Ok, 'cause I was confused too. For what it's worth, you shot at the Hellhound.
M2 T1 Story Post
All units in “ruins” are on the ground floor. Currently, all objectives are controlled by the Ivalyans loyal to
The Will. If you "save picture as" the photos, you can save them to your computer, open them, and then zoom in on things, if you are having trouble seeing anything. I mean, if you aren't worried about viruses and other evil internet things.
The Hydra-Ivalyans took a beating this turn. Also, the dice gods felt that anyone armed with something more significant than a lasgun had to die this turn. Sergeants would mostly be dead, were it not for LOS rolls. In fact, every unit that took damage this turn would have lost their Sarge, otherwise.
Lieutennant Rodriguez looked out the left viewport, and gave a sour look to Colonel Macrophyllum's Chimera. He had a feeling that his commanding officer was keeping a closer eye on him of late. He didn't like that.
“Harrington, what are those
punta del pene doing? Kill those men running up to the access door.” Rodriguez waved his hand towards the sprinting Ivalyans with the strange markings.
Harrington didn't speak Rodriguez' language, but he caught the gist of what he wanted. He opened up the Multi-laser's controls, and began spraying las blasts into the advancing infantry. “Some down, sir. Disciplined buggers, they're returning fire” Harrington informed him. Most of the shots went wide, but one dinged off the front armour.
The rest of his squad popped up through the top access door, and opened fire, downing some more of the enemy with a couple well placed Plasma blasts. Rodriguez has managed to convince one of the Techies to lend him a pair of Plasma Rifles, in exchange for leaving some hack-packets on any data terminals he found. The Colonel's Chimera also opened fire into the infantry, and a couple of frag rounds arced out of their top hatch towards the targets as well.
Harrington reported the results. “Colonel Macrophyllum's unit has reduced the enemy to two poor bastards with lasguns, sir.”
Leave it to the Colonel, to show him up in front of his men. “Bring the weapons around again, I want...”
“INCOMING!” Harrington interrupted with a bellow. An explosion erupted in front of the Chimera. “Damnit, weapons offline, sir. Working on it.”
“Then run those
cabrons down! Get us out of the shell zone!” Rodriguez ordered.
A large slab of plascrete fell from the side of the bunker.
Sergeant Eduard lead his squad onto objective Bravo. He kept a nervous eye on the Hellhound driving towards their location. “Ivan, you must be working fastly, to
ouvre la porte. If we are not below the earth soonly, we shall be suffering the fire of death.”
“Yees, Sar!” Ivan replied. He tapped furiously at the dataslate, understanding how desperately they needed to get below ground.
Behind him, Sergeant Grimaldus' squad had bypassed the security door, but were encountering stiff resistance from an Infantry Squad that had been guarding the control room.
The Hellhound's turret came around, but Ivan hadn't finished yet. Eduard knew that Ivan was the squad's best chance to get through the door, but he was also pretty sure that Ivan wasn't going to get there in time. His squad was scything down the Hydra-marked infantry near the bunker, so he hoped they were distracted from what was coming for them.
As the first gout of flame burst out from the Hellhound, Eduard grabbed trooper Jacobs, whom was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Together, they formed a wall in front of Ivan as a sea of flame washed over them. Their bodies shielding Ivan from direct harm.
Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! Eduard screamed, as the burning prometheum consumed him.
* If you click the picture below, it should open in a new window, in the correct orientation. I have no idea why it is being displayed like this. About 1/15 pics I put on photobucket do that for some reason, when I link to them. *
Captain Harold observed the battlefield, and hoped that his reserves would arrive quickly. The Hydra Marine's reserves, anyhow. He knew that his Storm Troopers were a ways off yet.
Lieutenant Kyle's vox signal had gone silent, which bode ill for the efforts to take the Southern bunker. Why the infantry had run forward into such overwhelming firepower was beyond him. He assumed that the Lieutenant had hoped to use them as a distraction, while he gained control of the bunker. Perhaps he'd thought that the low walls around the access door would limit their casualties? Harold reflected that the traitors had likely saved him the trouble of executing Kyle for incompetence.
To the East, the heavy infantry had successfully gained access to the control room below the ruins, and had seen off the workers protecting it following a volley of shots and a one-sided melee. They had to kill each and every one of the Zealot's men, but they'd done so with remarkable efficiency. The loss of the energy weapons would cost them dearly, but the control room was open and gaining control of the console inside would be short work.
“Lionel, I want the Southern Chimera destroyed. Aim a bit high, I don't want you hitting the wall instead.” The weapon team fired, but the shot was low, and after burning through the wall, the beam didn't have enough penetrating power to make it through the Chimera's hull. Harold turned slowly towards the team, and glowered at them. To their credit, they didn't notice. They were busy reloading the energy cell.
To the North, things were going absolutely terribly. The infantry on foot had succeeded in opening the door, but had taken a surprising amount of casualties from the blasts directed at the nearby vehicles, and the now smouldering infantry in the central ruins. They'd been chased down by some workers, and it looked like their giant of an Overseer would kill the last of them with a pipe wrench. How could such well trained soldiers be routed by brutes that didn't even have proper weapons?
Captain Harold shook his head. He held out his hand for the Vox unit, and broadcast over the open channel. “Basilisk. Next shot, aim 5 degrees north, 50 feet less.” He hoped that would discourage the Chimerae from advancing, which might give the exposed infantry a chance to fall back and try to claim the bunker from whatever had slain Kyle's command squad. With any luck, they'd killed each other with a grenade or something, and the two men still standing could just walk in.He was bloodied, and hurt, but he'd survived. His will was strong, and so he'd survived. He wasn't sure what to call himself. His old name would have no meaning now, but none of The Chosen were nearby to name him for his accomplishment.
Strange, but just another challenge he would overcome. A smile crossed his lips. Perhaps he would no longer need a name. Perhaps he'd overcome that frailty as well? The Will worked in mysterious ways.
Struggling, he moved to the com unit, and broadcast for all to hear. “I hold the controls in the Southern Bunker, in the name of The Zealot. Your meagre efforts have failed. You are blind to the fate you've condemned yourselves to. The fate of your masters shall be your own. None shall move me, for I have decided my course, it is my will!”
He released the control and slumped down to rest. Just for a moment...