"Once this door opens I want everyone off the elevator and in cover, we're sitting ducks if we don't move immediately. Get ready!"
The Inquisitor raises his voice as he hits the door controls to be heard over the gunfire.
"Go, get off the lift!"
Once he'd followed his own advice and gotten the hell behind a solid-looking barricade he attempts to get an overview of the situation. Boltgun wielders at range, berzerkers running over the servitor positions. Fantastic.
"Leona, get that autocannon up now, I want suppressive fire on those gunners! Drake, Akusigos, back her up, thin out as many of the crazies as possible! The rest of us'll advance when we have fire superiority, for the Emperor!"
Orders fully bellowed, Arcturus pops out of cover and lines up his pistol's sight on one of the berserkers, hammering away at him with as many bolt rounds as he thought he could get away with before attracting return fire. The Inquisitor's heavy carapace armour might be thick, but it wouldn't hold up well to any direct hits.
edited 16th Nov '11 5:49:22 AM by l3wt
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Tech-Philosopher
Following Arcturus' example, Akusigos sprinted off the lift and took cover behind a barricade only a few yards from the Inquisitor's position. The Techpriest paused for a moment as he listened to Arcturus' orders before responding with a methodical "Confirmed", Akusigos then used his bio-scanner to discern the traitor marines' location and made sure his pistols were loaded with explosive needles before popping up from cover and firing several shots at one of the bolter-using marines, each shot was aimed at either the neck joint or the eyes, both places being vulnerable areas that made up for the needle pistols' weak armor penetration.
edited 14th Nov '11 3:57:02 PM by Ahukael
TROGG PUNCHING!!!
-The ogryn runs happily towards the battle, but skids to a halt on noticing that the enemies are the bad muhreens. He then grabs the corpse of a fallen servitor and hurls it at one of the axe wielders.-
Not Literally Me
"Yes sir! Imperator Deus!"
-Leona positioned herself behind a barricade a short distance away from the others, spreading the targets for enemy fire more thinly, and steadied her autocannon atop the barricade, lining up one of the bolter-wielding marines in her sights. She squeezed the trigger, and the whole barricade shuddered from the kickback of the monstrous weapon as the round was propelled at breakneck speed towards her target, the roar of the gun intermingling with the chaos and commotion of the battle.-
"One thing, though- apparently the eldest goat is the bastard child of Muhammad Ali and the Hulk." ~ Exelixi, on The Three Billy Goats Gruff.
— Corollianus scrambled down the corridor after his liege and employer, helmet optics quickly adjusting to the new lighting conditions. He had heard what the mutilated, emotionally mercurial governor had said they would find down there. And he had seen them before, more times than he ever would've liked, on the battlefield.
But when he saw the Traitor Marines of ten millennia past, that old Cadian stormtrooper had to force down bile. He hated them, as any good and dogmatic Imperial should, but he also possessed a healthy fear of them. They were the Dark Gods' own Devils of Damnation, and their strength was hideous. He had seen whole companies of trained and experienced guardsmen torn to shreds by less than a full of squad of the traitors, watched as they tore apart the best tanks the guard could field with only sword and claw. They were the worst kind of monsters His Majesty the Emperor's servants could face, that had come from humanity itself.
So, to Cadian Stormtrooper Sergeant Corollianus Anestor, soldier of the Imperial Guard for a full two centuries, a muttered prayer of accuracy and effect for each volley fired was not unwarranted. To spite the eyes, the arms, the weapons of the Traitor...—
Arcturus' target staggered under the repeated impacts of his salvo, snarling more in surprise than pain as a few of the Inquisitor's bolts punched through his ceramite armour to blow out a head-sized chunk of his side. But while this wound would have been fatal for an ordinary human, for a Chaos Space Marine this was merely an—a painful one, to be sure, but an annoyance nonetheless. As soon as Arcturus dropped into cover, the wounded Traitor Legionnaire immediately retaliated by firing a burst at his position; the barricade held under the explosive impacts of the heretic's blasphemous boltgun, but it would not stand indefinitely.
The marksman that Leona had targeted, by contrast, was not so fortunate; the shell of her autocannon struck the brute in the right pauldron, shattering the ceramite plate and all but tearing his arm off. The Chaos Marine went down, cursing furiously all the while; and the remaining members of his squad, not wishing to share his fate, immediately dropped into cover; repeated fire from Corollianus and the surviving members of the guard forced them to keep their heads down. It was difficult to tell what had happened to Akusigos' target amidst the chaos and pandemonium of battle; the tech-priest's explosive needles might have hit, for a howl of rage had rung out shortly after he'd fired, but now that the four remaining renegades had disappeared behind the protective cover of the nearest barricade his fate remained uncertain.
The awful sound of serrated metal teeth sawing through meat and metal filled the air as one of the berzerkers cut the flung servitor in half with a single stroke of his chainsword, and a sinister chuckle issued forth from the Chaos Marine's monstrous vox-grille. "Looks like the migou wants to play, brothers," he sneered. "Let's indulge him; take his skull for the Skull Throne!"
With that command, two of the berzerkers broke away from the rest of their squad and charged towards Trogg, bellowing with bloodlust and hideous laughter as they revved up their desecrated chain weapons.
Knowing that there was simply no way Trogg would be able to survive against two Chaos Space Marines at once, Zee broke from cover and charged towards one of them, firing her bolt pistol at him on the run until she closed to melee range; she swung her sword at the traitor's waist, intending to cut him in half, but the berzerker reacted with preternatural speed and parried her blow with his own sword. A shrill, ear-splitting whine filled the air as the teeth of their chainswords ground against each other, and Zee grit her teeth as she fought to break this bladelock; the berzerker's strength was equal to her own, if not exceeding it slightly, and neither combatant was able to gain the upper hand.
Bereft of the supporting fire provided by their ranged warriors, the rest of the berzerker squad was forced to slow their own advance. That said, they would be on the defenders' position, and soon; once they got into melee range, things would get ugly.
edited 18th Nov '11 8:01:09 PM by SullenFrog
The Danse Macabre Codex
Not Literally Me
-Leona adjusted her aim and fired on her wounded target again as fast as the gun's mechanisms would allow. She wanted to be absolutely sure the traitor marine would not be getting up or firing again, and he was the only exposed target. Following that attack, her course of action would be to drop down and hastily ready her missile launcher: a well-aimed krak missile would be one of the few things available to the fire-team that might be able to kill the marines in cover.-
"One thing, though- apparently the eldest goat is the bastard child of Muhammad Ali and the Hulk." ~ Exelixi, on The Three Billy Goats Gruff.
Arcturus winced as rounds slammed into his cover, but remained very much unscathed. He turned his head to yell at the remaining soldiers.
"Focus your fire, damn you! Regular tactics work poorly against these bastards; get as many guns as possible on a single enemy, that's the only way your lasguns are going to get at their armour! Also, blind out!"
With that he gets a blind grenade from the confines of his coat, and chucks it 'round the corner. With some luck it'd land at his aggressor's feet.
edited 17th Nov '11 4:09:00 PM by l3wt
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
YOU NOT HURT ANGEL OF EMPRER!
-The ogryn punches the abominable being who dares attack the sacred representation of the Emperor in the head, flailing wildly with the other arm in the general direction of the other Marine..-
edited 18th Nov '11 4:11:54 AM by Chabal2
Dreams of Revenge
Drake helped to keep up the fire rate as he supported Leona, although he had to admit that seeing the Guardsman's head getting blown off at the beginning didn't do wonders for his morale. In the confusion and din of the battle, the young Guardsman was finding it somewhat difficult to prioritise targets. Distancing himself, Drake took a quick look around for someone - anyone - who was senior to him, and eventually locked eyes on Corollianus. He looked like he knew what he was doing!
"Hey, Corollianus - Sir, I mean - is there anybody we should be paying special attention to?" he asked the veteran, still keeping up a quite rapid rate of fire. He briefly considered launching a grenade, but he had a feeling that it may be overkill (though in some ways there wasn't such a thing as "overkill" when a Chaos Space Marine was involved). He felt somewhat awed and concerned as he watched the juggernauts methodically work their way toward friendly lines, which only amplified the urgency with which he acted.
Locking you up on radar since '09
The blind-grenade arced through the air and landed within the barricades presently being used by the ranged squad of Chaos Marines, detonating a moment later with a blinding flash of light; growls and snarls of anger rang out as the brilliant flare blinded the four Traitor Legionnaires, and the soft pop of gorget seals disengaging could be heard as at least one of them removed their helmet—doubtless whatever auto-senses the archaic helm possessed had been overloaded by this well-placed flashbang.
The prone renegade whose arm had been all but obliterated a moment earlier was struck full-on by Leona's follow-up shot, and the blast of her autocannon practically annihilated the traitor's profane battleplate, making a bloody ruin of his chest in the process. Even for such implacable beings as an Astartes, the wound was clearly fatal; he would not be getting up again.
Unfortunately, the tank tsukogami was not about to score the proverbial hat trick; before she could finish readying her missile launcher, the four remaining members of the ranged Chaos squad immediately broke cover and dashed off in different directions. This was not the senseless retreating of warriors whose morale had been broken, but rather a tactical choice on their part; having seen the folly of allowing themselves to become bunched up and vulnerable, they would not make that mistake again. They were now spread out far enough apart that the blast from a grenade or missile would only be able to claim one of them, and the Guardsmen could not focus their suppressive fire on them as easily as they could before.
Still, forcing the traitors to scatter like that had at least given the defenders a brief reprieve; the barricades would hold for a bit longer.
Trogg's blow staggered the berzerker, but the monstrous heretic quickly recovered his balance and remained on his feet; in retaliation for this attack, the other one ducked under Trogg's flailing arm and lunged towards him, swinging his chainaxe at the Ogryn's shins in an attempt to sever his tendons. "I am your opponent, beast; face me alone and die with honour!"
Zee, meanwhile, took advantage of this momentary distraction to bring up her boltpistol and fire a point-blank shot at her foe's helmeted face; but the berzerker's speed beggared belief, and he managed to twist his head aside so that a bolt which should have gone right between the eyes instead clipped him on the temple. The impact shattered part of his helmet, revealing a brief glimpse of a face distorted by countless centuries spent in the hellish realm of the immaterium—sallow flesh stained with patches of blackened blood; distended veings that pulsed and throbbed to the jackhammer beats of two monstrous hearts; and a hideous eye, gold flecked with red in a black sclera, its pupil broad and rectangular like that of a goat.
Zee tried to get off another shot, but before she could squeeze the trigger her opponent batted her pistol from her hand with a low snarl of contempt. "You dishonour the sacred rites of personal combat, wench," the berzerker growled, his pupil contracting with mounting anger. "You have strength, and you have skill; use them, rather than this cheap toy!"
The other three berzerkers, meanwhile, were suffering under the renewed attentions of the defenders; taking Arcturus' order to heart, the surviving Cadians and Skitarii had prioritized these vicious melee combatants as the greatest threat and were focusing their fire on the three. One of the Traitors went down, felled by a lucky shot to the eye from Drake's hotshot, and the remaining two found their advance faltering as the better marksmen of the defenders singled out vulnerable spots in their armour; slowly but surely, the tide of battle was gradually tilting in favour of the Imperium.
The Danse Macabre Codex
TROGG PUNCH BADUGLY!
-The Ogryn swats distractedly at the chainaxe, already moving out of range in order to concentrate on the corrupted marine attacking Zee.-
EMPERAH HATE BADUGLY LIKE YOU!
edited 19th Nov '11 1:45:35 AM by Chabal2
Arcturus made good use of the window he'd just created, fluidly changing magazines before darting out to re-engage his previous target. He'd drawn his power sword too, now, he and wasn't about to let the chaos marine have any room to recover whatsoever, firing round after round at the traitor as he moved forward to introduce him to a blade that was quite literally sharper than the conventional laws of physics would allow.
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Not Literally Me
-Figuring that since her missile launcher was already primed, it is worth using it even if it can only take one of the heretics, Leona stand up again, quickly scans for targets, and fires at one of the bolter-wielding marines-
"One thing, though- apparently the eldest goat is the bastard child of Muhammad Ali and the Hulk." ~ Exelixi, on The Three Billy Goats Gruff.
— The elder stormtrooper ceased his prayers on hearing Private Drake speak. The boy still had that hesitance, small wonder when facing the Traitor Marines. He switched on his internal vox channel to speak. —
- "Private, horns. Annoy them into a charge."#
—Trying to get into a position where he wouldn't hit one of his employers, Corollianus took aim at one nearer to her position and fired at the Marine's horns. —
edited 19th Nov '11 1:56:38 PM by Colonial1.1
Dreams of Revenge
Drake had felt somewhat joyous as the Traitor Marine he shot died, even if it was more a twist of fate than any skill on his part. At Corollianus's answer, however, he visibly blanched. Switching to the internal vox as well, Drake's reply was short and terse. "Sir, is that really such a good idea?"
Nevertheless, Drake resigned himself to carrying out the order anyway - Corollianus would know better than he, right? Taking aim, Drake tried to shoot off one of the horns on the helmets of the Chaos Space Marine, though if it failed (either due to not eliciting the desired response or being too difficult to hit) he reverted to just shooting as normal.
Locking you up on radar since '09
Trogg really should have been paying more attention to the berzerker attacking him rather than getting involved with Zee's battle; this inattention would quickly prove costly. Even as Trogg threw a punch at the foe attacking the Living Saint, the Chaos Space Marine who he had swatted at swung his chainaxe in a brutal downward arc; the unhallowed weapon's monstrous teeth whined horribly as they bit into his flesh and sawed through the bone, hewing the Ogryn's hand from his wrist.
That said, the loss of his hand was not in vain; his blow connected with the Traitor Legionnaire who was fighting Zee, knocking him off-balance once again; and while the fiend's disorientation was momentary at best, that was all Zee needed. Gripping the hilt of her chainsword in both hands, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and shoved at the unbalanced Space Marine, knocking him back and finally breaking their bladelock; and before he could recover she stepped in, swinging her chainsword in a swift horizontal arc that struck the unholy warrior's head from his armoured shoulders.
With her foe dispatched, Zee set about hunting for her boltpistol; she knew it had landed somewhere nearby, and she'd be damned* if she was going to lose her sidearm this early into the mission.
The remaining pair of berzerkers, meanwhile, continued to suffer under the focused fire of the defenders; now that they were forced to defend their more vulnerable parts, their advance had slowed to a crawl. Another fell as several lasbeams punched through his gorget and helmet lenses, bringing the total number of melee renegades down to two; Drake's target, the one who was not presently attacking Trogg, let out a bellow of absolute rage as the guardsman blasted off one of his horns, and the inhuman monstrosity all but exploded into a furious charge at the one responsible. If Drake did not make an effort to dodge, and soon, he would soon find himself face-to-face with an enraged Chaos Space Marine—not a pleasant prospect by any stretch of the imagination.
Leona's target saw her missile coming and attempted to throw himself clear, but he was not fast enough; before he could get out of the way the krak missile struck the ground at his feet, and he vanished in the ensuing explosion with a truncated howl of frustration. Arcturus' assailant, meanwhile, saw him coming and attempted to draw a bead on the chargin Inquisitor; but Arcturus' own barrage made it impossible to do so, his shots staggering the Traitor Legionnaire with every impact, and in the end he was forced to fire wildly as he began backing away.
The final pair of traitors had managed to reach cover at this point, and were presently trading fire with the Cadians and skitarii; they managed to pick off a few of the defenders here and there, but it seemed clear to all those present that their offensive had petered out.
The Danse Macabre Codex
RRAAAAAAAAARRHHHHHHH!!!!!
-Blood pumping furiously from his wound, eyes red with rage, Trogg turns on the other Marine once the threat to the Saint is dealt with. Grabbing a handle of the chainaxe, he forces it towards the grotesque warrior's helmet while clubbing at it with his arm.-
edited 20th Nov '11 11:36:36 AM by Chabal2
Dreams of Revenge
If it was even possible, the last vestiges of colour had drained from Drake's face, and the Guardsman needed no encouragement to dive out of the way, after which he scrambled to his feet and tried to squeeze off some shots at the enraged Traitor Marine. However, he had quite clearly been shaken by the experience and - surprisingly - the loss of Trogg's hand, and so his aim may well have not been what it would have usually been like.
Locking you up on radar since '09
Arcturus remained undeterred by the incoming fire, and a savage grin spread across his features - even terrifying, monstrous opponents such as Traitor Legionaires went down when you knew how. And now it was time to move in for the kill. The Inquisitor always found this moment, where a split-second of indecisiveness could as easily be the end of you as your opponent, to be uniquely thrilling. He didn't hesitate, even when one of the massive bolt-rounds flew past his head with only about fifteen centimetres of room to spare, to close the remaining distance with the traitor and swing for the marine's somewhat less protected stomach area rather than the thick ceramite chest plate.
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Not Literally Me
-Leona lowers the missile launcher, the machinery responding as an extension of herself to stow the weapon. She wasn't likely to get anotherworthwhile shot with it, and for now the autocannon was a more useful weapon for it's rate of fire and speed. She had raised her autocannon and began looking for a clear target when the berserker came charging at Drake roaring like a man possessed.-
-Knowing that Drake didn't stand a chance if the traitor was allowed to close the gap, Leona moved fast, lowering her weapon and weaving through the barricades to Drake's position, standing in front and slightly to the side of him. Seeing the bloodthirsty astartes barrelling towards them, straightened up, stood firm in preparation for the impact. She'd barely made it in time, but she was directly blocking the berserker's path. There was no time to fire, to aim, she just had to stand firm and hope the brute's chainaxe couldn't pierce her armour.-
"One thing, though- apparently the eldest goat is the bastard child of Muhammad Ali and the Hulk." ~ Exelixi, on The Three Billy Goats Gruff.
The howling berzerker had no time to check his charge before Leona interposed herself between him and his target, and the Chaos Space Marine slammed into the tsukogami with considerable force and speed; were it not for her considerable frame, she would almost certainly have been knocked prone by such a brutal impact. The renegade was momentarily dazed by their collision, an irresistable force baffled by its meeting with an immovable object, but he recovered quickly and began to hack at her with his chainaxe; his first blow seemed to lack power, however, for the profane weapon's snarling teeth did little more than scratch the finish of her cumbersome armour. This was unlikely to remain the case if he pressed his attack, however; his next strike would almost certainly have far more weight to it.
The other berzerker, for his part, was struggling ferociously to keep his own weapon at bay; Trogg's inhuman strength and the repeated blows of his ragged, meaty stump were taking their toll on the Traitor Legionnaire, however, and every hit that the enraged Ogryn delivered brought the snarling axehead closer to his helmed face. That he would not survive this confrontation was all but certain, for the abhuman's fury would allow for no other possible outcome; yet in spite of this, the knowledge of his imminent demise did not seem to bother the Chaos Space Marine at all.
"It has been...too long since I last felled a giant," the tainted warrior grunted, his tone one of mild admiration. "Would that...I'd had the chance...to do so again..."
Arcturus' foe was not fast enough to dodge, and he let out a brief grunt as the Inquisitor's power sword bit deep into his side. Yet while he had been dealt a mortal blow, the Chaos Space Marine was not finished just yet; tossing aside his bolter, the black-armoured renegade grabbed Arcturus by the shoulders before cocking his head back to deliver a monstrous headbutt; if this blow connected, the resulting damage to Arcturus' skull would be most unpleasant indeed.
Zee, meanwhile, had retrieved her boltpistol and was busily firing upon the final pair of renegades; she advanced towards them on foot, hoping to introduce them to the blood-soaked teeth of her chainsword. Alas, the Living Saint was to be denied—some unspoken communication seemed to pass between the Traitors, for they broke from cover at the same moment and began retreating back whence they'd come, trading shots with the remaining defenders as they fled.
"Do not think this a victory, lapdogs of the False Emperor!" one of them snarled, yelling to be heard over the roaring crack of his boltgun. "Our brothers may have fallen here, but their names shall live forever! We shall have Vengeance!"
The Danse Macabre Codex
-Apparently ignoring the enemy of humanity's words, Trogg continues pounding at the helmet and forcing the whirring chainaxe closer.-
To deny the traitor marine leverage and to protect himself, Arcturus brought up his ceramite-plated right arm - which held his pistol, though it'd be dangerous to aim and fire it this close - and leapt forward, to meet the blow before it could build to much speed. This was the only way he could think of to redirect the blow to somewhere other than his much more fragile skull right now. Better a dislocated shoulder or broken arm than having the contents of his skull ignobly spilled all over the floor.
When in deadly danger, When beset by doubt, Run in little circles, Wave your arms and shout.
Zee had dashed into the elevator with all haste, and as Arcturus hailed Remilia the Living Saint had occupied herself with checking her weapons. The bolt pistol was loaded with a full clip, and an expression of grim satisfaction spread across her face as she racked the slide; holding the gun in one hand, she drew her chainsword with the other and thumbed its activation rune, setting the weapon's many diamond-edged teeth in motion.
This particular fighting style was similar to one she had employed decades earlier, before her fall and redemption, but at the time she had been in possession of her unique whipsword Aphrodite, and this blade simply could not match up to the flexibility and versatility of that weapon. She would have prefered to simply stick with holding the chainsword in both hands, as had been her style of choice for the last century and a half, but given the circumstances she was taking no chances; powerful two-handed strokes were ideal for dealing with most enemies, but Chaos Space Marines were something else entirely—with the Psionic Inhibitor limiting the use of her abilities, she would need every possible edge against so dangerous a foe.
Governor Mortis' keycard had worked just as advertised; no sooner had Arcturus slotted the device into a corresponding receptacle on the elevator car's control panel than a brief clack of shifting gears had issued forth from the walls, and the car began to descend with considerable speed. Scant seconds after the Inquisitor had ended his transmission with Remilia a loud screech of metal catching against metal rang out, and the car slowed to a sudden and jarring halt on the twenty-ninth floor.
Muffled sounds of battle issued from beyond the elevator door, their muted quality doing little to blunt their intensity; the continuous roar of autocannons, the dull roar of boltguns, the snarling growls of chainswords and muffled cries of pain and defiance could all be heard by the retinue as they waited for the doors to open.
Seconds later they did, revealing a scene of carnage and devastation. The elevator had deposited them on a long, narrow hallway similar to the one they had passed through upon first entering the palace; like that great corridor, this one's expanse was packed with barricades, broken terrain and servitor-manned gun nests—all of which had proven little impediment to the ten armoured behemoths charging towards the defenders. There were soldiers here, an ecclectic mixture of Guardsmen dressed in the uniforms of a Cadian regiment and silent, slightly-sinister masked men clad in the red surplices of the Adeptus Mechanicus' Tech-Guard; these mixed guardsmen and skitarii had taken cover behind some of the barricades and were busily firing upon their aggressors, filling the air with dozens of hastily-aimed lasgun beams.
Such a heavy curtain of fire would have cut down or seriously discouraged any normal enemy, but the Astartes could not be considered 'normal' by any stretch of the term, and their Chaotic counterparts were no exception; clad in archaic suits of onyx power armour, defaced mockeries of the holy battle plate worn by the true Angels of Death, these ten Chaos Space Marines waded through the withering barrage with an almost contemptuous lack of concern for their own well-being. The renegades were divided into two squads of five—one, armed to the teeth with hideously-distorted chainswords, chainaxes and other grotesquely-corrupted melee weapons; and the other, hanging back to support their close combatants with accurate bursts of fire from their unholy bolters.
"For the Dark Gods!" bellowed one of the berzerkers, and his brethren answered his cry with an atavistic howl of raw, animal hatred as they tore into one of the servitor gun nests with the fury of ten thousand years.
"For Vengeance!" snarled a member of the second squad, punctuating his battle cry with a well-aimed shot that blew one guardsman's head to a bloody pulp.
The Danse Macabre Codex