Well, I had a bit of time. Heh, I still suck at posing contemptors, but it'll do till I get another one.
Cortus-Contemptor Akrodyne the Lost... and Bishop said the A2's were twitchy
The dull snaps of bolt fire echo from the thin concrete walls and bounce down the abandoned alleyway. Long dead shadows flash-burned into the stone stand eternal vigil over the piles of bone and mouldering scraps of cloth littering the narrow passageway. At the mouth of the alleyway a pair of burning ruby eyes peered into the gloom. Slowly, the shrouded giant gestures down the alleyway, an airy and utterly silent motion.
A whirring buzz of power armour was far harder to ignore, and half a score of warriors in verdigris plate slip by in a loping battle stride broke the illusion of silence. Bone and crumbled masonry turn to dust under the armoured tread of the legionnaires in their headlong rush down the cramped passageway. They hurry towards the yawning mouth of the ancillary road just beyond the derelict alleyway loading dock. It spilled onto the roadway, but was overlooked by the leering sockets of the ruined eight story hab-block across the strip. Most of the top half had crumbled back in on itself leaving a jagged line like broken teeth.
Distant thumps from airstrikes meld with the plodding whine of something further up the strip, and the sudden scrape of metal on stone. The momentary glint of adamantine winks from across the strip, there wasn't even the span of a breath to shout a warning. The thunderous roar of heavy mass reactive round blots out the ambient warzone, replacing it with the belch of fire and screaming howl of rounds skipping off rockrete as they ricochet and detonate in the narrow alley.
The lead legionnaire is struck by a veritable wave of shells from the unseen assailant, spattering molten adamantine and flecks of ceramite across the wall. More walked their way up his torso until it bites through the power cables and tears into his guts, dragging him down with a crack that burst the eye of his helm. He's shoved forward by the legionnaire behind him, in the narrow confines of the alley only a single astartes can pass with ease.
“Combat squad Absalom, requesting immediate close-in support!” Corporal Kanthrus snarls into the vox net, the ciphers having been broken well before any battle had begun.
A second astartes, Tanns Loromon, is struck high in the chest and stumbles.
'Copy that, Akrodyne alerted. Stand by.'
Trooper Gnoss drags him to his feet, bracing his own bolter against Loromon's shoulder and blazing at the mostly concealed gun team. Smaller Tigrus bolts trace zig-zag trail up into the stonework, pitting the spongy facade around the window or screeching just wide of the gun. Heavier bolts nearly twice its size thunder down like meteors, fragmenting rounds throwing monochromatic flashes in the gloom.
Vroken's lethargic cringe was almost palpable through the vox net. Bolters already chattered their insane choir as the combat squad falters; half streaming forward to get to grips with the machine-gun nest, the other half halting to fire and retreat back up the mouth of the alley. Shadows flit between the columns, more figures only half-glimpsed.
Rassik pulls the grenade from his harness as a round finds the soft flex-steel of his arm. From elbow down, the limb drops dead to the ground, grenade rolling from dead fingers. A sickly geyser of powdered bone and ceramite splinters throws Rassik, Gnoss, and Loromon into the wall.
The smoke and debris hangs thick in the air, Kanthrus' prey senses still show the heat bloom and estimated outline of their assailant as the heavy bolter continued to spew shots into the cramped confines. A sudden blob seemed to spasmodically weave back and forth behind the wall. With a blink click, Kanthrus crouches and presses himself against the wall as his armour dulls the thump of weapons discharge and scrape of boots. He narrows his eyes in concentration: ah, there it is. The sound is a low but building whine, a keening note and pounding grind of servoes. Automantic reactors could make a hell of a distinctive din. The tremor of a fifteen tonne monsters made it all the worst.
With a blaring roar, the rockrete wall five paces in front of him exploded outwards in torso sized chunks. Green illum lights stream through the gloom as a massive clawed fist pulls even more ruined stonework back through the massive breach. And for just a moment, the heavy bolter falls silent.
“WHERE ARE THEY!?”
The bellow churns the dust cloud into spiralling tendrils as an enormous upper body smashes into the gouge in the building, letting the skeletal face swing back and forth looking for all the world like a delusional giant. Legionnaires fall back behind the nearly slathering behemoth. Loromon and Gnoss drag Rassik away from the enormous foot that emerges from the rent.
Legionnaires can barely fit, but the enormous bulk of the contemptor can't hope to squeeze through the narrow aperture. It howls as heavy bolter shells ring off its carapace and patter off the eldretch blue energy shields, throwing dancing sparks in the miasma. Akrodyne raises a fist, a thrumming rumble building as the haze shimmers and contorts unnaturally. With a pulling gesture, the dust cloud bursts around the massive form as the front of the massive building sheers away in a shower of bricks and ruined piping.
Any further orders die in the corporal's throat as he watches the manic dreadnought with a growing air of bemusement. He quickly darts into its shadow to avoid the heavy bolter, all the while Akrodyne's claws grip a wall each, pulling its enormous bulk through the narrow alley and raking its way down the passage, leaving enormous bestial furrows as it squeezed its bulk through.
Vroken sighs, sidling up next to the corporal and edges forward behind the machine, “Square peg-”
“Round hole.” Kanthrus finishes. Why Akrodyne hadn't found another way around wasn't his business; staying out of the autotellurian's graviton induction field as the enraged Cortus-Contemptor literally made his own way forward, was.
Edited by Vykes, 11 January 2019 - 07:51 AM.