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Brother Captain Statius led the charge, kicking down the weakly defended doors. Cultists scrambled for their weapons, traitor marines opened fire with unholy bolters upon the crusading warrior. He was on them in an instant, his blade flashing and humming as it swirled over his head, bringing death to all it touched. He was like a farmer, harvesting wheat, his foes them enemy, his blade his reaper, sweeping them down in mighty arcs.
In didn’t last long. Before he knew it they were down to the last few. Statius chased one that backed up to a window. He gruesome marine held a powerful demonic blade, corrupted by the warp. Statius leapt at him, sword swinging powerfully. The dark marine countered quickly, the dark forces in his weapon preventing it from snapping like a twig. They held firm, neither giving an inch, blades locked.
Then quickly, Statius pushed ten times harder, his armour mechanisms whirring as reinforced his push with his incredible bulk. The chaos marine couldn’t stand up to it, and was pushed back through the window, falling from the mountain top keep. Statius had no question he would die.
The battle was over already, they had a new strategic position, the campaign was going well. The few defenders were no match for the might of the space marines.
A few of the newer marines approached Statius.
“Brother Captain. We do not wish to be rude, but we knew that your sword had once belonged to the previous chapter master, and we were wondering how it came into your possession?”
He looked at the younger marines. He remembered wanting to ask someone this same question once.
“You have fought well today. We have time for a story…”
+ + + + + + +
Raban VIII had once been a thriving industrial world. Much of the planet was covered in old urban citadels, some still made of light stone. Factories also dotted the landscape; many long pipes could be seen poking up through gaps in the cities. Occasionally there was a broad open space, mostly rocks, a few shrubs, many arid and dry. It produced many minerals and a lot of plascrete which it exported to nearby systems with its many large spaceports, mostly only home to large container freighters, a few small private ships from the companies that employed these metals, and fewer interplanetary transports. It was a perfect world to become the centre of massive businesses dealing in minerals, and massive production, thousands of jobs for the large populations that had settled there.
However one key factor prevented it from reaching to the industrial height that was possible for it. The other planets orbiting Raban’s star, were mostly ork worlds, and had been for centuries, since the scouting parties had arrived on Raban. The resident orks on these planets however, had not yet discovered space travel at the time of colonization, so were not able to pollute the still neutral worlds.
By the time the greenskins had developed the technology, Raban VIII was already well underway in its industrial evolution. Soon enough, cities were under attack from at first, only small bands of orks, but as time went on, it went from raiding parties into hordes and armies of the enemy. Military had not been a major worry for Raban’s government at that time, and so PDFs were hastily constructed, with little training and few weapons. Also, the fact that the planet was constantly rotating, but at a very slow rate, meant that the ground troops were constantly moving around the planet in order to deal with all angles of attack, and no chief defence base could be established. The planet was lucky to survive the first few years of attacks, but somehow it held through.
By now military defence was also a major part of the planets worries, and so as well as massive factories, the planet was dotted with regimental bases, their soldiers comprising of the more foolhardy residents from the local area. As well as that, numerous outposts mounted with anti-space ship guns and group to space missiles, in an attempt to deal with any invading orks before they landed.
Statias eyed one such outpost as the transporting thunderhawk, Atlas, cruised low over this particular city. The place was ravaged. Many old stone buildings, ravaged by countless attacks. Walls with chunks missing, revealing the floor. The remains of domestic living items, crushed under piles of plascrete and stone. The occasional decaying skull, the hulks of wrecked vehicles, blown apart during the fighting, discarded weapons that jammed in the middle of a fire fight, or simply dropped by deceased soldiers as the fell. Helmets, both imperial and orkish, some accompanied by skulls all jammed on spikes or motives commemorating victories and slaughters.
This town had been depopulated ages ago, and some orks still lived in the ruined buildings, probably with the remains of all but annihilated regiments of soldiers. Countless attacks had ravished the city beyond retaking for the moment, as the military forces were busy with other attacks. However once again, this area of the planet was due to be facing inwards to the system again, as per the schedule, and orks would land once this section of the world again. When arriving here however, they would find no enemy to kill, and set up a base in this area, and then use it as a base to receive reinforcements, and create land based attacks on the nearby cities. They would have their grip on the city at beyond choking point, and to regain it would be a long and hard campaign.
That was why Statis, and the other men from the Paladins of Satharos, 2nd chapter were on this planet.
Last edited by ginger; April 17th, 2007 at 03:03.
He listened to the whirr of the landing mechanism; the massive foot moved itself for touchdown on the airfield. He looked around. It was deserted, with ruins of buildings littering the ground from previous attacks. Traffic control towers, administrative buildings, mostly crumbling like the rest of the town. The skeleton of one plane could be seen, one wing bent to the ground, with scraps of sheeting metal decorating the frame. This would have been thriving a long time ago, with freighters, carrying all manner of exports and imports. But that would have been a long time ago.
Now the only intact vehicle there was Atlas, as the engines powered down, and the marines began to disembark. Only thirty men could make this mission. Plus a commander and lieutenant. Statias himself was only a standard soldier, one of the members of squad Bodact, under sergeant Lithius. Together with squad Pollitas, and Statgah, they made up the small force sent the surface of Raban VIII. Squad Pollitas were a veteran squad, having fought in the Eye of Terror Campaign. The members of the squad were made up of the survivors from a great assault the by 2nd company of the Paladins, and deserved their honours well.
“Squad Statgah, begin to unload all heavy weaponry and supplies. Squad Pollitas form a defensive perimeter. Squad Bodact, commence a sweep of the immediate area around the space port for 20 meters. Move men!”
Captain Bornak had been one of those survivors. Only a sergeant when he was sent to the campaign, it was the act of successfully leading only three marines on a mission that destroyed eight defilers that earned him his rank. He was a seasoned warrior, and tactical genius.
Rubble cracked under foot, as squad picked its way through the stone ruins of an urban ruin. Tiled floors, pipes, and massive footprints left in the dust by the hulking marines. The crushed debris would be an easy trail to follow. But any orks willing to try their luck against 30 marines with a strong grip on this spaceport would be worth taking care off. Boltguns swept from side to side, seeking targets.
The scream of a bolt from a gun, accompanied by that of an ork echoed suddenly throughout the ruins.
Boltguns quickly bristled in all directions, wary in case of further orks to come. Silence was prominent. The squad remained this way for around a minute. Focused, looking for some kind of movement, fingers poised on triggers to greet anymore greenskins with a hearty helping.
The tension was released, although this did not mean they let their guards down. Statias and sergeant Bodact inspected the body. It was a standard sized ork. A crude axe and cruder slugga lay next to it. Various teeth adorned its body, as well as a skull, not human, but one of its own.
“See here sergeant, this skull is orkish as well. What’s left of these beings have taken to fighting each other.”
“Less for us to kill while we search for our objective.”
“Yes sir, shall we continue the sweep?” Statius was friendly with the sergeant, but there was no real connection.
“Affirmative brother. Men, move out!”
Statius returned to picking his way through the ruins, his first glimpse of action on this planet quickly over, but he knew more would come.
+ + + + + + +
The rest of the sweep was uneventful, the only action being the encounter with the ork. Statius cleaned his bolter, and checked his pouches, watching Bodact report to Bornak. He would be describing the ork, the encounter, then he would describe the terrain, what he had seen, to every last detail. Bornak, as the captain should, would be processing this information, decided what weapons and tactics would work best.
He then eyed the weapons. Cases containing unassembled heavy weapons, bolter rounds, chainswords, tools for construction and repair, scanners, everything they could need to defend the relic.
“Gather round men!”
Briefing time. Bornak spoke loudly and with confidence to the men, a holo-map projected from the ground aiding his mission.
“We have been informed by command that the ork fleet has now moved into position above this region, and it is much larger than first informed. This means that as of now we are the only men standing between that relic and possible ork demolition of it.”
The map was currently showing ships moving about and intersecting, like a strategy game played by small children on their holo-games. Then it switched to a map of the city. Small icons flashed, indicating vital strategic points and their objectives.
“Now, you can all see this space port on the map,” Bornak continued, turning his attention to the holo-projector, “The relic is locating in a building here,” A small rune appeared and flashed on the map.
“This is where we are to make our way to. There we will set up a defensive formation, and guard the objective until the pickup thunderhawk can make it through. This thunderhawk will be taking an alternate rout in order to reach us, but it will require going right around to the other side of the planet to avoid the ork fleet, then flying around the planet to reach us. Our objective is to secure and defend the objective until they arrive.”
“As for terrain, squad Bodact has already had a look and are prepared, but the rest of you have only had limited views. The urban environment makes careful targeting with close range weapons the most essential part of this warfare, so all bolters and pistols, plus and additional heavy weapons that have the option to do so will be equipped with sniper scopes. Also make sure you are very wary to watch yourself everywhere. In these environments it makes it easy to sneak and for stealth, but although orks are generally very barbaric, some of their numbers have been known to master the art of stealth, so be on your guard.”
“We will be moving soon. I want squad Bodact to split and form a rear and front guard. Sergeant Bodact, you may divide your squad anyway you like. Squad Statgah will aid the servitors in carrying the supplies and weapons, whilst I will command squad Pollitas in a defence of the main body of the party. ”
Statius made his way over to the supplies, where he picked up his sniper scope. He fitted it to his bolter, Helm of Satharos. He flicked the activation switch and peered through. He zoomed in and out on a few objects to get a feeling for it, and was instantly accustomed to using the scope. That completed, he reported to his Lithius.
“Okay squad. After we are divided, I will be leading the forward party, and lieutenant Arcadane will be leading the rear defence.”
Statius glanced over at Arcadane. He was a young warrior. He had been sent on this mission to learn from Bornak. Statius knew he had the making of a great captain. The young man held a bolt pistol and power sword, the sword once belonging to the chapter master during his younger days.
Statius was assigned to the rear group with Arcadane. He only had four men to accompany him, but his rank made up for that.
“Prepare to move!”
Statius joined his squad at the rear of the column, as they began their slow exodus from the space port to the chapel.
+ + + + + + +
Statius pumped two more shells into an ork approaching him, waving its axe wildly. He quickly rolled to the side as the orks finger jammed itself into the trigger as it fell, sending a spray of bullets in a wide arc. He watched, as Arcadane was hit in the side. The warrior ignored it, busy as he was cleaving an ork in two.
He glanced to the source of ork attack. There were still many coming. He identified one of their leaders, a large ork, with a massive power claw, cleaving a way through his men, some of whom were backing away from the marine lieutenant, who’s glowing sword was carving huge arcs through the greenskins, , blood eagerly following in its wake. He had not seen the large ork coming towards him, swinging his power claw in anticipation of adding a marine helmet to the grotesque banner hanging on his back, which contained both skulls and decaying heads from various forms of life.
Statius quickly raised his bolter, peering through the sniper scope, his barrel of the gun following the ork. Kneeling down for solid traction, he unloaded three bolts from the gun.
They soared through the air, and the boss did not even see them as all three jammed themselves into the side of his skull, before detonating and sending the pulped bloody mess all over the other orks.
As he removed himself from the scope of the gun, he saw a few orks charging up the mound of rubble he stood on in order to attack him. Drawing his combat knife from his belt, he charged down the mound towards them, his long enhanced leaps taking him down the mound in only a few steps.
He slammed into the group sending them flying back down the mound, collapsing in a squirming heap at the bottom of the mound, his huge bulk even to much for that of the orks. More trampled their fellows, all eager to get at this marine.
Statius leapt off the mound, knocking off the orks who were now running up, and landed on the massive pile of greenskins at the bottom. He felt the squelch under his feet of the orks being crushed by his massive armoured feet. The lower parts of his legs were now soaked in the blood or greenskins. Crude, but devastatingly effective. He swiped one ork with his combat knife, slicing open its chest, guts pouring forth. He lashed out with his bolter, smashing an ork skull, bits of bone mingling with the brains. He continued, attempting to fight his way over to the lieutenant, who was still busy cutting a swathe through the orks, although his bolt pistol had been knocked from his hand, and his armour had massive grooves in places.
Suddenly, an ork slugga bolt exploded in his chest from point blank range, a sneaky arm finding its way through the carnage he had created. It sent him reeling backwards, and he slammed onto the ground. He could feel the concrete cracking beneath him.
Lifting his head, he saw an ork attempting to take advantage of his position, charging him, firing a slugga as he went. He a column of dust erupted in the ground next to Statius, a near miss for the charging ork.
As the ork was just about to slice Statius, a huge rusted meat cleaver raised above his head, ready to slice into his armour. Then, with the kind of strength and agility only a space marine could produce, Statius held his legs up in front of him, and the greenskin fell onto his feet. Then quickly, and with great power, he launched the ork over his head with amazing power, rolling backwards over his head and up onto his feet. The weight of the ork plus Statius’s strength sent the ork crashing straight through the wall of a nearby building, bricks crumbling and dust billowing everywhere.
By now the rest of the orks had been taken care of, and the small tide had ceased.
“Squad Arcardane, rally to me.”
The message came through the audios in his helmet from Arcardane. He began stomping swiftly through the carnage to his leader, a homing rune flashing on his visor, directing him to the leader.
They met up soon, but one short.
“Over here lieutenant!”
The call came from brother Josef, standing near a pile of dead orks. However, visible from the bottom of the mound was the helmet of the marine. The lights had gone from his eyes, and it seemed just like an empty shell from the soldier who was.
They cleared away the bodies. Brother Fetker lay there, his armour hacked apart in twenty places, massive flesh wounds. He was still holding his knife, which protruded from an orks stomach, his finger still jammed in the trigger guard of his bolter. He had died fighting, the way every marine should.
“Bring him with us. No marine should have the dishonour of being looked and toyed with by orks if we can help it.”
The other three nodded in solemn agreement. He would be cremated, his ashes sent to join his ashes sent to join his primarch, and the many warriors before him. No loyal servant of the Emperor would want to have their honour destroyed by marauding orks, their armour becoming fought over prizes, their heads becoming trophies adorning a warboss’s pole. Especially when he would not have killed him.
Statius and another marine from the squad carried the body between them, and they continued along the road. Josef was walking next to him, boltgun still watching for any stragglers.
“This relic had better be worth fighting for,” Statius said to him.
Josef looked at the body, regarding it with hate filled eyes, then murmured an agreement.
+ + + + + + +
A few hours later they reached the chapple, already occupied by the forward and middle parts of the party. The chapple was a picturesque site, even in its ruined state. The bottom was a long hall, filled with massive buttresses, linking arched columns. There were massive stained glass windows, depicting great battles against greenskins. The largest at the back, although much smashed, still showed the Emperor, sword in hand facing massive hordes of oncoming orks. The upper levels where not as glamorous, nor could he see as much. He guessed they would have been the priests living areas.
He was surprised the chapple still stood, as it had taken quite a beating during the fighting in this city. Massive chunks of the wall were missing, many columns broken. One corner had mostly crumpled, but that was. Other than that the chapple still stood.
However, he now turned his attention to the approaching captain and sergeant.
“You did well men. You fought bravely in the face of the foe. This should not have happened.”
Statius could see him looking at the body. The whole squad had gathered now. He had been a part of squad Bodact, but now he had gone.
“We shall remember him tonight.”
“Thank you sir. We shall make these greenskin pay for this.” It was Bodact who had said it, the same hate that had laced Josef’s eyes now on his.
Statius made his way over to the stores, and took extra clips for his bolter after those he had spent in the battle, then cleaned his knife of any reminders from that days fighting. After that he had one of the servitors run a manual systems check on his armour. He stood silently, waiting linked up with the half machine behind him, as it processed the data running through its mind.
“Sir, there are numerous small gashes in your armour. Shall I fix them for you?”
He spent the rest of the afternoon, still, watching the rest of the weapons being unpacked, grenades primed, communications set up, surveillance beacons and receptors assembled.. All the time the servitors expertly and methodically went about, repairing the cuts in his armour where orks blades had managed to push through. Yet as of yet he had seen no sign of the objective they had come to secure, and did not know of it status or location.
It had only take two hours to complete. As strolled back over to the proceedings, he saw the captain once again, holo-projector near his feet, with Arcardane next to him, ready to brief them on the current state of the fleet, and the next part of their mission.
+ + + + + + +
Warboss Grazz stomped into the command centre on his flagship, Meatcleaver, yelling orders at he pilots around him, watching hunched over the controls, pressing buttons and pulling levers at increased rates.
“Dis is takin’ far too long! Hurry up and land dis hunk o’ metal, and don’t damage ‘er!”
Orks frantically scrambled about, relaying information. Grazz watched out the front window, as the city came closer. He could here the boyz out the back yelling. They’d been on the ship for weeks, and were getting anxious for fighting. He had himself had had to crush a few riots. Why couldn’t they be patient like him. That was why he was the boss, and they were the boyz.
“Boss boss!” yelled a smallish ork as it ran towards him, “I done a scan of the area boss!”
The ork had a grin on his ugly face, his jaw curved into a huge crescent.
“Well? Get on wit’ it.” Grunted Grazz.
“Yes boss, I found a bunch o’ dem marine boyz. Deyz on the udder side o’ da city. Dere’s not many, we can goes crush ‘em!”
Grazz sudden felt a pang of delight, which was quickly crushed by the urge to slaughter the marines. He picked up the squirming ork who had made the report, and raised him above his head. He walked through the door, into the main hangar, where thousands of orks were waiting to get off the ship.
“’Ey you boyz. Dis ‘ere ork told me dat dere’s a bunch of dem marine boyz in da city. Lets geddem!”
The entire writhing green mass replied at once, the bellow of warship letting loose all of its cannons in one go.
Suddenly all of them jolted as the warship touched the ground at the spaceport.
The ork forgotten, Grazz carelessly launched him off the platform as he bounded down the stairs towards the slowly opening hangar doors, fighting his way through his own men in order to be first to the fighting.
The scanning ork flew over the edge, and was crumpled by the oncoming herd as they raced of the ship, lost to the stampede.
+ + + + + + +
Statius flicked the activation switch. It was primed and ready to go whenever the signal was sent. The angle, position and height of the mine ensured that the building it was attached to would fall in the correct direction. It was just another element for stopping the ork hordes, and buying as much time for them so that the thunderhawk could arrive. He knew there could not be much longer until the orks found them. Even aliens so crude had been known to utilise various technologies, and scanning was among them. A horde this big would be no exception.
His task complete, he checked his bolter once again, ensuring a fresh clip, and checking that he had more to come. This done, he reported to Bronak, who gave him a position from which he would attack. It was a building just across from the chapel, quite a high one. He was directed to a window, from which he would cover the immediate street below, and prevent any orks from entering the chapel, which is where squad Pollitas and Bornak were defending the objective. Hold out until the thunderhawk could get here. That was their mission. No retreat, defend at all costs.
But doubt had taken a firm seed in he back of his mind He had not seen this supposed relic at all yet, nor did he know what it was. He did not know what would be so holy, as to require the space marines to retrieve it.
Yet he knew better than to doubt his captain, that would be heresy. Bornak he knew would never lead them astray. But further questions only came from that. Did Bornak himself truly know what they were defending?
But time now was not for those thoughts.
“All troops prepared. Orks are now within range.”
“I have a visual sighting!”
“Brother Newzul, prime flamer, prepare to ignite.”
“Prepare for mine detonation”
Although the commlinks inside their helmets were now abuzz with reports and orders, he knew that the orks would still be unaware of all that was going on around them. The marines helmets shut out all noise that was leaving them, only making sure only those on the other end of the channel would here them. By now, the front of the enemies’ attack would be stepping in the oil. They would disregard it, and keep running. Slowly, more would be drawn into the attack. The marines were waiting.
Bornak’s voice came through the link again. It was early time.
“On my mark, detonate mines, and ignite oil.”
Statius saw around the corner, brother Newzul. He stood waiting, flamer pointing at the small trail of oil in front of him, that lead around the corner, and out into the main pool. Then Statius got his first glimpse of the orks they were fighting. Regular brutes, not really different from other he had seen, but there was a dominance in the colour yellow. These would simply be clan markings.
The oil trail suddenly burst into flames, the fire shooting along it like a rocket. Then it hit the major section where the orks were standing, and the whole thing seemed to burst into flames at once. The scream of orks echoed throughout the city, as the oncoming flames burned their flesh. The flames travelled throughout the tightly packed crowd of orks, none of them escaping the oncoming doom. Some ran away from the crowd, but it was to late, and those who managed to survive or miss it completely were silenced by the hidden bolters.
In short it was carnage, yet brutally effective. He listened to explosions coming from other places in the city. The mines that they had put in place had been detonated. Entire buildings would be falling on bottle necked sections of orks, crushing them, and preventing their reinforcements from behind them getting past as quickly and as easily. As the next wave scrambled of the rubble, they would be sitting ducks for the highly accurate bolters of the space marines stationed near those areas.
He spotted one ork, which had managed to escape the flame, and was charging towards the chapel. He carefully lined up his bolter, peering through the scope, which made such sniping easy work, and then fired off a bolt.
No need to waste precious ammo, he knew the bolt would hit its target, which it did, detonating inside the ork, exploding into a shower of guts and crude of clothing.
The traps were a success, the frontal ork attack was all but decimated, buying precious time for the space marines.
But playtime was over. Now would be the serious fighting. With the traps gone, they would be relying on strategic positions, bolters plus whatever other special weapons had been bought with them and each other. Communication would be essential in such an environment, watching out for each other, relaying information.
“Nice work men, now here comes the big time!”
Statius waited patiently, bolter poised, like a trapdoor spider, waiting for its prey to come into view, then to strike from its hidden position. He could here yells and bolter fire from further alleys. Then he saw them for himself. They poured over the charred remains of their comrades, guns firing at half glimpsed shadows in the window, axes swinging wildly in anticipation of any kind of killing. Some more wild swings managed to maim their fellows next to them.
But this was irrelevant to Statius. All that was going through his mind was picking target after target, slamming in a new clip every so often, slaughtering any that came. The corner of his eye allowed him a glimpse of the chapel, the upstairs windows alive with bolter fire. He could also see the familiar flare that only came from the nozzle of a heavy bolter. They had one positioned on a tri-pod up in the window.
Thousand of orks were struck down by bolter fire, but it was not enough. The hordes kept coming. The flagship alone had held thousands o the greenskins, and by now, other ships would have landed outside the city, and would be rushing in to join the attack.
“This is brother Waxen, our building has been outnumbered. We shall not go down without a fight. Bless the Emperor, and thankyou brother-captain Bornak.”
“Do what you must men. For the Emperor!”
This was the second such message that had come over the commlinks, and Statius knew it would not be the last. Only fifteen marines were left, including all but one of squad Pollitas. He guessed that soon they would be called to rally in the chapel. The remaining marines were all situated quite close to the building, so it would be ideal place to make the stand whilst waiting for the thunderhawk.
As if reading his mind, the message soon came over the link, as if it read his mind.
“All marines, rally to the chapel immediately!”
The command was given. Statius looked out the window in front of him looking down to the door of the building. Orks with heavy weapons were beginning to enter the building, seeing it as an excellent spot from which to shoot at the marines in the chapel. They had no idea that certain death was waiting for them. Another marine was also stationed a floor below Statius, so hey would easily fight their way down to the bottom, and across the street.
He bounded over to the stairs, once again, drawing his combat knife.
The next floor down, he looked around for the marine. He found him. Brother Josef’s armour had exploded in about thirty places. He had taken all of the ork fire that had been directed at the snipers in the building, and too many had made their way through.
Statius leant down next to him, and murmured in his ear, “You will not be forgotten brother!”
He was angry. This relic was costing so many valuable warriors, and yet he knew nothing of its importance. Once again, the seed of doubt gripped his brain, but he had to fight on. Grabbing some spare clips that lay next to the fallen warrior, he turned, to see the first of the orks coming up the stairs.
“For Josef!” he roared, as he charged towards the stairs.
He leapt in the air, and kicked out hard against the tightly packed orks. They were sent reeling down the stair, toppling over each other. One managed to land on its head, its back bending in unnatural ways.
He continued charging down the stairs, bolter vomiting bolt after bolt, each one taking a life. The feeling of ork guts surrounded his feet, as his huge feet once again crushing the orks who had fallen in this first assault.
He had now reached the bottom of the stairs, gutting a nearby ork with his knife. His current clip empty, and with no time to reload, he swung his bolter around in huge arcs, breaking all it touched.
Red warning runes flashed in his visor, as a huge force came crashing onto his right shoulder pad. He bent to the side a little under the force of the blow, but managed to keep himself. His pad now had a deep gorge in it. One more good hit to it and it might crack.
He turned to face his attacker, a large ork, wielding a huge axe. It swung again, but Statius leapt back, easily dodging the random attack. He then sprinted forward as the greenskin prepared to attack again, knife outstretched. He drove he knife deep into the ork’s massive gut, his hand mingling with the guts and blood, struggling to keep a good grip on the knife.
He wrenched it out, along with a fountain of blood that poured from the orks chest. The beast roared in pain. Statius knew that the wound would not finish it off, so he bought the bolter crashing down onto the orks head. He was rewarded by the sound of breaking bone, and the ork slumped to the floor.
He knew that the tide would keep coming, even as he killed them, and to fight his way out would be too risky and slow. He had already thought of a much simpler way. As he killed the surrounding orks, he scanned the wall, looking for the weakest point. Locating this, he dispatched a final ork with a swing of his blade, he began barrelling towards the spot he had chosen.
His arms swung around him, pushing any foes out of his path, heavy bounding steps sending him flying across the room at great speed, feet cracking the floor with each step. When he reached the wall, he leapt towards it, curling up somewhat into a ball.
What came next was mostly a blur, as he hit the wall, crashing straight through it like a cannonball. The remains of large stone bricks fell with him, crashing to the ground. He was still five floors up and was now falling to the ground. He spread out like a star to reduce his speed, and then landed with a squelch. Five ork bodies, two of which had been alive at the time of impact, cushioned his fall allowing a safer landing. A few runes flashed indicating any armour damage acquired during his escape.
As he stood up, a shower of dust fell down from the building, heralding his arrival like some sort of angel. He was, an angel of death.
Orks turned to attack him, but bolts from above struck them down.
“Nice escape brother Statius. We have you covered now, make you way into the chapel.”