'Behind Enemy Lines', The game begins...

[Lord Jacobus]

The stench of fire and burnt flesh hung heavy in the air. A few faint shafts of morning sunlight stabbing in through the open hatch to the lander. The front of the vessel had burned inside and out, reducing the crew and and the troops sitting farthest forward to crisped and blackend bodies. The deck sloped down and to the right at an angle just wide enough to be uncomfortable. Lieutenant Morris shook his head slightly, groaning with pain. he slapped at the crash webbing restraint, missing the catch. Trying again he succeded and stumbled to the ground with a yelp of pain as his right shoulder smashed into the hard decking.

He tried to remember what had happend. He recalled launching from the Indominatable in orbit. He also recalled the discussion he had had with Ophelia before the alarms had started sounding. But after that it all became a haze of yelling and scrambled movement as the troops had rushed to secure themeselves. But that was it, he didnt remember the crash at all, he must have blacked out sometime and only just awoke. He smiled ruefully imagining what the captain would say when he found out.

"Captain Miller..." he gasped, recognizing the stench in the air as he strugled to rise, a sense of despair settling around him as he did. He rememberd Miller telling him that he would be seated as close to the front as possible. "If your behind the cockpit m'boy, then you will never have to worry about getting off last" he had said shortly before bording. Morris staggerd down the sloping deck. Hoping against hope that he was wrong. He wasnt. He reached Captain Miller's seat and looked at his mortal remains. "Go with the Emperor my friend..." he choked out. He looked around the hold, noticing some faint movement in the seats. "Sound Off" he called out, working his way back up the deck to his seat, using the backs of the seats for leverage with his good arm. He reached his seat and grabbed his weapons. He connected the cord for his Hellpistol and holsterd it, Griping the hilt of his power sword he sheathed it. He moved off to see if Grenadier Ophelia was still with them.

[HoundofOrion]

Druss shook his head trying to dissipate the groggieness he felt after such a spectacular crash-landing. His vision was blurring, his head swimming.

"Sound Off"

Druss heard the Luitenant through the haze in his head, drawing strength from the regimented thinking he had been drilled with he shook off some of the concussion before punching the strap release on his seat, holding on to the straps he yelled back to the Luitenant.

"I'm here sah! No worse for the wear."

Looking around Druss reminded himself of his duty, of his position. First he strapped on his weapons, hauling his pack out of the crashed lander. Then he began waking up the remainder of his squad, disorientated as they would be. Moving from man to man me shook them, making sure they looked him clear in the eyes before moving to the next.

"Ye' heard the Luitenant! Sound off!"

[Henchman]

It is positively dark. Everything is at peace.

“Karl… what do you love about me the most?” asks the breathy feminine voice, the words escaping her pouting lips as slowly as her fingers twirl through brownish blonde locks.

“Well, there are too many things, my sweet,” the relaxed baritone drawl answers, the smile and tease evident from the tone, resulting in a soft musical peal of laughter.

“I’m being serious, what about me does it for you?” This results in a respectable amount of laughter from the two voices, which sounds as if both were made for each other.

“If I must limit myself,” returns the masculine voice before it is subdued momentarily by a quick chuckle “It would be your eyes, darling, the mirror to your very beautiful soul. Now come ‘ere. ”

The sounds of a passionate kiss replace the two distinct voices for quite some time, as two individuals give into each other. After some time of smacking, slurping, and slight sounds of pleasure, the two disengage. As they shift around, dark tresses now hang over the other like a willow tree, concealing a radiant smile that illuminates the world.

“I’ve got a secret for you,” whispers the same wondrous voice from the same exquisite lips, still framing a smile, as it descends from the heavens toward an awaiting ear.

“SOUND OFF” erupts into the ear, from the mouth that was so pleasant but a short second ago, which wilts under the barrage of distinctly unfeminine tones. With that, the dark fog is pierced by light as everything begins to tremble as if in an earthquake…

Karl Pulaski is snapped out of his blissfully inviting unconsciousness to an unhappy world. A feeling like his skull has been used for a kickball by a gang of juvies envelops his head as he blinks rapidly from behind the tinted blast goggles he wears over his eyes. Through the diminishing fog he can see a shape, which has grappled onto the front of his webbing and rattled him around good and proper. Shoving the goggles back over his helmet, Karl is rewarded with the face of Druss.

After taking another few seconds blinking like a stunned grox, Karl is able to snap his eyes into focus and acknowledge his sergeant with a nod and what is an attempt at an O.K. gesture with his thickly gloved hands. The sergeant seems satisfied with that and moves on to the next survivor, leaving Karl to make a few clumsy attempts at popping the release clasp of his seat before finally doing so.

Of course this doesn’t really help much when Karl tries to stand up and discovers that his legs have somehow turned to jelly. What was supposed to be a valiant attempt to stand turns into a pitiful slide to the decking. After a few more seconds of blinking Karl manages to push himself up off the ground and onto his backside, noticing a few loose items from his kit as he makes his move. The most important of which is the plasma gun, which conveniently propped up on the leg of one of his squad mates, which a quick look finds that the leg is conveniently detached from its owner.

With that Karl leans over to his left and manages to vent what little he didn’t expel during their fiery journey downwards on the deck next to him. Rasping in for breath with torturous gasps, Karl hears the sergeant repeating what sounds like the Lt’s order for sound off. Scrabbling around his belt, Karl reaches for his canteen and pries off the cap before taking a sip to wash out the taste.

“Pulaski, still kicking in the Name of the Emperor, Sir!” manages the usually relaxed baritone voice, which would usually be loud and proud, through strangled gasps for air.

[ezma]

Ilian shook his head. He had hit it against the side and blacked out as they crashed. He felt a faint trickle of blood running down his face. He shoved his helmet on, and was greeted with one or two voices shouting
SOUND OFF
His ears were still ringing as he shouted back
'Ilian Essen sounding off! I'm ok here sir!'
He grabbed the nearest lump and hauled himself up, his heavy boots crunching on the ground. He checked all his weapons and equipment. He had been lucky it seemed. He cast his mind back to his first mission, which he had been recounting during his subconsciousness. He remembered every vivid detail. The ork bodies strewn around, with the corpses of friends scattered among them. The heavy gunfire. The guttural roars of the beasts trying to break into the bunker. He still bore a scar from one of their cleavers on his right arm.
This mission was all too much like that mission. He looked around, saw the sergeant and put his right thumb in the air. He walked towards the sergeant, to see if he could help.

[warsmithazrael]

Hank hated flying, not just the landing, the falling, the take off, all of it. And crashing wasnt the best thing in the world. Still he was alive. He heard the lieutenant yell and instantly yelled back "Heartburn ready to fry!" Looking around he saw the rest of his squadmates either sounding off getting out of their seats. Smashing one of his large fists against the release lock he dropped to the floor. Quickly getting up he grabbed his equipment from the locker under his seat. Religiously he checked over his flamer, making sure nothing wrong had happened to it. Satisfied that it would fry the enemies of the Immortal Emperor he joined the rest of the squad.

[Seraphim]

Ophelia is jerked out of soft, comforting unconsciousness by the hard sound of someone shouting. Her violet eyes flutter open behind her goggles and she takes a deep breath that ends in a harsh cough. It takes her a few seconds to make her brain understand that the voice was making words, not just random sounds. It takes her quite a while longer to remember how to make her mouth shape words properly. She tries once, but all that comes out is a hoarse croak. She swallows, and tries again.

"Ophelia Winters, sounding off." She checks herself quickly for any obvious injuries. All limbs, attached and moving. No missing fingers. Her whole body is sore, but that's to be expected. With some difficulty she unclips the straps across her chest and lap. Stiffly, she stands, using the wall to support her weight.

"Groan if you're injured." She says as she begins going around to those still seated, checking their pulses.

[Jarhead_JR.]

Simon sat quietly at the most akward angle imaginable. He could only think about his light dream. The shouts of men and a women in the cabin were starting to wake him up. At first a white foggy daze. Then everything shifted black and he jolted up. He looked about. He shook his head when he heard the shouts for sounding off.

He looked down at his restraints. out of all the straps on him all were broke but two over his shoulders. He began to laugh loud. "SIMON GRATER REPORTING SIR! GUNS READY FOR FIRE!" He screamed. He pulled his knife and cut the restraints still laughing and standing up straight. He smaked his head cursing loudly as he bent down and picked up his shotgun. He rubbed his head as he cursed under his breath.

[Lord Jacobus]

The LT. stumbled down the bairly lit aisle. He could make out the moving shapes of some of his troops. He reached Ophelia and took her arm, pulling her away from the bodies. "leave them... their all dead, we cant waste our time here". He turned, wincing slightly at the pain in his shoulder. As he slowly moved back up the aisle the rest of the survivors called out. "SIMON GRATER REPORTING SIR! GUNS READY FOR FIRE!.... Corporal Duskin still here sir... Grenadier O'Riely still at it sah" A few others called out. By the time he reached the front hatch, a total of fourteen troopers had sounded off. Fourteen out of fifty... damn, what the hell happend He shook his head.

"Grenadier's O'Riely and Mackay, get out there and take watch" He orderd. Watching as they both moved out the hatch, taking up positions a few meters away. They both hunkerd down behind the rubble of the building they had crashed into. Morris turned around, "Sergeant, Get the rest of the troops ready to move out, had into the aft cargo module and find out if there's anything we can ta..." he never finished his sentenced. A flury of thwumps and a strangled scream that was abrubtly cut off could be heard. Morris turned as fast as he could. O'Riely was dead, his armour coverd in burn marks and his face almost completly burned to the bone. Mackay had not fared much better. A few smoking holes had been burned throuh his chestplate.

Morris's attention was caught by blurred movement farther out in the rubble. With a crackle, a burst of shots flew towards him, one of them taking him in the chest, leaving a crisped spheroid shape. Anoher biteing into the fatigues of his left thigh, right between the joints of two armour plates, the rest pattering against te far wall of the lander behind him. He screamed with pain. Inefectuly blasting off 3 rounds towards the aprroximate position of his assailant, before half crawling, half pulling himself from the open hatch. "Damn... fracking tau...pathfinders...in the cover of the rubble on the street, Gorram it". He yelled in pain again "Sergeant see what you can do, im out of this fight"

[HoundofOrion]

Druss saw the Luitenant fall, all hints of the earlier crash immediately dissipated. His focus now on the crisis at hand.

"Yes Sah! Right, Ophelia see to the Luitenant's wounds. Grater, go to the cargo module and bring out anything of use and prepare it to be moved. Pulaski, Essen, Heartburn, your with me. The rest of you, hold this position. We will try to draw the Tau away. Got that? Lets go!"

Flicking the safety off on his Bolt Pistol Druss led the way out of the wreck, depressing the power switch on his sword, a low humm filled the air and the sword crackled slightly as he moved. He ran, zig zag towards the cover of the ruined building the previous team had been killed in, they wouldn't be staying there though. They just had to make it to some cover and to draw fire from the lander.

[ezma]

Ilian saw Druss start running. He heard the orders. His combat instincts kicked in. He followed in suit of the sergeant, but running far enough away so that the Tau would have to mark him as another target. He raised his hellgun and fired a couple of shots as he followed into the ruins.

He looked at the Tau, trying to make out any targets as he ran, but he couldn't see much. He zig zagged my like his sargeant was doing. His heavy boots crunched on the ground as he sprinted.

[Jarhead_JR.]

Grater pulled his strap tighter as he heard heard the men outside. He bent to a knee and peared at the doorway were the burn marks were. He couldnt believe they had already got there and started fighting.

Suddenly the sergeants orders rang out into his head. "AYE SERGEANT!" He shouted as the man ran out the door. He turned and went to the back. As he opened it he could see smouldering ruins of what was papper and boxes. He sifted through it all and got out some ammo and a few packs but nothing was very salvagable. He came back out and went over to Ophelia.

"Anything I can do to help?" He asked as he reseated the weapon on his back looking down at his wounded officer.

[warsmithazrael]

Heartburn wasnt messing around. As soon as the first shots had started to kick off he ignited his flamer, ready to purge the taint from the world. "Aye sir!" He said over his vox link, aknowledging the sargeant before sending a huge burst of flames towards where he believed the shots had come from. As he jogged to catch up to the sergeant he sent more streams of fire leaping into the forest in an attempt to distract or at least catch on fire the tau scum.

[Seraphim]

Ophelia gasped when the lieutenant was shot, but quickly knelt by his side and began to investigate the wounds. Automatically she shoved her hand in her white medkit and drew out a plastic-wrapped syringe full of painkilling drugs. With a wound like this, pain could severely inhibit his ability to recover, and if she tried to move, he would only injure himself more. Her breathing was quick and uneven, but she went through the medical procedure with admirable alacrity, ducking to dodge enemy fire and tapping the syringe against a piece of twisted metal to get the bubbles out before shoving the thick, heavy-duty needle straight through his pants and into his thigh.

She shook her head at Grater. "Just pray for him." Her high voice was shaky as she peeled back the remains of her patient's armor to reveal the wounds. With gentle, careful touches, she probed the deep burns to see if she could save the man. "It may be the only thing anyone can do to help him."

[Henchman]

Karl drops onto the ground as the first impact and death sounds reach his ears, grabbing for his weapon as he does, managing to watch the Lieutenant get pegged by plasma shots. Ophelia is quickly over him, tending to his wounds. She knew what to do.

“Pulaski, Essen, Heartburn, your with me!” shouts the sergeant, immediately grabbing his attention. No more time to sit on your ass, Karl. Time to prove your worth to the Emperor.

Crouching and scuttling to the door, Karl slings his plasma gun over his chest. While he would normally trust the weapon, as he rigorously maintained it, having it bounce around the cabin during the crash worried him. Like hell was he going to test its stability at this moment in time. Instead Karl reaches to his hip and draws his sidearm, as there is no possible way for it to fail, and exits the wreck after the other survivors.

Hustling after the rest of the squad, Karl sends a few shots snapping off down range at where he assumes the Tau are, moving towards cover as he spots it.

[Lord Jacobus]

The Lt writhes in pain, laying on the angled floor of the lander. The stench of burnt flesh becoming stronger by the minute. He looked up at Ophelia. "H...How b..b..bad is it ddoc" he stuters. He grunts with pain as she pokes the needle into him. As the painkill flooded his system, a look of peace croosed his face. "D...d...doc" he looked up at her. "Tell... th..the sgt, tell him .. not to ...give up... you can all...mmmake it out...tell him that.. will you?". He rasped out, his voice quiet. His head rested to the floor as his body went limp. His glassy and lifeless eyes staring up at Ophelia. The hand that had been gripping her shoulder, fell lifelesly to the floor.

The Tau opend up on the running guardsmen. Pulse bursts flinging through the air and impacting around them. The fire from the flamer impacted on the rubble the Tau were using as cover, an unlucky pathfinder had just sprung up to shoot when he was engulfed in the cleansing fire, turning him to a crisped body. He fell back his weapon tumbling from its lifeless hands. The rest of the shots from the moving troopers fly wide, barely any of them even nicking the cover.

As the Sgt and his group moved out of the door, cpl. Duskin and the remaining 4 troopers coverd them from the open door and a rent in the hull. They sprayed shots at the Tau, hopeing to pin them down. Suddenly one of the troopers took a round to his visor, it crashed through and burned into his skull. He fell lifelessly, the others ducking down and barely poping out of cover to fire.