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Thread: [M] War in the Dirt - Imperials IC

  1. #41
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    Haven 14th Mechanized Defensive line Standing orders. Infantry engage hostile targets as best able, Chimeras prioritize transports and light armor. Engineers prep mortars and heavy weapons for support.

    Haven 14th Air asset: Standby until given the all clear, prep for flight and load all weapons.




    "Life before death,
    Strength before weakness,
    Journey before destination."
    -The First Ideal

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    Spoiler: Cam’s Lot Militia - Skaltine railhead 


    Spoiler: 14th Haven Mechanised - Skaltine railhead 
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


  3. #43
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    The doctrine of the Death Korp when it came to mechanized regiments was a bit odd to most. The 112th, in keeping with proper Krieg doctrine, primarily employed Storm Chimeras to be able to best engage in frontline assaults and get the troops into the fight as fast as possible. The slight increase in armor and the firepower given by the autocannons was a valuable asset for both them and their allies. But in this case they were acting more as infantry support to Gortz and her tanks which was not unpleasant. The Chimeras would still make the first charge as Alpha laid out to the other lower officers a modified version of their Sturm und Drang formation since they did not have to provide their own smoke cover.

    ‘On your mark, Alpha.’

    “Engage!” Watchmaster Alpha’s command was short and sweet. In moments the Chimeras rolled forth into the cover provided by the artillery. With the help of on-board auspex, the autocannons raked the block Gortz had indicated in a storm of fire to make way for the approach of the ground troops not huddled within the guts of the Chimeras.
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  4. #44
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    Gwendolyn knelt down behind a barricade to rest her tired mind. She had not used it so much since her training, her thoughts returning to the first day at that tower. Though it was difficult and only got harder, she formed many friendships. With her cherubim, her little girl close to her, she rested for a bit, allowing the pounding in her mind to subside. She felt, as she always did, the scratching at the fringes of her consciousness, as all psykers did, especially in moments of stress. But she was stronger than them. She was a chosen of The God-Emperor and of The Saint. She was stronger than it. She could almost see her face, as all Maidens could, and it was comforting and calming, and the scratching began dying down.

    Jurgen, on the other hand, did not rest. He stood, unmoving like a stone wall, a pillar of order and strength in a sea of chaos, as if he never got old, his booming commanding voice a reflection of the intense discipline of the Iron guard. Directing fire while also shooting, using his lasrifle to guide the others. He helped the driver get to safety, called for a medic and left him in the care of two female frateris. "Don't worry, son, you're going to be alright." He said, calling a courier to deliver the message to the mortars He then turned to his men.

    "Brothers and sisters, you have fought valiantly, and I am honored to serve alongside you. You have grown so much in such a short time. I know some of you might be scared, or unsure. But always remember, The God-Emperor stands with you, and though His glory and magnificence all things are possible. For even if you cannot see His footsteps beside you, that only means He carries you upon his shoulders. He gives His all for us every day, and we should do no less for him. Now, these rebels spit on everything He achieved, denying his love. Are we to stand for this? No, we shall show them the error of their ways through blood and steel." He turns to an older frateris, about in his early thirties. "Jankinson, Take your squad and go there." He signled to a collection of overturned railcars, blasted apart a bit by stray mortars. "That area will give you good bit of cover from the advancing enemy and their grenade, but will leave them completely exposed to you. We'll hold them down here, put your fire into them and we can drive them off. Remember, aim small, miss small." He says, finally, before sending them off. "It was a phrase and a technique he had been teaching them that he learned from his days in the guard. It was to not aim at a person, but at something on the person, like a buckle or button, some specific thing. The idea is even if you miss that thing you are aiming so precisely that you'll still at least hit the person.

    Having that done, he changed into a fresh power ell to his polished lasgun and continued firing and directing fire.

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  5. #45
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    Spoiler: Cam’s Lot Militia - Skaltine railhead 


    Spoiler: 14th Haven Mechanised - Skaltine railhead 
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


  6. #46
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    CAMPAIGN 2: AD MECH

    Spoiler: Legio Sirenia - Perinetus 
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  7. #47
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    ...

    “Sir!” the frater shouted at Jurgen, even though he was not an officer. “Sir!” The Patriot infantry were storming forward. “Sir, what do we do!?”

    ...

    Jurgen paused for a moment, looking over the field and over the brave men and women alongside him, some still only boys and girls in their youth. "Brothers...Sisters. I want you to always remember. What we do in life echoes throughout eternity. I have a plan. You all have done well, and had we had different fates, would would have made excellent guardsmen. I need you to channel that spirit one last time for me. Everyone has a place in the great plan of the God-Emperor, and today I know mine. My place was to lead you here today...and here I am to stay. I will not sugar coat it." He said keeping his stony Mordian resolve, an unyielding oak in a storm, sheltering those underneath it. "I go to meet The God-Emperor this day, and I do it gladly. All I need you all to do is to ensure that I don't meet him until my task is done. I am going to extract grenades from one of the fallen traitors, and use them against their armored beast. I need you all to focus, and give me covering fire while I do this. When I kill this machine, I want you to shout as loud as you can, and show them the strength of our wills, set upon them and tear them limb from limb. Ready? Line up!"

    Within the span of a few short moments, the militiamen were ready, and, upon a shout from Jurgen, who leaped over the cover he was using, began sprinting toward the fallen divinitory guard. The staccato fire of heavy stubbers echoed in his ear, but the scything lasfire from his brothers covering him made it difficult for the gunners to track him. One got lucky however and just as he leaped into cover where a traitor lay, cught him in the belly. Burning pain erupted all throughout his body, and he almost passed out. If he had been a lesser man, he would have. But he was a Mordian. That didn't mean it didn't hurt like drokker though. But he had no time to rest, his men needed him.

    Dragging himself to the traitor, he found what he was looking for. Two, small, oblong grenades, with smooth shells. Krak grenades, for taking out fortified positions...and vehicles. He was losing blood fast. He had to move. "Oh Great God-Emperor thou my rock, and -urk- my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in..in whom I trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, *cough* and my high tower." He drug himself along, struggling to his feet. " Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Blessed are thee, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." He began to run, right at the rear of the half track.

    One of the side gunners saw him, but by the time he opened fire, Jurgen had already exited the firing ark and began climbing up the back and rolled over to the inside, to the surprised gazes of the crew. Their surprise turned to fear wen they saw him pulling the pins on two Krak grenades, and they tried to bail out. Whether or not they did, Jurgen never knew, for his world went white and he felt a great heat, and then blacked out.
    Last edited by Cfavano; 02-17-2020 at 01:13 AM.

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  8. #48
    Willshaper
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    Minch cursed bringing his lasgun to on the onrushing Baraspini. He’d only managed to get a few shots off, taking on of them in the chest, before return fire slammed into his line once more. Several men fell to lucky or well placed shots, their eyes glazed over their face a deathmask of fear or hardened resolve. One shot took Minch in the arm, just below the shoulder.

    As Minch stumbled backwards from the shot a hand pulled him aside behind a pillar.
    “Damnit Minch!” A voice said just above him. Someone sprayed a cool substance into his wound then pressed a bandage to his arm. Around them men shouted and turned lasguns, blades, anything they had on the charging foe. They had seconds at best.

    “Stay here, your work is done today my old friend.”

    That voice, how? The medic?
    “Damnit Ketch.” Minch said through the pain and shock.
    “Why’d you come now?”
    The medic, Commander Illiana Ketch stood up staring into the line of men mere seconds from desperate battle.
    “I got worried. Turns out I was right, Gods I hate being right.” She reached for a blade at her side, ivory in color inlaid with gems in the pommel.
    “And so the bloody work beings anew. Gods preserve us this day.”
    Ketch began to walk calmly towards the line of men, the first wave had clashed, blades out and glinting in the dull dusty light a group of Baraspini burst through just ahead of her, they began to lay into the Havenites behind the line as Ketch approached.

    Her pace was steady, her eyes hard, a violet storm behind them, around her the air seamed to still.
    “You should have accepted surrender when we offered it.” Ketch whispered, her long knife now drawn, it’s fine blade shimmered.
    “You should have gone home to your families, there at least your last hours could have been peaceful with those you love.”
    She pushed past a group of soldiers who were pulling their comrades away from the battle, other men had taken their place.
    “You should have turned away the path of war.”
    Again a group of soldiers burst from the line of her men masks splattered with blood, blades red in the sunlight, they caught sight of Ketch and roared as they charged towards her.
    “I am sorry.”
    They never got the chance to kill Illianna.

    Six men dropped dead, their eyes burned out through their masks. Ketch stepped past them blade humming in her hand. Her eyes were alight now, a storm of fury.
    A soldier thrust a bayonet at her chest. She swatted it aside and buried her knife in his chest.
    He stumbled backwards into his own line and another man stepped over him, a hulking human almost black with ill intent. Ketch looked him in the eye as he raised a metal pipe over his head.

    She saw hatred there, of course he hated her. That’s how it was. Us versus them, and to him she was the “them”.
    “I know how it feels” She whispered.
    Then caved his chest in.

    Ketch set to work. Her blade was lightning, her fists thunder. Lithe and graceful she danced from one soldier to the next. Soldiers fell beneath her onslaught, like a demon from a child’s nightmares she tore into the Baraspini line. Around her Havenites redoubled their efforts, closing in behind Illiana and surging forward to drive their foes back.

    “We don’t want to take your lives. But we will not hesitate to defend our own. You have brought death upon yourselves, and now have yourselves to blame for this.”




    "Life before death,
    Strength before weakness,
    Journey before destination."
    -The First Ideal

  9. #49
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    Spoiler: Haven 14th Mechanised, Cam’s Lot Militia - Skaltine railhead 
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  10. #50
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    His breath hazed on his helmet, the void suit clumsy and constricting around his limbs. Seydias ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, swallowed, and wrestled with his fear.

    +10 seconds to landing!+ Levvi yelled over the lances channel. He nodded, feeling the sweat trickle down his neck.

    +Seydias! Watch your spacing!+

    "Right!" He responded tersely. His hands, suddenly so fat and clumsy in their void hardened gloves, nudged the controls, and he fell back into formation.

    +3!+

    He swallowed. Why couldn't he stop swallowing?

    +2!+

    He tried to calm his heart. Stupid. He had seen combat. He had killed. You can do this.

    +1!+

    Sinister Intent hit the deck. Seydias slammed against his harness, felt something snap. He gasped.

    +You alright Seydias? Respond!+

    "I'm. . .I'm fine." He ground out. That wasn't Levvi, it was Erin, on his left.

    +You better be, because here they come.+

    He heard the sensor lock, saw his opponent. Armour charred black, a scorpion on his tilt plate. Someone had painted a dagger pinning the scorpion to the floor. He willed it, and for a moment, the ghosts of the throne welled up and. . .

    He is a replacement part. He will be made to fit.
    His mother?
    My Mother. Her face, under the shroud.
    Is he skilled enough?
    If he survives the ritual, he will be strong enough. Sinister Intent will bow to his will, and he will be what we need.
    How dare they talk about him as if he is some component to be bodged into place! He was a noble of House Ackerman! His mother.
    Her face, under the shroud. The Princeps dead eyes as she watched her be wheeled past.
    He wanted to stand, but he was shackled to a chair. He opened his mouth to yell, but it was engine noise, the roar of a reactor.
    Is he strong enough to survive the ritual?
    That is what we will find out tonight.
    He raged against his restraints as the chair snaked cables into his flesh, his mouth, his eyes. He yelled in pain, but it was the crackle of an ion field.
    His mother, face shrouded, eyes closed. Skin bleeding where it touched the bed. Her closed eyes, her drawn lips.
    He tried to reach for her. His arm was dragged deeper into the chair.
    His scream was the roar of a warhorn.


    His suits warhorn sounded in the vacuum as his ion field snapped into place. 2 missiles detonated on the field, and the melta beam decohered. One missile splashed across his Knights shoulder, marring paint and armour.

    He was alive. Holy Throne, He was alive. The ritual of becoming had been a nightmare, a horror stamped into his brain. Its memories assailed him even now, but he was alive, and he would be damned if he didn't enjoy every second of that. His doubts and fears evaporated, and he charged forwards, magnetic grapples tearing at the hull plating as he discharged his weapons. He spread the missiles from his own launcher in a ripple of fire across the foes ion shield, and then triggered the thermal cannon. Weakened, the ion field failed to stop the beam slashing a glowing line across his foes chest, armour running like wax. He yelped in exultation as his reaper chainsword came down for the killing blow. The enemy stepped backwards, the blow clipping the carapace in a shower of sparks rather than digging in. Someone screamed over the vox. His opponent stepped forwards, crackling fist looking to knock him down, and he turned and parried the blow with the tip of his reaper, fields cracking against each other in the soundless void. He turned the parried swing into a chance to bring his thermal cannon to bear, and fired a point blank shot. Armour boiled away across his foe, and he slammed his controls forwards. For a second, he was staring into the faceplate of his opponent, before the bulls rush sent his foe falling backwards. With a roar of metal on metal, the enemy Knight hit the deck, then, ludicrously, began to slowly float away. Laughing maniacally, riding an incredible adrenaline high, he regained his balance, and unloaded his missile pack into the floating opponent. Krak missiles tore chunks of armour free and exposed the pilots chamber. A solid kill.

    "Seydias! Support the Mylocks!"

    Sinister Intent turned almost of its own volition. One of the twins Knights was crumpled on the deck, armour melted and fused, welding it to the floor. The other was switching its fire left and right, circling around its crippled twin, trying to keep itself safe and prevent a kill shot. With a feral growl he didn't know he could make, Seydias pushed his Knight into a loping run and closed with the closest traitor.

    Traitor
    Traitor . . .
    "Traitors!"he roared over the open vox. His fire slammed into the unprotected rear of one of the enemies, causing it to stumble mid turn. It corrected and swung around to bring its own reaper to bear.

    Too late.

    Seydias crashed into the Knight at full tilt, reaper biting through armour, hull and cockpit. The chainblade screamed in his cockpit as his knights optics was coated with oil and blood.

    "Seydias! Your left!"

    He stared at the knight that had switched from harassing Anna, and was now closing on him. It had positioned itself so his own knight, and the gutted wreck of his second kill, was covering him against Anna's battle cannon. Seydias cursed.

    "My fething blades locked!"

    He desperately slammed his controls backwards, and his Knight tried to comply. His blade was trapped in the corpse of his last kill.

    His very last kill.

    The other knight closed, fist opening and closing in feral anticipation. Seydias tried to maneuver the dead weight of the enemy knight up as a shield, but he couldn't get a grip on the metal of the station.

    "Just get it over with!" He yelled at the enemy knight.

    +Seeing as you asked so nicely.+

    Levvi cut in from the left of the approaching Knight. His first attack wasn't with his weapons, but with the long, articulated and armoured leg of his Atropos. The kick shattered the other Knights knee actuator, sending it tumbling. Levvi circled his opponent like a boxer circling a downed opponent, not like a clumsy machine mag clamped to an uneven structure in the void. He delivered a shattering stomp to the machines other leg, leaving it thrashing on the deck even as its missile box fired desperately, trying to land a hit on Levvi.

    +Power down whelp+ he growled on the vox as he planted his lascutter on the Knights reactor housing. For a moment both Knight suits were still, then the downed Knight pushed itself off the deck with its thunderstrike gauntlet, trying to roll itself over for a point blank kill shot with its thermal cannon. Levvi lunged, dropping to one knee to punch his lascutter through the recidivists back. There was a blinding flash as the enemy knights reactor cracked, and electricity arced across Dark Pugilist and the enemy knight.

    The Atropos stood smoothly as Seydias finally freed his blade.

    "That was incredible" He breathed. Dark Puglist raised its lascutter in salute.

    +That was a good first showing. Two kills.+

    Seydias nodded, prying his fingers from the control columns and flexing his fingers, willing blood back into his digits. He panned the Knights torso back and forth. Sinister Witness was slumped on the deck, and Hinzers Honest Mistake was limping, one arm hanging dead. Dexter Warden was stripped of armour and its actuators were sparking. The enemy lance was scattered as floating debris, or standing as silent sentinels, mag-locked to the station but dead.

    +You alive in there Pietr?+

    +I'm alive.+ There was a groan. +But my suit is dead.+

    +It will walk again, Pietr, and so will you.+ Levvi reassured him. +Hinzer, Anna, watch over him.+

    +Like I'm in much better condition.+ Anna groused.

    +Once the sacristans land, they can effect field repairs. Seydias, Erin, you ready for some more?+

    Erin and Seydias raised their weapons in salute.

    +Good, because we have to welcome the Princeps yet+
    Last edited by dakkagor; 03-14-2020 at 09:54 PM.

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