Liberalia Martiale 2017 - Collaboration

[Race Bannon]

A whining could be heard from outside over the metallic rumbling within the Gargant.  Corwin recognized it as artillery shell.  He quickly crouched and clutched the edges of the gantry he walked upon as the Gargant lurched violently from the impact.  The massive machine was closer to the Imperial lines than he preferred; the giant machine must fall and the long-range attack from outside would not be enough.  A door at the end of the walk-way opened and an Ork wearing goggles and carrying a menagerie of tools appeared.  He was shocked to see the Raven Guard, and then recovered as he lifted a heavy wrench and charged Corwin.

[Damo1701]

Assessing his surroundings in a fraction of a second, Corwin stepped aside and impaled the greenskin on his lightning claw, before crushing its skull with his power fist.  Gaining confidence, Corwin then laying melta bombs in a pattern that would cripple the motive power of the walking deathtrap.  Using patches of rust and soot-deepened shadows to hide the devices, Corwin was sure something was going to go wrong.  It had been too easy...

[Machine God]

Assessing his surroundings in a fraction of a second, Corwin stepped aside and impaled the greenskin on his lightning claw, before crushing its skull with his power fist. Gaining confidence, Corwin then LAID melta bombs in a pattern that would cripple the motive power of the walking deathtrap. Using patches of rust and soot-deepened shadows to hide the devices, Corwin was sure something was going to go wrong. It had been too easy...

[Damo1701]

With an impact like that of a Thunderfire Cannon, Brother Falmon Corwin hit the ground with the bodies of his sergeant and another member of his squad. His white arms a paste of dust and darkening Astartes blood. The rest of Talon Strikeforce Bannon was out of reach, and the vox was unintelligible, his brothers would not return to the chapter. Taking stock of his situation, Corwin could hear and feel the brutish abomination of the Ork approaching, the sound of their chanting, and the mechanical bellow of the monstrous parody of an Imperial Titan they were swarming over.

 

He had two melta bombs, a handful of frag grenades, his lightning claw, and his partially functional power fist. For now, he must attend his jump pack before returning to the fray. That Gargant was heading directly for the Ravenguard staging area, whether the orks knew it or not, the Ravenguard were in danger of destruction on this world. Would speed or stealth serve him the best?

 

Corwin looked to his fallen Brothers and acted quickly. Pulling the cords holding their Corvia, he clumsily added the personal relics to his own as the bulky Power Fist made the task challenging. Activating a status check for his jump pack, Corwin smiled as the fuel reserves were enough for several jumps. Looking up, the Gargant slowly stomped closer to his Chapter's lines. Destroying the Gargant was the mission, and without his Brothers, the task would be difficult, but he must do what he can. He quickly plotted multiple jump routes to avoid as much attention as he could; the options were plentiful. Corwin chose a path and pulsed his Jump Pack and took to the air, aiming for a jutting piece of metalwork that looked like it would give him access to the internals of the stomping construct. Landing, without a sound to be heard above the rattling and clanking of the orkoid machine, Corwin began examining the armour plating, checking his retinal display for weak points to exploit with his power fist.

 

Corwin spotted a seam that was fitted poorly, even by greenskin standards, several meters below his position. It looked as though one solid blow could crack it open if he hit it just right. He took a deep breath as he waited for the perfect moment, then he leaped and mistimed his grab. Cursing, he grabbed a Krak grenade from his belt and hurled it at the offending seam. Corwin triggered his jump pack to prevent him from hitting the ground as the grenade exploded, ripping the armour plate off the Gargant and sending it spinning through the space he had occupied moments earlier.

 

There was no rhyme or reason to how the "Kine", as his Battle Brothers in the Crimson Fist referred to the Orks, had built this abomination. Panels of Red and black rusted metal haphazardly thrown together and quickly painted to get it out on the field of battle. During his service in the Deathwatch, Corwin made friends with a Leoxus Werner, a Sgt from the Crimson Fists Chapter. As Corwin rode atop this monstrosity, he could hear his friends voice in his head retelling stories of Crimson Fists fighting gargants and how they would deal with them . As the voice completed the story, Corwin saw it, the panel leading to the ammo storage for the gargants weapons the perfect distraction point. "May the Emperor protect you Sgt Werner'" Corwn said aloud as he went after the ammunition storage access panel.

 

As he strode across the gangway towards the ammo storage, a guttural grunt was exerted as a crude greenskin dropped from gantry up above directly down in his path. The creature seemed completely unaware of Corwin's presence, headed towards the same door as himself. Corwin dropped to a crouched position and observed the creature. Covered in tinkerer's tools, with a clunky glass piece over one eye, Corwin could only hazard a guess that this Ork was a tech-adept of their kind (if such a thing could even be considered as rational). The creature fumbled at the door panel, making multiple loud grunts and almost barking like noises. Corwin watched and waited, hoping for the opportune time to overtake his opponent would present itself. With the stealth only a son of Corax can achieve, Corwin crept up behind the oblivious xenos. Biding his time, Corwin waited for the Ork to pry the door open and save him the trouble of doing it himself.

 

With a final grunt the heavy door swung open, revealing the dim interior of the massive construction. Just as the Ork was about to step inside Corwin activated the power field on his lightning claw and unceremoniously impaled it. With a squeal, the greenskin slid off Corwin's claw and flopped off the catwalk to bounce down to the ground below. With the Ork out of the way, Corwin poked his head into the ammo storage cavity Corwin's eyes caught something that made him smile under his MK IV helm. Large Caliber rounds were stacked along a wall. Gripping the casing in his Lighting clawed hand and the large slug in the other he removed the large slugs showing the exposed gunpowder. He continued doing this until he had 5 casings with exposed gun powder. He then began pouring the gunpowder across the floor leading to more stored ammunition and the exit path. "This should be a good distraction" as he exited the room priming a grenade as he crept out. Straight in to the path of a gaggle of screeching Orkoid menials and a whip wielding roaring Ork. Lashing about to his left and right with his lightning claw and power fist at the runts he activated his jump pack. His flight path caused him to bowl the Ork to the floor and the flames from his jump pack ignited the spilt cordite and gunpowder whilst he raced out of the area.

 

Brother Corwin navigated the the twisting ruins as the hissing sounds of cordite and gunpowder ignited. Up ahead he could see the opening he had caused earlier or he could continue to the other side of the gargant by falling the catwalks. Brother Corwin decided to move to the other side by following the catwalks. He landed and noticed that the Gargant had listed quite severely to its left side due to the partial destruction of the weapons limb the melted iron works of the arm had not been blown clean of the Gargant and this mass was causing the list. So the Gargant was now headed still forward but veering to the left and so whilst it might miss the Raven's Guard staging area it still needed to be destroyed as an affront to the Omnissiah.

 

Whilst moving along the catwalk a sudden explosion caused him to slip off the gantry but with his superior reflexes he managed to grab a hold of the edge of the gantry with his lightning claw.

Assessing the space he had, Corwin triggered his jump pack for a fraction of a second, cannoning him towards the rusty ceiling. Deftly activating his power fist, Corwin punched through the approaching obstacle and found himself in some sort of mess. Orks and grots were frozen, in the midst of eating, sleeping, fighting, drinking, shooting at each other.  

 

"'Ere, dis 'umie mus be wot cozzed all dat ruckus!" snarled the largest of them "Get 'im, lads!" 

 

As the large Ork spoke he grabbed a passing grot and hurled it in the veteran's direction. Corwin skewered the terrified grot on his inert lightning claw and activated its power field with a thought, blowing the hapless xenos​ to pieces. As he slaughtered greenskins, the Raven Guard looked around for an exit from the tiny, filthy room. Spotting a door he began to work his way toward it when suddenly the large Ork that had thrown a grot at him stepped in his way. 

 

"Where ya tink yoos goin', 'umie?"

 

Without caring to speak to the giant menace, Corwin raised the Power Fist deliberately slower than he could.  The Ork watched the weapon and parried with his axe easily.  His momentum from the defense made him blind to Corwin's second attack.  With the Fist pushed away, Corwin's other arm was dragged with more force and the Lightning Claw was brought down, severing the lumbering Ork's arms at the elbows.  Howling in pain and spraying green blood, it staggered away from the Raven Guard.  While the beast was distracted, Corwin knocked its head clear off its shoulders and watched in disgust as the grots started grinning wickedly and tearing hunks of flesh from the corpse.  Corwin, not wanting to waste more time then he already had, primed a frag grenade and dropped at the grots feet as they devoured the fallen ork. Moving quickly Corwin heard the small explosion and then silence as the grenade exploded.

 

"Guns disabled, damage is causing it to list to one side.....if I can find the engine area and cause this monstrosity to stop completely maybe then " thought Corwin to himself.  "I can take it out of the fight" Corwin finished his thought. 

 

Thinking for a moment, Corwin decided that the most logical place for the engine room would be as close to the legs as possible, in this case, down. Orks don't always do the logical thing, but he couldn't stand around all day either so he began tapping around with one power armored foot in search of a place that sounded more hollow than the others. 

 

After finding a spot that met his requirements he activated his power fist and brought his left hand crashing down to the deck in front of him. With a squeal of tearing metal, he opened up a hole large enough for himself​ and dropped through.

 

Using his power fist, Corwin grabbed a dangling cable and used it to guide his descent.  With his right hand, Corwin checked his explosives levels.  One Krak grenade, 2 melta bombs, and 3 frags.  His power levels were approaching critical, and he could still not contact Strike Force Command.  Satisfied with the damage he was causing so far, the veteran marine deactivated most of his armour systems he deemed non-essential.

 

As he slid down the cable, Corwin could hear the growl of the engine growing louder. He began slowing his descent by clinching his fist around the cable.

 

"No need to drop down into a mob orks," he calmly thought.

 

As he approached the bowels of the Gargant and it's engine bay. He hoped his remaining explosives would be enough or this may prove to be a challenge.

 

Brother Corwin knew the heat of battle slowed things down and non-essential things the brain got rid of, but he wondered too. Why have I only seen three Orks and some Gretchin in the whole of this Gargant? It's not a small Stompa, I should have been swarmed by Orks by now! Surely Corax was smiling on him but there must be hundreds of Orks still to come in that engine room.

 

A whining could be heard from outside over the metallic rumbling within the Gargant.  Corwin recognized it as artillery shell.  He quickly crouched and clutched the edges of the gantry he walked upon as the Gargant lurched violently from the impact.  The massive machine was closer to the Imperial lines than he preferred; the giant machine must fall and the long-range attack from outside would not be enough.  A door at the end of the walk-way opened and an Ork wearing goggles and carrying a menagerie of tools appeared.  He was shocked to see the Raven Guard, and then recovered as he lifted a heavy wrench and charged Corwin.  

Assessing his surroundings in a fraction of a second, Corwin stepped aside and impaled the greenskin on his lightning claw, before crushing its skull with his power fist.  Gaining confidence, Corwin then laid melta bombs in a pattern that would cripple the motive power of the walking deathtrap.  Using patches of rust and soot-deepened shadows to hide the devices, Corwin was sure something was going to go wrong.  It had been too easy.

 

 

[Shadow Captain Vyper]

After placing the charges and setting the timers, Corwin moved through the doorway the greenskin had come through. He had a rudimentary understanding of how these machines were laid out, and he knew the lowest levels contained troop holds from which hordes of greenskins would come surging forth. Going through the hatch he could see a jagged set of stairs that descended down to the lowest levels of the Stompa. He began his descent, and at various irregular intervals, the stairwell would have offshoots where Corwin could hear the report of gunfire. Knowing the outside of the Stompa was festooned with gun nests manned by a few Orks each, Corwin could deduce that is where these side gantries lead. Knowing once the Stompa was disabled all of these Orks would be as good as dead, he choose to move silently past these gun nests to make his escape with the time he had left. Coming to the bottom of the stairwell there was another hatch. Extending his lightning claw, Corwin delicately sheared off the locking mechanism on his side of the door, slowly swinging the door outwards.

Revealed to him was a massive cargo hold that he could tell doubled as a troop embarkation deck. Scattered everywhere was the detritus of war: crates of ammunition, primitive yet brutal weapons for close combat, and piles and piles of ranged weapons of all kinds. He quickly slid in through the door, moving with a grace and speed bestowed upon him by his gene-sire. He came to a rest in a dark corner of the embarkation deck behind a pile of metal plates and armor. It was clear from the trappings and size these were meant to be some form of armor, but they all took on fetish-like shapes of their heathen gods. Corwin felt a sense of revulsion just being near all of this crude "equipment", but the Chapter's needs and his will to further protect the loss of Imperial life drove him onwards. Peering out from behind the makeshift cover Corwin took stock of the occupants of the staging area. Given they were still a fair distance from the Imperial lines, Corwin had expected to find a large number of Orks at this level, but to his surprise this was not the case.

The hold was filled with a mix of hundreds of the smaller breed of Orks: Grots and their smaller cousins Snotlings. The Snotlings appeared to be working in teams, with each "team" being supervised by a handful of Grots. Watching them work disgusted Corwin, simply due to the utter absence of anything resembling humanity. The Grots and Snotlings busied themselves to moving material around the hold in a seemingly pointless pattern, simply moving what appeared to be a pile of trash from one side to the other for no apparent reason (at least not that Corwin could begin to comprehend). In the middle of the room however stood a hulking Ork by anyone's measure of the term. Most Orks known to Corwin stood close to 2 Meters in height, slightly shorter than himself, albeit stout of build and in possession of prodigious strength (coupled with feral stupidity). This Ork was substantially bigger than that however, standing at nearly 3 Meters tall. What really made the Ork interesting was not his size however, but his appearance. He was covered in crude metal, from plating at his skull all the way down to his absence of legs. Just below his torso, his legs had been replaced with a large tracked machine, armored and weaponized. Belching black smoke this augmetic lower half appeared to not only be his form of locomotion, but also a symbol of his power.

The Ork bellowed out orders to the Grots who in turn screeched and kicked at the Snotlings, spurring them to continual labor. It appeared to Corwin a very simple hierarchy here, survival of the fittest in its truest form manifested before him. Watching the Ork trundle about the deck barking orders intrigued Corwin. This creature truly was built to kill, but something about its movements and broken guttural speech was different. Over the decades of war that Corwin had served the Chapter, he had killed many greenskins, and had known them to be utterly brutal but ultimately incredibly stupid. This Ork was a different breed altogether. It appeared to him from his movements and orders that this Ork was planning something. The thought itself made Corwin feel uneasy.

Observing the hulking metal abomination, Corwin could hear Shadow Captain Korvydae’s condescending tone in his mind from when he was an Aspirant: “It is not enough to simply kill your enemy, you must understand him, so that your knowledge and skill can be put to effect to reap the maximum amount of damage possible with the minimal amount of force!”. He hoped Korvydae was still alive out there somewhere on this Emperor-forsaken world. It was apparent to Corwin this creature was a breed apart of its species. The absence of other Orks on this deck told Corwin that this Ork in particular was either shunned (or feared) by the rest of its species, and while he commanded this Stompa (that much was clear), he was not equal amongst his kind. It was almost as if this misbegotten creature was being punished for being more intelligent than its kin. Regardless, in order to complete his mission, Corwin knew he would need to dispatch this lumbering monstrosity to get to the open end of the deck where he could use his jump pack to evacuate the Stompa before the timer on his melta bombs expired.

Readying himself to fight this…thing, Corwin reached down to grab the remaining supply of his frag and krak grenades on his bandolier, laying it out so as to prep the remaining supply to go off at once to create an explosive percussion from which to begin his assault. After preparing the grenades, he engaged the power field on his fist, and extended his claws. With a snap-hiss, the energy field encasing his claws sprung to life, emitting a dull blue glow. Leaning down to grab his bandolier, Corwin heard a squeal nearby. Standing but a few meters from him, a tiny snotling – naught but 20 centimeters in height – was staring at him and his glowing weapons. Looking at the snotling, Corwin then slowly turned to look back into the hold. The large Ork’s tracked base slowly ground around to face his direction, right at the pile of debris that was sheltering Corwin. The Ork barked something unintelligible at this distance to the snotling, and the snotling responded with another short series of squeals. “Throne!” cursed Corwin to himself, as the lumbering Ork began rolling his direction. Corwin quickly grabbed the bandolier, and stood up to his full height. Seeing him standing at his full height, the small snotling let out another terrified yelp, while at the same time the brutal Ork emitted a challenging bellow across the hold, accelerating towards him. Corwin lifted his leg, and his greave came crashing down on the snotling, pulverizing him into a paste. "Disgusting" he remarked to himself. He turned to regard the charging Ork.

No more subterfuge now, simply strength of arms and martial prowess would decide how this ends. Corwin felt a well of hatred spring forth from deep inside him: This thing had been party to, and more than likely responsible for the death of his brothers and fellow squad mates. He welcomed the hate, and let it fuel his strength and focus. He would kill every living thing on this deck before they see him gone. Not because the mission demands it, but because his honor does. Breaking into a pounding stride, Corwin lowered his right shoulder and helmed head down while accessing his flight controls for his pack. Just before hitting the ignition sequence for a hard burn, Corwin whispered to himself “Victorus Aut Mortis”.

Edit: I'm going to clean this up a bit, but I wanted to post it and think about a few adjustments for now. Edit 2: Adjustments made.

[Damo1701]

After placing the charges and setting the timers, Corwin moved through doorway the greenskin had come through. He had a rudimentary understanding of how these machines were laid out, and he knew the lowest levels contained troop holds from which hordes of greenskins would come surging forth. Going through the hatch he could see a jagged set of stairs that descended down to the lowest levels of the Stompa. He began his descent, and at various irregular intervals, the stairwell would have offshoots where Corwin could hear the report of gunfire. Knowing the outside of the Stompa was festooned with gun nests manned by a few Orks each, Corwin could deduce that is where these side gantries lead. Knowing once the Stompa was disabled all of these Orks would be as good as dead, he choose to move silently past these gun nests to make his escape with the time he had left. Coming to the bottom of the stairwell there was another hatch. Extending his lightning claw, Corwin delicately sheared off the locking mechanism on his side of the door, slowly swinging the door outwards.

 

Revealed to him was a massive cargo hold that he could tell doubled as a troop embarkation deck. Scattered everywhere was the detritus of war: crates of ammunition, primitive yet brutal weapons for close combat, and piles and piles of ranged weapons of all kinds. He quickly slid in through the door, moving with a grace and speed bestowed upon him by his gene-sire. He came to a rest in a dark corner of the embarkation deck behind a pile of metal plates and armor. It was clear from the trappings and size these were meant to be some form of armor, but they all took on fetish-like shapes of their heathen gods. Corwin felt a sense of revulsion just being near all of this crude "equipment", but the Chapter's needs and his will to further protect the loss of Imperial life drove him onwards. Peering out from behind the makeshift cover Corwin took stock of the occupants of the staging area. Given they were still a fair distance from the Imperial lines, Corwin had expected to find a large number of Orks at this level, but to his surprise this was not the case.

 

The hold was filled with a mix of hundreds of the smaller breed of Orks: Grots and their smaller cousins Snotlings. The Snotlings appeared to be working in teams, with each "team" being supervised by a handful of Grots. Watching them work disgusted Corwin, simply due to the utter absence of anything resembling humanity. The Grots and Snotlings busied themselves to moving material around the hold in a seemingly pointless pattern, simply moving what appeared to be a pile of trash from one side to the other for no apparent reason (at least not that Corwin could begin to comprehend). In the middle of the room however stood a hulking Ork by anyone's measure of the term. Most Orks known to Corwin stood close to 2 Meters in height, slightly shorter than himself, albeit stout of build and in possession of prodigious strength (coupled with feral stupidity). This Ork was substantially bigger than that however, standing at nearly 3 Meters tall. What really made the Ork interesting was not his size however, but his appearance. He was covered in crude metal, from plating at his skull all the way down to his absence of legs. Just below his torso, his legs had been replaced with a large tracked machine, armored and weaponized. Belching black smoke this augmetic lower half appeared to not only be his form of locomotion, but also a symbol of his power.

 

The Ork bellowed out orders to the Grots who in turn screeched and kicked at the Snotlings, spurring them to continual labor. It appeared to Corwin a very simple hierarchy here, survival of the fittest in its truest form manifested before him. Watching the Ork trundle about the deck barking orders intrigued Corwin. This creature truly was built to kill, but something about its movements and broken guttural speech was different. Over the decades of war that Corwin had served the Chapter, he had killed many greenskins, and had known them to be utterly brutal but ultimately incredibly stupid. This Ork was a different breed altogether. It appeared to him from his movements and orders that this Ork was planning something. The thought itself made Corwin feel uneasy.

 

Observing the hulking metal abomination, Corwin could hear Shadow Captain Korvydae’s condescending tone in his mind from when he was an Aspirant: “It is not enough to simply kill your enemy, you must understand him, so that your knowledge and skill can be put to effect to reap the maximum amount of damage possible with the minimal amount of force!”. He hoped Korvydae was still alive out there somewhere on this Emperor-forsaken world. It was apparent to Corwin this creature was a breed apart of its species. The absence of other Orks on this deck told Corwin that this Ork in particular was either shunned (or feared) by the rest of its species, and while he commanded this Stompa (that much was clear), he was not equal amongst his kind. It was almost as if this misbegotten creature was being punished for being more intelligent than its kin. Regardless, in order to complete his mission, Corwin knew he would need to dispatch this lumbering monstrosity to get to the open end of the deck where he could use his jump pack to evacuate the Stompa before the timer on his melta bombs expired.

 

Readying himself to fight this…thing, Corwin reached down to grab the remaining supply of his frag and krak grenades on his bandolier, laying it out so as to prep the remaining supply to go off at once to create an explosive concussion from which to begin his assault. After preparing the grenades, he engaged the power field on his fist, and extended his claws. With a snap-hiss, the energy field encasing his claws sprung to life, emitting a dull blue glow. Leaning down to grab his bandolier, Corwin heard a squeal nearby. Standing but a few meters from him, a tiny snotling – naught but 20 centimeters in height – was staring at him and his glowing weapons. Looking at the snotling, Corwin then slowly turned to look back into the hold. The large Ork’s tracked base slowly ground around to face his direction, right at the pile of debris that was sheltering Corwin. The Ork barked something unintelligible at this distance to the snotling, and the snotling responded with another short series of squeals. “Blood of the Primarch!” thought Corwin to himself, as the lumbering Ork began rolling his direction. Corwin quickly grabbed the bandolier, and stood up to his full height. Seeing him standing at his full height, the small snotling let out another terrified yelp, while at the same time the brutal Ork emitted a challenging bellow across the hold, accelerating towards him. Corwin lifted his leg, and his greave came crashing down on the snotling, pulverizing him into a paste. "Disgusting" he remarked to himself. He turned to regard the charging Ork.

 

No more subterfuge now, simply strength of arms and martial prowess would decide how this ends. Corwin felt a well of hatred spring forth from deep inside him: This thing had been party to, and more than likely responsible for the death of his brothers and fellow squad mates. He welcomed the hate, and let it fuel his strength and focus. He would kill every living thing on this deck before they see him gone. Not because the mission demands it, but because his honor does. Breaking into a pounding stride, Corwin lowered his right shoulder and helmed head down while accessing his flight controls for his pack. Just before hitting the ignition sequence for a hard burn, Corwin whispered to himself “Victorus Aut Mortis”.

 

Edit: I'm going to clean this up a bit, but I wanted to post it and think about a few adjustments for now. Edit 2: Adjustments made.

 

Suggestions for edits in yellow for you.  A great read there, just the original things didn't seem to fit IMO.

 

I'll let you finish the section you wanted to do, then I might add something more.

[Shadow Captain Vyper]

I can get behind the concussion suggestion for sure. While I am kinda partial to my in-canon profanity, it is fair to say a Marine is less likely to talk like that (and more likely a guardsman) so I can see that being more fitting for the narrative. Thanks for the input!

[Damo1701]

I can get behind the concussion suggestion for sure. While I am kinda partial to my in-canon profanity, it is fair to say a Marine is less likely to talk like that (and more likely a guardsman) so I can see that being more fitting for the narrative. Thanks for the input!

 

Not a problem mate.  

 

Also, I hate to be the fluff nazi, but "Feth" is the Tanith Tree God (LOL) so, geek alert here lol.  Feel free to come up with some other form of profanity, I mean the swear filter would have a field day if you look at how the Astartes use certain profane words in the Heresy series.

[Shadow Captain Vyper]

 

I can get behind the concussion suggestion for sure. While I am kinda partial to my in-canon profanity, it is fair to say a Marine is less likely to talk like that (and more likely a guardsman) so I can see that being more fitting for the narrative. Thanks for the input!

 

Not a problem mate.  

 

Also, I hate to be the fluff nazi, but "Feth" is the Tanith Tree God (LOL) so, geek alert here lol.  Feel free to come up with some other form of profanity, I mean the swear filter would have a field day if you look at how the Astartes use certain profane words in the Heresy series.

 

Realityburn and I were having this conversation in PMs earlier. I really did think that feth had moved out of the Tanith First and translated over to warhammer canon in general. I probably could have used Gakked, Frak, or Throne instead. Whoops!

[Machine God]

 

We are going to attempt a collaborative story. I tried something like this last year with the Chaos subforum with some success, and I hope the Raven Guard will step up to the plate and make Corax proud. So, here's the deal. The first poster will determine the character involved and where the story goes at the start. Each person will write one paragraph to advance the story. And... that's it. All you have to do is try not to double post (although posting every other reply in the thread is permitted). 

 

Should a full story play out, with a decent number of replies (let's say at least two pages), then the people who join in will be given a badge to display in their signature space, to prove their participation.

 

Setting the scene:

So, let us assume that you were part of the mission to Kastorel-Novem. Gargants, meks, stompas... the lot. It has not gone well. In fact, you are the last survivor of your squad. For the rest of the survivors of the task force to get off-world, you must intercept, disable and/or destroy a gargant. If you succeed, you must then attempt an extraction yourself. 

 

Just emphasis of the OP Olis' rules.

 

After placing the charges and setting the timers, Corwin moved through the doorway the greenskin had come through. He had a rudimentary understanding of how these machines were laid out, and he knew the lowest levels contained troop holds from which hordes of greenskins would come surging forth. Going through the hatch he could see a jagged set of stairs that descended down to the lowest levels of the Stompa. He began his descent, and at various irregular intervals, the stairwell would have offshoots where Corwin could hear the report of gunfire. Knowing the outside of the Stompa was festooned with gun nests manned by a few Orks each, Corwin could deduce that is where these side gantries lead. Knowing once the Stompa was disabled all of these Orks would be as good as dead, he choose to move silently past these gun nests to make his escape with the time he had left. Coming to the bottom of the stairwell there was another hatch. Extending his lightning claw, Corwin delicately sheared off the locking mechanism on his side of the door, slowly swinging the door outwards.

@itvyper - Nice 7 paragraphs there!

 

Did you get a bit carried away with the story momentum and so ignored Oli's the OP's rules? Easily done.

 

Bold addition to the first paragraph so that it reads better.

 

Edit: Clarity and an errant double space.

[Claws and Effect]

Eh, I applaud the effort.

 

The rest of us hsve slacked off on it.

[Damo1701]

Race, are you able to tidy thread please?

 

Perhaps shift non-story posts to the discussion topic?

[Damo1701]

As Corwin hit the door with his power Fist, at full speed, it crumpled like parchment, and the veteran marine screamed through the open portal. Arresting his momentum, Corwin looked around, and couldn't believe what he was seeing.