oh ... Great, make my Bloody Fething Day! Open Fire you grot fondlers!! Elias get me a link with command ASA Fething P!”

Chick-chack.

Elias started to shout over the immediate sounds of gunfire, his brows furrowed, and not just due to the stress of the situation. Great grasp of the fraking obvious, Captain Candar, glad you’re here to keep us in the loop.

“Command is a couple steps ahead of you, sir!”

Boom. Chick-chack.

“Orders are to rendezvous at point Beta!”

Boom.

“Nothing specific besides that order, mind you, but it sounds to me like someone up the chain wants us survivors to meet up where the armor and supplies came down!”

Elias paused and cocked his head thought, remembering the message he picked up before running out of the exploding dropship. He absent-mindedly pumped another cartridge into the shotgun again before he looked back to the sergeant.

“Let’s hope they made it, though, and that there are more survivors. More than a few birds must have had their wings clipped! All the air support is grounded until some Hydras start to get knocked out!”

Having done his duty for the moment, Elias rose up his shotgun and fired another booming blast from his precious shotgun. While he might not even be hitting anything, Elias realized that he didn’t quite give a damn. After the fiery descent planet side, and Throne knows how long of the sergeant’s shtick in transport, it just felt comforting to hear the weapon voice their combined anger again.

Gorel took the barbed spike stoicly, Well, guess that arms gonna be outta action for awhile. Probably shouldn't have thought about the spike being the enemy, the warp probably just materilized these guys here to spite me. With his one good hand he reached down to Eltori. "This is probably gonna hurt a bit El since I can't really pick you up anymore, but I'm not leaving you out here to them." He said with a sad smile even as he thought to himself, Of course since I'm the one dragging you you're either gonna die of that wound before we get back to cover or one of these cultists are gonna shoot you on the way.

Grabbing onto Eltori's webbing Gorel crouched low and started dragging him towards the cover, doing his best to keep Eltori's head up enough so that the spike didn't drag along the ground.

Sabbatine was already setting her sights on the window when her sergeant ordered her to clear it. She took a deep breath, and all the tenseness in her shoulders relaxed, her stomach settled, and her mind became clear. This peace of mind was familiar and very welcome in chaos that had followed the crash. She blinked slowly and looking for the enemy sniper in the window who was shooting the spikes. She whispered a prayer for marksmanship, and pulled the trigger slowly so she wouldn't foul her aim by tensing at the wrong time.

God-Emperor on Terra, guide this shot, let it fly true and kill Your enemies, in Your name I pray, amen.

The sergeant's lack of aim is rewarded by not even hitting the window. He swivels around, and rakes the mob, but again, most of his burst flies wide due to the erratic firing pattern that spinning 180 degrees while firing often forces men to adopt. Elias' shots are slightly more rewarding, with some grim satisfaction he notes a few of the mob's number waver, but the range is too great for significant effect. As Gorel drags Eltori behind cover, the man gurgles, but whether in thanks or pain he cannot tell. Sabbatine levels her longlas, and the shot is almost too easy. The cultist's shaven skill fills her scope, which strikes he as overkill, anyone with a stock lasgun and patience to aim could kill him. She pulls the trigger, and a gratifying gout of sizzling blood spatters the wall behind him. he falls forward, sans forehead, slumped on the window sill. His weapon falls to the ground and smashes into several pieces. The mob has now leveled whatever excuses for firearms they have, and have begun firing wildly. Ade rolls over the squad's cover, to the other side, steadies her lasgun on the permacrete, and begins firing in quick bursts. Adir narrows his eyes, murmurs to Kolia, "Too far, Sergeant Candar," then, keeping low and out of sight, he moves up to a chunk of cover slightly closer, obviously preparing to catch the cultists unawares with the Emperor's promethium.

I steady my breathing as my instructors back at the academy had drilled into me. Letting my mind adopt the void. I think coldly, logicly, ignoring the rocks jabbing up into my stomach. I bring my rifle back up to my shoulder and carefully sight in on the head of the lead figure. I track my target for a second before pulling the trigger smoothly. Feeling the bite of the weapons recoil into my arm. I move onto the next target. A hulking brute waving a large metal spike. I again follow him for a second before letting off a shot. "very well Adir Be ready when they get in range. Listen up, when he opens up, wait 8 seconds, then chuck a frag. Lets try not to let them get to close now shall we people?" I ask, slipping my knife out of its sheath and attaching into the bayonet lug of my weapon. "But just in case... Fix bayonets!" I order. Settling down again, readjusting my position for the added weight of the bayonet, I rake the advancing mob with fire again.

"Guys, Eltori needs some medical treatment now. I don't have a medicae kit on me, and I'm not very good with them anyways." Besides if I tried to fix him up he probably have some form of complication later, "Can anyone else help him?"

Gorel reached down and grabbed his autorifle. There was no way he was going to be able to take good aim with his left arm outta action but the enemies seemed pretty closely packed and there were alot of them. Deciding that he had the ammo to spare he did his best to prop up the gun on the wall and then fired off a clip on full auto, spraying left and right. After that he dropped back behind cover where he would probably stay until the fighting got close enough for hip shots to be semi-accurate.

"Take my kit, Gorel. Stabilize that spike as best you can. If we remove it, he'll bleed to death before he can asphyxiate." Sabbatine tossed him the pouch that had been on her belt. It didn't have more than some gauze bandages, a few painkiller pills, some antiseptic, and a couple small vials full of poison. Theoretically, the soldiers were supposed to use them if they were about to be captured.

She smirked coldly at her sergeant, a little note of triumph in her voice. "Looks like someone didn't pay attention in marksmanship. Is your eyesight going, gramps?" She set up her gun on the top of their cover and looked through the scope, the familiar feeling of peace settling over her as she fired methodically and slowly, taking her time to make sure her shots hit.

Elias felt a bit of satisfaction as he saw some of the heathens falter in their advance towards the squad due to his fire, but not enough to counteract seeing the filthy mob level their weapons and start to fire wildly in his general direction. The first few wicking shots are enough to make him shuffle himself along the ground to the first available position of cover rather than exposed in the middle of the street.

“Listen up, when he opens up, wait 8 seconds, then chuck a frag. Lets try not to let them get to close now shall we people? But just in case... Fix bayonets!"

Elias kept himself as tight to cover as he could, reaching into a thigh pocket for more shells. Having a gun half full at the moment wasn’t a reassuring thought when a pack of lunatics were running at him, and Elias quickly deduced that emptying a fully loaded shotgun would cause more damage rather than a single grenade before things really got messy. In preparation for when the gun ran out of ammo, Elias unlatched his pistol holster, ready to continue shooting the moment it happened.

In a matter of a few seconds as he loaded his weapon, Elias started to subconsciously put together his game plan, the jumpiness flowing out of him as the old familiar feeling of up close combat replaced it.

No go on the grenade, my shotgun is better at sweeping the damn street. Empty my baby as quickly as fraking possible, preferably if I’m still alive, as the flamer will provide a distraction once he opens up with it. Until that happens, hug the cover. Captain Candar and the sassy little bumpkin haven’t found real cover, so the Emperor is with them, even when they can’t help themselves. After that, be ready to go to business up close and personal with my knife and pistol, and anything else at my disposal, should we manage to frak it up that badly.

As the Candarian Sergeant scythes down the apparent leader, an ice-cold lump of fear his the bottom of his stomach. Behind the ravening cultists stomps a figure, wearing ancient, rusted armor. His bloated flesh pokes through seams in his armor, and his helmet reminds you of the gas masks every guardsman is issued. His boltpistol is pitted and corroded, and he carries a chainsword that sloughs vile green ooze. Now you see why the humans charge so fervently towards you. His armor hurts your eyes to look upon, mind-blasting sigils are formed by the patterns of rot and rust. You can hear his breath rasping unnaturally through his armor. They close to twenty meters. The stench rolls in. Adir, who has been counting to himself stands tall from where he was crouching and lets fly a gout of burning promethium. The hardly armed or armored cultists scream and wail in the flames. The stench gets worse. Through the crackling flames, the armored figure shambles, his sickly green armor ablaze. Over the cries of dying men and women, you can hear the rasp of his lungs. He levels his filthy boltpistol and fires at Adir, blowing his left arm off above the joint, leaving exposed shards of bone, gouting blood, and red meat. Adir is screaming. The stench is overwhelming. The rasp of his lungs is heavy in your ears.

"Oh Holy feth... Allright boys and girls, New objectives... Get yourself clear, start pulling back. Fall back and swing around, get yourself's to point beta. Help the wounded as best ya can!". I turn away from them and softly begin to murmur "My lord deliver me from this abomination..." I pull out my nearly depleted pack and insert my hotshot pack. "Protect me from its foulness as I go about your holy work...." I Roll over behind a pile of rubble and prop my rifle up on it. I press my cheek to the stock and sight in on its head. "Guide my aim as you would guide my soul, Strengthen my arm as you would strengthen my heart..." I rest my finger on the trigger as I slow my breathing. I breath out, relaxing my body, holding my breath so as not to ruin my aim. I slowly tighten my finger on the trigger, the rifle bucks. The super charged shot flying towards the chaos marine. I switch out clips again and begin to half crawl half run towards Adir.

Gorel fumbled with the kit after he caught it.

"Looks like no one else wants to help you... so it's up to me, I'll try not to mess things up to bad." Gorel looked at Eltori apologetically. Doing his best he dabbed the gauze around the neck wound and then applied some antiseptic before dabbing up the blood again. "It's the best I can do, sorry."