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Ok so I made some small revisions and added the three parts together. Tell me what you guys think.
"3C this is 3A, do you copy. 3C this is 3A, we need support in the temple district. 3C do you copy," the man handed the handset back to vox-trooper Dyllon and spat. "We are in this by ourselves boys, can't get a link to Leutienant Syrell, so we won't be having any reinforcements. Troopers Ryas and Lyonell move forward to the front archway and secure for our advance, put that cannon to some good use. Darryk and Seyvek cover the rear entrance with that flamer, torch anything that ain't guard. The rest of you come with me. The Emperor Protects," Sergeant Fyrdryke ordered his squad. The troopers each ran their seperate ways.
"Need a fresh drum now Ryas." The young trooper nodded and fished a drum magazine out of his kit, and handed it to gunner Lyonell. Ryas dropped down behind and overturned table, "Seven contacts in the northeast corner." Lyonell hefted the massive autocannon and searched. Across the wide plaza he scanned, sweeping across building fronts and windows. Movement of a purple uniform caught his eye behind and overturned wagon. "Though you could hide you stupid little .." the words suddenly drowned by the piercing rumble of the cannon barking to life. The cart splinted and bucked as the solid rounds tore through it. Five figure clad in purple robes with a flame motif around the base darted out from behind the cart, headed for the cover behind the central fountain, showering the two Aryians in las rounds as they ran. Lyonell swung the cannon up and three more of the figure tumbled, cut to shreds by the withering hail of fire. Ryas leaned around a pillar and fire a single shot, dropping a figure that had emerged from behind the cart with a missle launcher. As the man spasmed the weapon fired, sending the missle into the front of the temple, directly over the two Aryians. A large chunk of rock fell from the ceiling, crashing into Lyonells head, nocking him unconcious. "Sarge, we have contact and Lyonells down. Looks like a forward recon, there will probably be several more" Ryas barked into his micro-bead. Ryas thought back to his days in the gang back on Ayria. The fighting in the dense hive structure had taught him and all the other Ayrians how to use the walls and streets to their advantage, making them lethal city fighters.
"Affirmative, I'm sending Pyrek to take over the cannon, keep them held back till he gets there," came the reply. Ryas clicked his lasgun to full-auto and sprayed across the fountain. The figures are behind good cover now, I'll just have to wait them out, he thought to himself. Trooper Pyrek jogged up and grabbed the autocannon from Lyonells limp form. 'Where are the buggers at," he asked as he hefted the cannon up with a grunt. "Behind that fountain, covered really well. Well have to wait em out." Moments latter two rolled out of the sides and the last over the top, showering their position with las rounds. Ryas loosed a lasbolt that blew a scorched hole in the middle figures robe, sending him thrashing into the pool of the fountain. Pyrek swept the cannon across the fountain, peppering the other two with bullets. The left one took a shell to the throat, and the right one was hit in the shoulder and rolled back, wimpering. Chips of stone exploded off the face of the fountain and the water sprayed in the air as the stray bullets hit the fountain. It ran red with blood now, from the figure Ryas had dropped into the pool. A grenade suddenly exploded on the temple steps, and sent the two Ayrians flying back into the corridor of the temple. Smoke and rock shards filled the air. Ryas scrambled to his feet and back to his cover. He made out three purple apcs, with the same flame motif as the figures robes, rolling into the plaza from the eastern road. The tanks screached to a halt, turrets panning towards the temple, heavy bolters cackling to life, showering the front of the temple with solid rounds. Pyrek joined Aras, hefting the cannon up to aim against the lead chimera.
The rear hatches of the tranports slammed open, and purple robed figures disgourged into the plaza. Las rounds blew scortched divvits in the stone front of the ancient temple. The autocannon raked the first chimera, punturing the lower section of its armor. Promethium began to spurt out onto the ground, pouring under the feet of some of the figures, a large pool under the chimera. Ryas noticed and sent a las-bolt into the puddle, igniting it. A deafining blast and a fireball engulfed twelve of the purple robed assailants, throwing their scorched corpes across the plaza. The chimera rolled into the side of one of the other transports, settling against its right side. As the two collided the wounded tanks fuel bay detonated, shredding the hull and destroying the turret and right side track of the other.
A las round caught Ryas in the hip, sending him to the ground screaming. Pyrek raked across the figures scrambling through the billowing black smoke. Several died in the withering hail of bullets, corpses flopping to the fuel scorched street. A shotgun cracked and Pyreks head turned to a mist of gore as the pellets found their mark. His headless corpse tumbled over the barricade, taking the cannon with it. Ryas grimmaced as he heard bayonets being snapping onto thier lugs, preparing for a head on assault of the temple. "The Emperor expects," murmered Ryas as he struggled up, sending a shower of las-rounds into the massed figures. Two buckled from multiple wounds, blood spurting onto the nearby figures. One answered with a shot that severed Ryas's left hand, rendering his rifle useless. Dropping back behind the barricade he wrenched his combat knife out of its scabbard, holding it with his good hand. Just as he prepared for the oncoming wave of bayonets he heard the unmistakable bark of a longlas hotshot, followed by a fullisade of more hotshots. Leaning out he was able to see nine of the purple robed heretics fall to the earth with massive holes in their heads and chest. Another salvo streaked off of the western rooftops, slaughtering seven more. Less than a dozen remain, turning to flee back into the remaining chimera. Four dropped in a third salvo, and one hotshot blew through the drivers viewlense, rendering the machine inoperable. A last round of longlas fire issued leaving only one purple robed figure paniked next to the armored transport. He turned to run but fell dead as Ryas hurled his knife, burying the blade into the back of his neck. "Nice of you to show up Lt.," Ryas moaned into his micro-bead as he collapsed of blood loss. His eyes glassed over and the world went black.....
A dozen of the purple robed figures darted across the alley behind the great temple, jumping from cover to cover. A flame motif decorated the lower hem of the puple silk, seeming to lick like a real flame as the ran. "Sarge, we have contact in the rear alley," wisphered Syvek into his microbead. "Copy that, Im sending Syrys and Cyrk over to assist, Ryas has contact out front. I think the bastards are gonna try and take the temple." Syvek turned to face flame Trooper Darryk, a smirk curling the corner of his pale lips upwards. "You remember the orders dont you Tye, " he said as he slammed a fresh cell into his lasrifle. "They dont look like guard to me," Darryk relpied with a quick grin. He drew deeply on the lho-stick in the corner of his mouth, thin trails of smoke issuing from his nostrils as he swung out into the doorway, pilot light burning bright blue on the end of the flamer.
"For the emperor," he screamed as he sent a stream of flaming promethium down the alley. Crates burst into flames and a barrel on the left side apparently had something flammable in it. It ruptured, sending shrapnel across the alley. One sliver of steel found its way into Darryks left bicep, but he didnt seem to notice. Continuing the flame torrent he stepped clear of the door and behind a crate. Syvek came through the door sending a burst of gleaming las-rounds through the early morning air. One caught one of the figures in the left arm and spun him. Falling the robed man fired his old autogun at Syvek, one round hit near his head. "Youll have to do better than that you Servents of the Scum Flame." A hustling sound from within the temple signalled Syrys and Cyrks arrival.The two emerged from the doorway, simultanious saying, "What'd we miss." Syrys hefted his lascarbine up and smirked, "Good theres some left for us. Two of the Servents tried to dart back across the alley but where caught with the gout of flame Darryk was throwing down the alley. Their silk robed became wreather in real flame, as they crumbled to the ground screaming. The inferno raged within the alley, making it hard to breath. The four Ayrians fired their weapons through the inferno, at the panicked figures in unision. They gave testament to the well oiled machine that is the Ayrian 4rth Infantry. Hive people raised into a regiment, specialized in urban warfare, the 4rth was at home within this temple complex.
On the other side of the inferno the "scum" readied for a last stand. The Ayrians didnt know much about them except that they are soldiers in the employ of High Sorcerer Dercius. They called themselves the "Servants of the Changing Flame," followers of an evil god of the warp. As the figures dashed up towards the inferno, three of them fell from the hail of automatic las-fire coming from the Ayrians. The leader of the servants, a foul looking creature carrying a trench pattern shotgun fired a load through the flames. The pellets impacted Darryks promethium tanks, starting a catastrophic chain. The liquid-gel spewed out and over the others around him, and drenched his fatigues. Darryk tried to turn to see what was running down his back, and as he saw the promethium puddling on the groun beneath him he grimmaced, "ohhh ssshhhhh...." the pilot of the flamer swept by the ground and ignited the puddle, and engulfed the troopers position. They screamed as the burned to death, charred corpses dropping into the base of the torrents. The flames licked at the other tank and it exploded, the concussion knocking the advancing servants to the cobbled street.
"What was that," Sergeant Fyrdrke questioned as he heard the explosion. "Darryk, come in... Darryk do you read me. Syvek what your situation. Syvek. Syrys, do you copy......Cyrk...." he trailed off as he saw purple robes round the corner of the next building.
Sweat dripped from his face as he ran towards the raging inferno that had engulfed the rear alleyway. The blistering heat reminded him of his days working in the foundry deep inside Ayria Prime, his home hivecity. He reached the rear doorway, cracked and blistered from the immense heat that was burning away at the alley. Panting he turned, "Make ready boys, theres something still out there." The two troopers behind, Wylan and Allyn, stopped and replied, "Yes sir, sarge." They slammed fresh cells into thier lasrifles and sergeant Fyrdryke fixed his blade to the bayonet lug of his own rifle. "On three boy,....one.....two....three."
The flames in the alley had recceded to a crackling emberbed or burnt crates and charred flesh. As the team rounded the corner of the doorway, trooper Wylan tripped over the remains of one of the fallen Ayrians. He clattered across the smoldering ground, singeing his face on the hot stones of the street. Sergeant Fyrdryke caught a glimpse of eight or so purple robes rounding a corner, moving onto another alley section. He sprinted down the smoldering pavers and skidded to a halt when he reached the corner. He could hear voices speaking around the corner in a language he didn't understand. The sound of the two troopers coming came to his ears as he pivoted around the corner of the intersection.
"For Ayria and the Throne," he screamed as he dashed at the servants. They had their backs to him when he rounded the corner but where beginning to turn to face the assailant that approached. The sergeant opened up on the purple robed fiends as he closed on them. Two lasrounds tore into the torso of one of the servants sending him over onto his back, coughing and chokeing on blood. Another lasround found its way into the next ones right eye, toppling him over stone dead. Wylan and Allyn rounded the corner as the figures in purple answered with fire of thier own. A solid round burryed itself into Allyns left thigh and anoth into his right hip. He fell to the ground screaming in pain. Another round grazed Wylans left cheek, letting a torent of blood issue from the scratch, but he continued on shooting. Fyrdryke reached the first of the fiends, driving his bayonet home into the robe of the man with a satisfying crunch. He kicked the figure off his bayonet, a spurt of blood hitting him in the chest. He spun and planted the butt of his rifle into the temple of another, knocking him unconcious on his face. One of the figures lunged at the sergeant with a vile looking blade, but it was parryied with ease. Returning the attack, Fyrdryke plunged the bayonet into the throat of his attacked, and as the man flailed he fired two point blank lasround into the dying mans face. Blood coated him from the waste up. A round caught the sergeant in the left knee, dropping him to the ground. As he fell Wylan fired full auto from the hip, dropping two of the las three figures. The last servant fired a round from a shotgun, tearing Wylans torso to shreds. He fell backwards, blood shooting out of the numerous holes in his chest. Sergeant Fyrdryke fired his last round into the face of the figure, as he brought the shotgun to bear against him. In his final spasm the servants finger clinched, blowing the sarges left arm off at the elbow. His vision swirled, and the world went black.
Stay tuned for more from the Ayrian 4rth Infantry
Not bad.. I do think you're improving with the style thing.
Remember though.. Narratives need to go somewhere. This would probably be the point where you want to introduce some big old plot device to advance the story.
Damnit.. got me listening to Ayria now.