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Post by Silke Kraushaar on Feb 19, 2024 17:08:14 GMT
RISING STORM
OVERVIEW
» Faction(s): Imperium, Chaos
» Location(s): Velon, Corinthe System
» GM Required: Yes
» Group Size: 3-5
» Duration: 2-3 Weeks
» Notes:Enforced turn order; 24 hour turns. GM may be unavailable for first two weeks of February, during which the thread would pause or have longer GM delays if it has started.
Summary
Since the Cicatrix Maledictum split the Imperium in twain and made warp travel even more perilous than usual, ships have been limping into the Corinthe system to seek safety. Most are easily identified and, though temporarily quarantined for safety, are soon released to travel the system as needed; warships have seen increased requisition into battlefleet Corinthe, however.
Despite the best efforts of the beleaguered battlefleet and security forces, some problems do arise. One such issue is a number of battered, military transports dropping out of the warp near Velon, and conveniently out of Sikyoni's immediate vicinity.
These ships refused all attempts to communicate with them, and while it was possible they were too damaged, the likelihood that not even one would have been able to respond was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
The transports wasted no time in entering Velon's atmosphere, whether out of nefarious intent or a necessity before the ships fell apart was irrelevant. Battlefleet Corinthe scrambled to act, but were too slow to intercept and the ships managed to land on the agri-world.
Though clearly imperial by design, the transports bore concerning markings associated with the astra militarum forces of sub-sector Varek, which had recently gone renegade. Such forces included the 47th, 114th, and 212th Valhuran infantry regiments under the command of colonel Ademar de Barros who had been routed from the sub-sector and was presumed missing.
In response, the Valorous Heart, a dictor-class cruiser, and a small escort fleet, was sent to Velon. They carry with them the 13th Death Korps Siege Regiment and elements of the Corinthean Guard and Tirynese Chosen. Sikyoni has also dispatched a number of battle sisters from the Order of the Argent Shroud to assist in purging the agri-world that Corinthe cannot afford to lose.
Possible Outcomes » The enemy gains a foothold, but despite their best efforts, are unable to hold and are scattered across Velon » The enemy becomes entrenched, resulting in a series of pitched battles that cause minor disruption to Velon's production » Despite the best efforts of the Corinthean forces, the enemy is able to hold their position, entrench, and begins destabilizing Velon, causing major production issues for the agri-world
Important Note: Priority will be given to sign-ups by members of the 13th Krieg, relevant Corinthean guard regiments, and the Order of the Argent Shroud. When sign-ups close, any remaining positions not filled by these organizations will be filled on a first-come first-serve basis.
A STORM OVER VELON
//>>> CORINTHE SYSTEM //>>> PLANET VELON //>>> ABOARD THE FURIOUS HOPE //>>> ca. 001.M42
Captain Wenzel's patrol had proven as uninteresting as ever. For the last year, ships had come and rarely gone, and most that entered the sector were battered and broken. They sought safe haven and repairs that could get them operable once more, but occasionally some ships dropped out of warp space intact. Those tended to be warships of some sort, much like Wenzel's Furious Hope, a simple corvette enforcing fleet presence around Velon.
Wenzel's ship served as one of a small number in the pickets around the planet attempting to plug the gaps beyond the reach of Sikyoni, the fortress moon of the Inquisition which provided some semblance of defense. However, it could not defend what it could not see nor reach, and thus Wenzel came into play.
Thus far, Velon had remained safe and sound and he planned to keep it that way as long as he maintained his watch.
Wenzel raised his mug of recaf to his lips and took a small sip. Still too hot. He shook his head and lowered it down just as an adjutant rushed to his side.
"Captain, we're receiving reports of warp activity."
"Prepare to intercept and transmit instructions," Wenzel ordered as always. It never varied. Intercept. Give instructions. See them on their way. He sighed.
"But captain, the activity is very close to the planet. We're anticipating arrival in real space to be well within the planet's gravity well. It will be dangerous to get too close."
Wenzel gripped the arm of his chair and spun to face the adjutant. "Confirm auspex readings immediately."
He whirled back around as the adjutant scurried off. "Helm! Adjust course to entry coordinates and proceed at full speed."
Activity around the bridge whipped into a furious pace, like a hive of agitated bees preparing to defend their home. "Prepare all weapons and lock target to the first ship you see."
The Furious Hope wasn't a large ship, but she was well armed for her size. Macro-batteries came to life and torpedoes were secured within their tubes and readied for launch. There weren't many warships she'd win against, but she could bloody the nose of even the strongest given the opportunity to fire.
But it was a bit too late. The warp ripped open and disgorged several dozen busted up and battle-worn transport ships, none of which appeared armed at a first glance. However, that mattered little, as their drives fired up and pushed them towards the planet.
Wenzel got to his feet, spilling his recaf over the side of his chair in the process, and grit his teeth. "Open vox, broadcast all channels."
He waited until he was given the green light. "Unidentified ships, this is Captain Sam Wenzel of the Furious Hope, kill your drives and power down to minimal systems and prepare for further instructions. You have thirty seconds to comply."
He silenced the vox. "Fire torpedoes."
"Sir? But it-"
"Fire! Now!"
It was merely a courtesy to give the unidentified transports a chance to comply, but torpedoes took time to get where they needed to be, and Wenzel wasn't a fool. He wasn't waiting those thirty seconds. He'd risk the fallout later.
The torpedoes burst forth from the prow of the ship and seared through the void. One clipped the back end of a transport ship and erupted into a mighty explosion that blew the rear half of the ship clean off and sent the rest careening into the other ships. A second torpedo connected clean midship and vaporized the transport.
Unfortunately, that was all the Furious Hope could hope for.
Wenzel roared. "Full ahead! Give it everything she's got - risk everything! We put our lives on the line today, because if those ships get to the surface far more than just us will suffer!"
He could feel his ship lurch forward as the engines were pushed well beyond the point of safety, or sanity, and dropped down into his seat again.
"Adjutant. Adjutant!" He whirled around to see the young lad scurrying back over.
"Yes, captain?"
"Get me a channel to fleet command. They need to know what is happening."
//>>> CORINTHE SYSTEM //>>> MOON OF ARKHAIA //>>> BATTLEFLEET COMMAND //>>> ca. 001.M42
Andreas Lubitz, High Admiral of Battlefleet Corinthe and eminent figure in the defense of the system and sector hunched over the massive display table in the center of the briefing room and took a deep breath.
"I'm certain I don't need to tell any of you how serious this has gotten," he began. There were subtle murmurs and a few simple shaken heads, but the gravity of the situation had certain fallen on those assembled. "Velon is one of the few places Corinthe can reliably source food for now, and without food we are going to have a whole host of problems far worse than a handful of bastards traipsing around the jungles and causing trouble."
He slapped the back of his right hand against the top of the display. "Captain Wenzel and the Furious Hope gave it all to get us as much information as possible and to do all they could to stop these ships from landing, but now it falls to us."
"Picts captured and relayed before we lost contact with the Furious Hope tell us that these ships contain elements of the 47th, 114th, and 212th Valhuran from sub-sector Varek. These regiments, and others like them, were under the command of colonel Ademar de Barros who went rogue some time ago and was routed from the sub-sector by the 13th Siege Regiment from Krieg and other forces of the Inquisition.
"The issue should be obvious. Those that should have been destroyed in the name of the Emperor are now on our door step rather than burnt to a crisp courtesy of holy promethium. Because they failed to stop them in the past, the 13th is being redeployed aboard the Valorous Heart along with anything and anyone we can currently spare. Sikyoni has even seen fit to sent some of the Adepta Sororitas along for the ride, so we can expect the fighting to be fierce."
Admiral Lubitz took a moment to catch his breath and then folded his hands behind his back. "We need to secure Velon. I don't think that I can emphasize that any more than I already have. You know what is at stake now. So, get to work!"
//>>> CORINTHE SYSTEM
//>>> PLANET VELON //>>> ABOARD THE VALOROUS HEART //>>> ca. 001.M42
The enemy had returned.
De Barros, or at least those he commanded, had come to Corinthe rather than tuck their tails between their legs and run away. Why that was the case escaped Silke, but her orders were clear. Do what they had failed to do before. Kill them to the last and make sure it was done proper this time.
Aboard the Valorous Heart, the mighty cruiser that had been her regiment's home for the last year and change, Silke had often pondered how de Barros had escaped. By all rights they should have had him before, but he slipped through the inquisition's net as if a hole had been made specifically for him. However, such thoughts bordered on treacherous, and were often brushed aside before Silke could dwell on them for too long.
For now, the entirety of the 13th had been assembled in one of the vast hangars of the cruiser and were preparing to deploy on a large number of landing craft. They were not the only ones, though. There were other regiments from Corinthe and Tiryn aboard, too. They had the same mission, but not the same passion that the 13th likely felt at having a chance to reclaim their honor.
The loading ramp of the craft ahead of her began to lower, so Silke raised her helmet and lowered it over her head. She fit it into place and ensured everything was secure before turning to the regiment assembled behind her.
"Board up. We have a job to do," she paused for a brief moment, then turned and strode up the ramp.
Not long after she settled in, the lander took off and exited the hangar into the void and quickly redirected towards Velon's atmosphere. Beyond the thin walls of the lander were hundreds of others from the Valorous Heart, and then hundreds more from other craft, including those of the Order of the Argent Shroud.
All together and impressive display of force by Corinthe, but the Valhurans had time to dig in. Even if they did not possess much in the way of anti-aircraft equipment, it'd be a long an arduous process of digging them out.
Before Silke knew it, the ship was touching down. There had been no resistance thus far, as expected, which contrasted so starkly with many of the other orbital insertions she had conducted in the past, especially against the Valhuran's on their homeworld.
She disembarked as quickly as she could and stepped out onto the jungle-world of Velon, much of which had been converted into massive swathes of industrialized agriculture capable of putting out immense quantities of foodstuffs.
However, here in the jungle inhabited by orks and feral tyranids, the only thing that stood out as man-made was the husk of the fallen corvette, the Furious Hope, which burned at the end of the mighty trench it dug when it slammed into the planet.
Silke didn't know how much of the crew had survived, but the captain had deemed it worth sacrificing the ship and everyone board it to do as much damage as they could. His heroic action had resulted in the complete annihilation of six transports, and the potential destruction of another half dozen, which greatly reduced the number of Valhurans who made it to the planet.
Silke shouldered her hellgun and turned to watch as the plethora of landing craft took advantage of the space the Furious Hope left behind to disgorge tens of thousands of souls onto Velon.
The 13th was quickly assembling, but among them she noticed the armored forms of the Order of the Arden Dawn, as well as uniforms of the Corinthena Guard and Tirynese Chosen. The Valhuran's were going to be the first test that many of those guardsmen had, and a good opportunity for the 13th to show them how it was done.
Silke raised a hand to her collar and activated her command vox. "This is colonel Silke Kraushaar of the 13th Death Korps Siege Regiment. We are establishing our primary beachhead here in the wake of the fallen corvette. Once the orbital auspex scans have located the enemy we will move to engage.
"Prepare defenses, set up your encampments, and your watchmasters will have your orders shortly. Keep an eye on the treeline, because it is not only the Valhurans we have to worry about. Other things lurk in these jungles that are just as deadly, if not worse."
"You have one hour."
She cut the vox and turned to the burnt, overgrown treeline. It felt good to be back at war.
Krost stood in a lander ship, his hand clutching the receiver of his shotgun as he stood there. His lifeless mask stared out of the transport as it was docked in the hangar of this large vessel, he hadn’t even bothered to learn the name of it. It didn’t matter to him at that point as it was just another transport for him to be thrown into some battle. He stood and watched as the members of his squad slowly filled the transport as well as members of other rifle squads piled into the transport. The man’s glove covered hand reached down to his vox communicator, pressing down on the transmitter. His voice spoke, coming through his gas mask.
“Alpha-Zero-Five, loaded into transport Four-Eighty-Three. Prepped and ready.”
Said the man, letting go of the transmitter as he watched the ramp of the lander slowly come up and close them inside. The trip from there tk the surface was a blur for him, he didn’t recall much as everyone in the lander remained silent. This wasn’t normal. In units prior there was always plenty of chatter before a mission or battle, among his inexperienced squad members and fellow soldiers he stood. Some of them were experienced, only having survived a few battles prior to this. But none had really come close to Krost’s years of experience. Soon they hit the ground. Ramp opening as everyone in the lander looked to their exit and prepared themselves. The landing went uncontested for them and they all rushed out, spanning their landing zone and establishing a perimeter.
“Alpha-Zero-Five, we have touched down and are proceeding to the assembly area.”
Quickly he moved his men out, all rallying around his designated area with a bunch of other Engineer squads. There were lines of Hades drilling vehicles lined up. They soon got their tasks over the Vox. They immediately got to work.
“You heard the ma’am. Get on those drills and start digging a trench line. They’ll be on us soon, and we can’t be caught out in the open.”
The teams moved quickly and began their construction of hasty trench lines using drilling vehicles, quickly working and digging out trench patterns that would prove effective for the time being and time given to them.
“Let’s move it!”
Shouted Krost as he supervised the use of several drills, carving out a fresh trench line for infantry to occupy.
Watchmaster Krost Engineer of the Death Korp of Krieg
Aboard one of the countless landing craft deployed from the Valorous Heart was what some might call 'authorized shenanigans'. The members of Alpha Platoon, First Company had their masks off onboard, many smoking lho-sticks, and most having a cup of recaf whether they indulged in the relaxing substance or not. Friendly banter seemed to be the only thing that managed to penetrate through the smoke and steam as the landing craft entered orbit. Some where making bets on who onboard would be the first to score a kill on whatever heretic, mutant, or xenos they encounter. Some would make plans on how to make their temporary tarp homes more comfortable for their stay. And it was one Hans Kraber to blame for this rather 'relaxed discipline', as he puts it.
In his defense, nobody was drunk or was under the influence of any substance that would significantly impair their judgement or bodily motor skills and everyone still had their equipment and everything they needed on them. This, to his mind, was simply a way to boost morale and keep spirits high. Besides, all this remained within their landing craft. Nobody was there to keep them from having a little fun. Even the NCOs seemed to have appreciated this brief moment, even if they needed the persuasion of free recaf and lho-sticks. Of course, this only lasted until they made planet side, where everyone was rather quick to clean up, or rather hide the mess and put their masks back on, for they were passing time, not slacking.
The doors opened the moment the craft made touchdown and Alpha Platoon immediately got to work. Most of them would start setting up camp, getting supplies organized, dig trenches and gather supports for them, and make the place somewhat livable. The remainder are tasked with standing watch or patrol the perimeter of the beachhead. Hans would fall into the latter, marching around the camp with his squad. They weren't afraid to have a little chit-chat while they survey the surrounding area as long as they kept their eyes peeled. It isn't like this was a low profile operation where stealth was key, given the space/aircraft blotting out the sun and thousand upon thousands of people that were effectively building a base in broad daylight, not too far from a number of decommissioned ships from a recent engagement that were all probably still ablaze anyway.
"... Oh, by the way, I got first dibs on your long-las if you go down, Richter. I'll be making the best use of it out of us anyway."
Hans joked, but at the same time, sorta meant what he said.
"Yes, yes, and if you go down, I call dibs on that seemingly endless supply of recaf you have."
His squad-mate Richter replied, giving Hans a light jab to his shoulder.
"Hey, I don't call it my supply of endless recaf, I call it our supply of endless recaf. I merely consider myself to be the manager of it all."
Underneath his cold, expressionless mask was a rather smug expression. If he wasn't wearing it, he would've even shot Richter with a cheeky wink, but alas.
Last Edit: Feb 22, 2024 17:29:03 GMT by Hans Kraber
Post by Silke Kraushaar on Mar 3, 2024 16:54:31 GMT
RISING STORM
SILKE KRAUSHAAR
Everything had gone too well. Silke didn't really care for the accompanying feeling, but if they were able to get their forces onto the surface without any major incidents, then the likelihood the enemy would survive the day was low.
Even now, an hour later, the deployment was well underway. Trenches and various fortifications were being erected around the fall hulk of the ship in order to establish a potent base of operations. Most of the 13th's infantry had already reached planetside, and now their armored elements were trickling in.
The first complication followed shortly after.
"Ma'am!"
Silke half-turned to face Dietmar, nestled into the corner of their hastily erected command center. "What is it, Voxmaster?"
"We've received word from orbital command that the Adepta Sororitas elements we were expecting are delayed and upon arrival will likely be deployed to a different part of the theatre."
Silke let out a soft sigh through her nose. "Thank you."
The second complication did not tarry, either.
As Silke surveyed the deployment of her regiment, a familiar sound caught her attention. She was certainly not the only one who noticed, either, as cries of alarm went up among the men almost immediately.
Artillery fire incoming!
The enemy had clearly set up a number of basilisks and began shelling the deploying guard as soon as they were able, however, they were woefully inaccurate. Shells fell long and short, and only a few hit disastrously close, but it wouldn't take long for them to zero in. Thankfully, the engineers of the 13th had already dug plenty of trenches to keep the troopers safer.
However, the artillery was only part of the concern. Warcries pierced the void between the mighty explosions as hundreds, perhaps a thousand or two, traitors rushed from the treeline to assail the 13th.
They were not the treacherous guard commanded by de Barros, but cultists of a sort, whose bodies were covered in ritual scarification and marred with the horrific signs of Khorne. They wore no armor, and many wore little more than cloth wrappings in a semblance of modesty, but they did not seem to care.
They charged like berserkers, intent to get up close and into the blood fray with the 13th and other Imperial elements. All wielded crude melee weapons. Axes, swords, spears, and more, and while they were poorly fashioned, only a fool would doubt their effectiveness. Only some were armed with ranged weapons of any sort, and those that were carried stub pistols and the like, but their skill with them was nothing noteworthy.
Silke knew she didn't need to give an order to destroy the heretics. Lasfire already filled the air, and a number of their heavier weapons opened up as well, so powerful autocannon and heavy stubber fire ripped through the lines of heretics in a bloody and gruesome display.
Silke herself unslung her hellgun and steadied it upon the edge of her trench. She sighted in and then unleashed a torrent of fire into the oncoming lines.
Others were in a worse position than the Colonel. Watchmaster Krost Cabur and his engineers were far to the front, closest to the enemy when the charge began. While not isolated, there was little in the way of immediate assistance. A single squad of troopers had been filling a trench nearby and opened up readily, and a heavy stubber fired overhead, but otherwise, the squad would have to hold fast and hope reinforcements could reach them before they were overwhelmed. Fortunately, the shotguns that engineers like them wielded would be quite potent in repelling the enemy when they got too close.
It was not only the engineers of the 1st company who were in danger, as trooper Hans Kraber soon learned. Their camp had been mostly established, but it was all for naught. The enemy basilisks managed to land two shells right amidst the platoon and covered them in mud and debris. Some were less fortunate and did not survive the surprise assault, but they'd have ample time for vengeance.
The enemy was approaching, and the first platoon was not far from the front trenches, they would be among the first into the fray, and unless they wanted to tackle the heretics in close quarters where they preferred to be, they'd need to get to work laying down lasfire.
All-in-all, losses would be sustained, but the 13th was in a superior position, and the heretics were already hitting their own with their artillery. Victory was just a matter of time, but each of them had to survive until then.
As far as Hans was concerned, despite the artillery shells landing left and right, this was a fairly casual Tuesday for the infamous Death Korps of Krieg. Just cultists? He thought to himself. Surely this was just some diversion to grab their attention. If the Guard was cannon fodder, he would consider these pesky low-lives to be ants. Just not the variety from Catachan. There is no way a ramshackle bunch foul untrained heretics could possibly bring down a force of the Astra Militarum, let alone a ship of the Navis Imperialis.
However, Hans' thoughts would be cut short as explosions came closer to him than he would've preferred. He wasn't hit, but he did decide it would be a good time to jump into a trench and begin laying down las-fire along with the majority of his platoon that remained. Many heretics would be left in pieces, the relatively powerful Lucius Pattern Lasguns doing their humble duty in the name of the God Emperor. Those of the wretched cultists that didn't were stabbed and or beaten down till they stood no more, ultimately still satiating their dark god with the violence he feasts upon.
Of course, there were still many cultists left to shoot, but the real concern were the Basilisks that continued to bombard them. The cultists were merely an angry wall of meat. Hans felt a bit of temptation to leap out of the trench, charge with his bayonet attached, and attempt to run straight for the Basilisks with krak grenades. His better judgement got the better of him, believing that the Emperor would prefer if he stayed low, shoot as many cultists as he could, and let the company's Leman Russ tanks take care of the artillery.
Post by Silke Kraushaar on Mar 27, 2024 13:38:34 GMT
RISING STORM
SILKE KRAUSHAAR
The battle was proving fierce in its opening moments, but few among the loyal men and women of the Imperium believed for even a moment that victory was beyond reach. The enemy was ill-equipped, undisciplined, and possessed only the shoddiest of armaments. They did not possess the numbers to offset those weaknesses like they might have in other theaters. Victory was merely a matter of time.
Nevertheless, combat is a brutal and ugly thing. The trenches filled with mud and blood, churned up by boots, and covered with the bodies of fallen loyalists and heretics alike. Losses were inevitable and unavoidable, and all the could be done was mitigation.
Trench fighting may be where the Kriegers excelled, but luck was not always on their side - at least, not further individuals.
Engineer Kabur, preparing to fight for his life as wild heretics rushed his position, vanished in a massive plume of debris when an artillery shell connected with the trench. His fate, and that of his team, remained unknown, just like so many others.
Elsewhere in the trenches, Hans Kraber fought with discipline and precision, many of his lasbolts striking true and felling, or at least slowing, the crazed cultists. Despite the damage inflicted by the lasguns, many of the cultists continued on, even bearing some rather grievous wounds. Whether fervor, drugs, or the will of their dark gods, they sought blood, whether their own or that of others.
One in particular charged forward, leapt across a partially dug trench, and despite being struck by three different lasbolts, managed to spray bullets across the trench line where Hans fought, kicking up dirt into his face and potentially rattling the young man before vanishing in a cloud of red mist and limbs as a heavy bolter emplacement ripped through him.
His cries of "blood for the blood god" were cut pitifully short.
Others came, but none managed to get quite as close. Their efforts were not lacking in any way, they were just so badly outmatched.
The main problem remained, however. The artillery still sounded the deployment zone, and unless it stopped, casualties would continue mounting.
Unfortunately, Velon was not friendly to armored warfare, and what lemon russ battle tanks and sentinel walkers had been deployed would prove slow and unwieldy. They'd have to rely on something else to silence the artillery.
Along the trench where Hans resided, a number of heavily geared Grenadines dropped in to replace some casualties and vacancies. Among them was Colonel Kraushaar who ended up practically shoulder-to-shoulder with Hans.
"Trooper, we are pushing through the enemy!" She shouted over the din of battle. "That artillery won't silence itself, so if you can move, join us."
Hans wasn't the only one the Colonel had recruited to her plan. Aside from her personal guard of Grenadines, a good chunk of the 1st company was pushing towards Hans' position and mowing down the enemy.
Silke turned to her vox-carrier and took the receiver. "Colonel Kraushaar to all armored units. Direct attention towards the center and focus fire. Clear a path through these heretics!"
And they did.
All Krieg support turned as one and began decimating the area ahead of Silke and Hans. Cultists fell in droves, and then the big gun fired. The company's shadowsword fired over head and ripped through bodies as if they were not there and continued through the jungle, felling hundreds of trees with a single shot.
"There's our path! Forward!" Silke climbed the edge of the trench and gunned down a straggling cultist with her hellgun. "Forward! For the Emperor!"
With the regimental commander at his side, Hans made a quick tactical reload on his lasgun and then attached his trusty impaling and slicing implement to it for good measure. Before jumping out of the trench to charge, he took a quick sip of recaf from his canteen to clear his throat and took a quick potshot at a cultist in their path. He couldn't tell whether he hit the filthy heretic or not, but by the time Kraber got out of the trench to stick close by to the officer, but never too close. He wouldn't risk making them appear as a bigger target than necessary. Normally, he would approach at a slow or moderate pace to shoot more precisely on the move, but to keep up with the rest of the charge, he sprinted as fast as he could to get a little ahead of them to the nearest form of cover, then stop to take a couple of shots to take down or at least suppress the enemy to an extent. Once they catch up, he'd break back into a sprint to get ahead again and repeat the cycle. A somewhat heavily improvised and messy... inspiration of bounding overwatch, one could say. However, his lesser stamina began to catch up with him halfway through the charge. He was still able to sprint, but having a hard time controlling his breath when pausing to shoot, effectively downgrading his generally precise shooting to suppressive fire, maybe with a couple lucky hits here and there. It didn't help when the traitors against humanity reciprocated their fire towards him, giving him tunnel-vision and causing him to hit even less frequently. He did his best to make up for it by firing his lasgun more frequently in hopes for better suppressive fire, but few would actually be true purging hits by now. At the very least, Kraber managed to keep up with Colonel Kraushaar and the rest of the charge. Maybe he'll do better with his bayonet once they make it to the finish line...
Post by Silke Kraushaar on Apr 29, 2024 14:14:31 GMT
RISING STORM
SILKE KRAUSHAAR
The muddy and bloody battlefield, littered with the corpses of cultists, did not make for easy traversal. Every footfall was precarious, with ample opportunity to slip, trip, or stumble, and anything of that sort could lead to an early demise. Nevertheless, the Kriegsmen pushed forward, unrelenting in the face of the enemy.
Lasfire ripped apart the cultists whose massed charge had long-since been disrupted, and who now had just as much, if not more, trouble picking their way across the approach to the Imperial lines. However, not all went down in a blaze of fire, some managed to survive long enough to close with the counter-charging Kriegsmen.
Several attempted to push towards Silke, but none managed to pass her grenadiers as cultists fell to lasfire and bayonet in equal measure, but not all others were so fortunate. Here and there, the zeal of the cultists managed to overcome the discipline of Krieg, and some were felled by cruel implements of war.
Hans Kraber found himself imperiled in short order. Broken focus and shaky hands led to several near-misses and as he was afflicted by tunnel vision attempting to dispatch one cultist, others got a little too close for comfort. Though Hans eventually landed his shot and dropped the cultist he had been so dedicated to killing, he immediately found two more practically atop him.
The first, frothing at the mouth from an unknown concoction of drugs, raised a chipped and twisted axe above his head, ready to cleave the distracted Kriegersman in two, but a lasbolt from somewhere in the rear clipped the cultist in the shoulder and unbalanced him, disrupting his attack.
Another, wielding knives in both hands moved at Hans' other side, sneakier, hunched down to avoid his fellow's issue, and fully intent on letting blood for the Blood God, he posed an immediate threat and failure to address him would lead to injury, or perhaps, even death.
Beyond Hans the other Kriegsmen were reaching the edge of the forest and the charred and twisted remains of the forest the mighty shadowsword felled. That path would lead them deeper in, but even though the bulk of the cultists had charged forth and rushed the Imperial trenches, the forests were still littered with enemies of mankind.
Beyond them waited the enemy artillery, and silencing them was the first step to victory.
Hans couldn't believe it. A cultist was just about to split his skull until a lasbolt out of nowhere hit the filthy heretic. It didn't seem to kill, but the Emperor seemed to not want Hans to die just yet. He quickly pointed his lasgun at the stunned cultist and fired a single bolt to its head, ceasing it to be a threat. He looked around himself, trying to snap out of his narrowed field of view, spotting another one pouncing towards him. Hans didn't get to fire or even jab at the cultist, but he did at least manage to point his weapon at it. As the cultist's blades were seemingly about to gut him, the cultist instead landed right into his bayonet, the length of the lasgun keeping it just out of arms reach. Hans quickly withdrew the bayonet out of his immediate adversary and followed up with a thrust right into its throat. Withdrawing it again, it was clear that the cultist was finished, but for good measure, he gave it a swift smack in the jaw with the butt of his weapon, knocking the vile thing down for good.
His issues were far from over, not surprisingly. As a hostile round flew inches past his head, he quickly ducked and dived, crawling his way to cover where he can return fire more effectively. With a couple more threats taken care of, he took another quick sip of recaf and eyed for the commanding officer. It didn't take him long to spot her just up ahead, and without hesitation, he sprinted his way up to catch up with her and the rest of the advance towards the artillery formation. He decided to stick with his comrades rather than get ahead of them this time, while shooting on the move. It might not be as effective, but at least he too is a harder target to hit and he had numbers on his side. Even better news is that they might just be too close for artillery to hit them now. And as long as he stayed focused, the 'infantry' cultists would become little more than a nuisance.
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