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

  1. #61
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    Spoiler: Teph Min Militia, Destruction Maniple Alpha Rho Phi, the Damned 88th - Marioch 
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    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


  2. #62
    The Last Remembrancer
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    "Gods fucking damnit!" Droplaug screamed, in rage, pain, and, though she would never admit it, a little fear.

    They were all going to die here. They were all going to die in a pissing Imperial standard issue hamlet, huddling behind rocks and blown out walls.

    It was pointless issuing orders, the vox was dead, even inter-squad was fried at anything less than 20 yards. Visibility was gone, and cohesion was collapsing as they were forced back, room by room, into the hamlets centre. Every instinct was screaming at her that this was it.

    But she would be damned if she didn't take a few of the bastards screaming with her to hell.

    She'd picked up a pistol from somewhere, and was leaning out of a first floor bedroom window, snapping shots of at the shapes in the smoke and dust, not sure if she was hitting, not even really sure if she was shooting the enemy.

    Even if they somehow held on, even if they somehow won, the Jotunhels scrambler corp, the cream of their elites, was dead as a formation. The rational part of her mind was telling her that, trying to figure out how they could reorganise, retrain, get back some capability, and it kept coming up blank. They had no homeworld to recruit from, nowhere to retire to retrain and rearm.

    But it was a decent enough distraction from the dull ache in her arm. Because thinking about some impossible future kept her from thinking about the narrowing problems of her present.

    Her laspistol whined empty, and she fumbled with it, one handed, to change out the power pack. Down below, she could hear her men snapping shots at advancing imperials, and she risked a look out the window. Stalking forwards, hugging the cover, were black and gold armoured figures in heavy carapace, with hellguns cabled up to backpack power packs. Scions, stormtroopers, whatever you wanted to call them. She saw one take a centre-of-mass shot, fall onto his arse, then pick himself up and return fire, the overpowered las-bolts chewing through the wall below her position.

    She tossed the laspistol aside, and reached into her kit. She took out two red ampules, and braced.

    They breached like the trained, deadly professionals they were, hosing down the buildings front with penetrating las-shots, following up with grenades that made the wooden floorboards under her feet jump. The first one smashed the door of its hinges and swept in as she jammed the ampules into her neck.

    The second. . .

    She fell out of the window like a hunting snowcat, hull axe in one hand, long bayonet knife in another. The Slaught/Frenzon burned through her blood, banishing the pain, fatigue and fear. The bayonet knife sank into the second mans collar seal, spraying arterial gore into the air as she swung the hull axe with a banshee shriek, taking the first mans head of and sending it sailing away.

    Two hotshot bolts punched through her stomach and sternum. She threw herself at her killer, smashing the axe down, taking of a limb in trade as she threw the bayonet knife to sink into the helm-lense of trooper four.

    Trooper five smashed her in the side of the head with his rifle, and she spun away. A lasbolt cut through the meat of her leg, and she stumbled, surged up, and swung the axe in an upper cut that smashed helmet, jaw and skull, scattering ceramite, bone and teeth.

    Three more lasbolts caught her, and threw her backwards into the wall. She slid down it, choking on her cooked lungs.

    "Fucking patsie." The shadow snarled. "Sir, we've got an officer here."

    "Can she be saved?" She stared up at the trooper, in his fancy fucking armour, edged with gilt, and snarled. She could hear a corpsman running over to tend to her kills.

    "No sir." The warm barrel of a lasrifle pressed into her forehead. "Traitors can't be saved."

    "Not. . ." she whispered. The man paused, and bent down. "Not. . .not a traitor."

    "Not from where I'm standing, girly." The impassive helm snarled. "Don't think I'll waste the shot. Let you bleed out."


    "Big mistake." She smiled as her bloodslicked hands relaxed, dropping the pins to her remaining grenades to the floor. The blast was big enough to knock the crumbling house the rest of the way down.

    + + + + + +

    Jarns reinforcements bit into the Imperial formations flanks. Their quick march had got their forward squads, with their heavier weapons ditched, in time to stop the scout being completely obliterated. But it wasn't a sure thing, Jarn noted bitterly. Vox was still down, and the Imperials were still pressing forwards.

    "Get squads into the hamlet and get the scouts out and behind the main body!" He roared, sending runners. "Reposition our strength along this axis so we can cut through their line of advance. If we can cut of their spearhead, we might have a chance."

    Aslong as they don't throw heavy armour at us for the next 20 minutes. With only a few tube launchers to his companies name, and a double handful of cookers, an armoured push would see this company as chewed up and spat out as the scout company.
    Last edited by dakkagor; 07-03-2023 at 01:51 PM.

  3. #63
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    Gast shoved some rubble off himself. His ears were ringing as people ran every which way, shouting, trying to get those who were unconscious into cover.

    He looked over to see most of the guns were destroyed.

    Another ran up to him and looked him over. Curse his ringing ears, he couldn't hear a blasted thing.
    The man shook him.
    Gast tried to say something, but he couldn't even hear himself.
    He pulled him up and dragged him over to cover and laid him down with some others. One or two people tending to the wounded as best they could.
    Other people were digging at a caved in doorway as others moved the few remaining artillery guns into position, one at the main door to the compound with people on the walls, engaging people on the outside

    ===========================================

    "Frick!" the thunderbolts peeled off after they successfully dropped their payload.
    They were in disarray.

    "Vox is down! I ain't gettin' nothin'!"

    "The ammo cache is buried!"

    "They dropped the shock troops!"

    "Well don't just stand there! They'll be knocking down the door any second!"
    "Yeah, we still got 2 good guns! Swing one of them around at the door!"

    anyone still on their feet scrambled to make the best of it.
    The way things were going, they'd not survive the shock troops barging in. But they'd make them pay for it.

    "Vesta! Get over that wall! Tell the others that we're alive, and we'll hold out as long as we can! Take someone with you!"

    "Right! Braidy, let's go!"

    ===========================================

    Sisilia was nearly knocked off her feat with that blast.

    "Bloody hell, they took out the artillery!"

    Sisilia had just helped unbury a few people who had gotten trapped by rubble on the first run. And things had just gotten much worse.

    "Sisilia, you might want to get up to the trenches. We got this lot. Frank, go with her."

    "Alright. I'll follow you, lil' sis." Franck said, shouldering his las rifle.

    ===========================================

    Calvan shot blast after blast as another militiaman unloaded his ancient heavy bolter into the trench line in front of them as the imps advanced.

    Men ran past him setting up at a choke point in the trenches, in hopes to catch some of the imperial troops in a closed trench corridor.
    Putting a heavy bolter in place with a quick makeshift barricade and a crate of grenades.

    Calvan shot at one of the shock troops in the chest 3 different times.
    "These guys aren't going down!" He called.
    Benton on the heavy bolter punched through a few of them after nearly 5 rounds a piece before running out.
    "We'll be out of ammo before we get all of them!" He said.

    The shock troops advanced.
    "Frick!"

    A rocket slammed into one of the shock troops and knocked them all back into the trech.
    And Calvan only had enough to think to toss a grenade over in the direction were the shock troops disappeared to before looking behind him to see who fired the rocket.

    "Bren, I couldn't be happier to see you!"
    "Save it!" Brenna shouted as she hopped into the trench line and reloaded the launcher. "you're lucky I was even able to find one of these in this mess!"

    Benton worked to reload his heavy bolter "perfect timing." He said, "how many more rockets do you have?"

    "only two!" She said, unslinging her las rifler and joined in the firefight "Don't count on me finding any more!"

    Fighting broke off to their right, and Calvan turned to shoot at some lighter armored imperial troops that had managed to push up.

    "We're fricked! We gotta move back!" Benton said, sliding the heavy ammo belt across his shoulders and hoisting the heavy bolter. "Move!"

    Calvan and Brenna, along with several others laid down some suppressive fire, using their experience in the field to execute a tactical withdraw back to the next trench line.

    "This isn't what I had in mind!" Durock said as they approached his position.
    "Well, none of us had this in mind either!" Was the response.

    They continued to hold as best they could, friends falling around them to close grenades, and las bolts to the face.

    ===========================================

    "We got it!" Someone called. They had finally made a small hole you could crawl to get to the ammo cache.

    "Well hurry up! That door ain't gonna last!"

    Two men slipped into the hole and formed a short ammo chain, passing out rockets and shells, most being passed to the people who would be holding the door with one of the big guns and a hastily made barricade constructed of mostly rubble.

    One man, crouched on top of the wall, was going to act as a spotter amidst the hair of fire.

    "Alright, load her up!"
    The men manning the one remaining peace of artillery not being used to hold the door was loaded.

    "alright, fire on grid 233, 475, 926!"

    "233, 475, 926!"
    "got it!"

    "fire!"
    Last edited by Highland Sniper; 05-22-2023 at 02:46 PM.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  4. #64
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    Spoiler: Teph Min Militia, Destruction Maniple Alpha Rho Phi, the Damned 88th - Marioch 
    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.


  5. #65
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    "Whatever you're gonna do Brenna, make it count." Calvan said tensely.

    "Wait." Sisilia whispered.

    Brenna hesitated, "Are you sure?" Brenna asked, staying tensely trained on the commander's tank.

    "No I'm not. But I... I have the feeling you should wait." She said

    "Sis's normally right." Frank said a little hesitantly.

    "Keep it trained," Calvan said through gritted teeth, "fire on Sisilia's mark."

    Everyone else in the trench kept their heads low as more grenades and lasblasts flew over head.

    Brenna saw the commander mover her head, and saw some more obscured movement, troops shifting.

    Sisilia twitched, and blinked. "Now," she said, very insistently.

    Brenna blinked before double checking her target, and pulled the trigger.

    ===========================================

    Sisilia could never really explain her feelings. They just happened.
    During the course of her younger life she had had them. And she learned quickly to trust them.
    Some were almost soft, as if it might be a better choice, but it didn't really matter. Some were a lot stronger.

    When Calvan and Brenna talked about firing the launcher, she couldn't see. But she had the strongest sense that it wasn't time. This was strong enough she couldn't ignore it. Hold fire.

    She spoke up. In moments, it went away, and something in the air... felt like it went from really tense, to... a little relaxed. And the strong urge to wait stopped.
    Sometimes she was surprised by how strong these were, and never knew until it had come and gone. She was almost a little disoriented from the relief, she had to collect herself.
    This must be a really good time to fire. She put a little more force into what she said next. More than she intended to.

    "Now."

    ===========================================

    A lazblast flew over his head as he observed the shell drop.

    he cursed. Not only was the shot close, but he saw the imps hunker down. And more advancing.

    "3 degrees down, 10 to the left!" he called out.

    "3 down, 10 left. Got it!" came the reply. "Come on, get that shell over here!"

    Getting the berried ammo out of the hole was slow. But they weren't about the stop now.

    "We got tanks!" came a call from another wall.

    "locked and loaded!"

    "hold!" The spotter called as he rushed over to the other walls to find the tanks lightly obscured by trees.
    He looked though the binoculars and consulted the map.
    "Swing her around!" he called, and rattled off grid numbers. He double checked land marks, run the rough estimated calculations again. Good enough.

    "Ready!"

    "Fire!"

    ===========================================

    Zen and the rest of Goffer were farther back out of the trenches.
    The approaching enemy was way too far away at first. But with the fighting moving to the trench lines and hamlet, they opened fire.

    Voxes were down, so they had no orders except the ones previously given before everything went the way of the warp. Hold the line. Take out high value targets.

    Now they didn't find much. But whenever they found any form of officer, they were first to go, along with any heavily armored troopers, or anyone with special weapons.
    But they were only so many, and couldn't take out every target at once.

    "Tanks coming from the trees" someone muttered.

    Zen looked over at the tanks and saw the officer before spotting another patriot with a launcher. Colors indicated part of the Pack.

    "Defend the that trench line." Zen said, "She's keying up for a shot."

    And 3 of them focused on taking out anyone who might even remotely be aiming at Brenna while the others continued shooting at others.

    ===========================================

    Norin spat out some blood before pulling the bayonet from the trooper he just skewered.

    He looked down the trench at the scattered corpses.

    The close explosion of a grenade brought him back quickly to the battle at hand. And more Imps were trying to come up the trench line.

    "Keep your heads low! Only peek over enough to see your sights!" Norin called and started returning fire, "We will not lose this line!"

    He cursed himself for the flashbacks in the guard days.
    This was all too familiar. He even remembers receiving similar orders.

    More grenades were tossed, and the heavy bolter rattled off the rounds.
    Norin felt a sting in his leg and cursed as he hobbled over to a new position.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  6. #66
    The Last Remembrancer
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    Jarn sighed, heavily. He suddenly felt very old, and very tired. A strange lull had fallen over the battlefield around the corpse of his second in command. Just an hour ago, she had been alive and invincible. The idea that Droplaug would let something as mundane as a Guardsman kill her seemed impossible.

    "Whats the play?" He looked up, and Starolf was standing above him. He didn't remember sinking to his knees next to Droplaug. He turned away from the scout, and gently brushed Droplaugs eyes closed, before he took in a deep, shuddering breath.

    "We get across the bridge. As many of us as we can."

    Something unspoken passed between them. It was the decision Starolf would have made, not Jarn. Retreat to preserve the company, not fight like cornered animals to claw a few more hated imperials into the abyss with them.

    Jarn got to his knees, and started to bellow orders. First, clear the banks, then that knocked down church. Then rally with the Patsies, and manage a withdrawal over the river. Then, send the bridge straight to hell.

    As he stormed off, rallying the Damned 88th, Herkja sank to her knees next to the mangled corpse. She gently pressed a frag grenade into the dead womans hands, and then rolled her over, setting up a wire and pin combination that would see the grenade detonate the moment someone shifted her body.

    "Hope you get a couple more, you leathery old bitch." Herkja muttered.

    +++++

    The order flowed by word of mouth and squad vox, runners carrying the news. A leapfrogging advance to the bridge, each company relieving the last. Starolf was on point, leading his scouts into ferocious combat with the lead Imperial elements from their rear, pressing them against the defenders in the trench. Jarn held the hamlet, using it as a point of reference to rally his squads, and send them to the bridge, effectively bowing the defensive line outwards, but ready to collapse back at any moment.

    +++++

    Herkja slipped down the muddy bank and slammed into an Imperial combat engineer, bowling him over before putting an axe into his face. Her squad laid about them with tools and pistols as one of Starlofs squads cut down the covering drop-troopers, freeing her up to act.

    "I was just frakking here." She muttered. She had a few minutes to check the wiring was still good on this bridge span, then her and her engineers had to get across and assume command of the demo box. The last thing they wanted was a jumpy Patsie blowing half the Damned to kingdom come thinking they were a guard unit that had broken through.

  7. #67
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    Spoiler: Teph Min Militia, Destruction Maniple Alpha Rho Phi, the Damned 88th - Marioch 
    Last edited by Azazeal849; 07-15-2023 at 10:07 PM.
    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.


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