40K RPG Imperial Side: Act 1

[Drakdylon]

An hour? Drakdylon wondered. I can hear cannonfire already, in the distance. Of course, he did say "an hour at most". So maybe our 'hour' is up...

Drakdylon rose from his position near the front-line sandbags. The bags had been arranged in a very basic trapezoidal shape around the station, with the back side of the defenses being the sea-coast. On the ocean-side of the power-station, massive steel tunnel-pipes, bearing complex conduit wiring, ran out to the extensive banks of sea-turbines located in the deeper water of the planet's main ocean current. Those turbines provided nearly half of the world's power.

The other half came from the reactors within the station itself. Buried deep below the ground inside the main station-complex, the three massive plasma reactors put out an immense amount of power. And that power was crucial to maintaining the defenses of the main city. If this reactor station fell, the Imperial forces on this world would be as good as dead.

So why hadn't they assigned more troops to this station? A small group of Space Marines and half a company of Imperial Guardsmen, plus a few more independent fighters, like Drakdylon himself and the strange sniper with the Inquisitorial badges. That didn't seem enough to hold an army of heretics.

Drakdylon wondered then why he had seen no weapons emplacements set up around the front trenches yet. The slightly better-reinforced defense-platform surrounding the main station complex had several heavy-weapons teams stationed on it, but so far no heavy bolters or autocannons had been assigned to the sandbag line.

Drakdylon desired for that to change. Walking swiftly along the trench-lines, he went in search of the Imperial Fist Captain. Perhaps the man knew if this installation had a weapons store of some sort? In Drakdylon's experience, an autocannon was always superior to a humble bolter when one desired to pulverize some heretics from a safe distance.

[KaKlick]

Vycktor nodded.

"Of course. I'll move out to the front trenches and see what I can do for morale."

Stell left the bunker and headed up towards the front lines. Men moved out of his way along his path, but the commissar didn't notice. He was fixated on his duty and knew that the weapons rattling in the distance did not bode well. As he got closer to the trenches, he noticed stray rounds peppering the trench lip facing the enemy positions and resolved to walk half crouched. There wasn't much a dead commissar could do, he resolved.

[Arctophylax Faren]

"The Emperor guide you." Lieutenant Yukoll said to marksman as he turned to leave, allowing him a moment with the commissar. He gave a quick salute to Strell, and added "And you, Commissar. I hope I see you again when this is done."

Now the real work would begin in earnest. With a tap of his commbead, he opened a channel to his command squad.
"Alright, the sky's going to get a lot brighter soon. Rendezvous at the bunker, on the double."
There was a staccato of replies from the four men in his team, after which he switched to the battlenet.
"Sergeants, report to the command bunker." he ordered, and was rewarded with a hail of confirmations from his platoon's sergeants. With haste, he began to trot back to the bunker, but bootsteps to his left made him turn towards the source. Kesston, his medic, was hurrying towards him, clutching a collection of medical packets and boxes, and his webbing was crammed with similia paraphernalia.

"Sir." he said with a grin, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Grabbed what I could from the last shipment as soon as I heard the guns going of in the city. Figured that we'd be seeing some action soon ourselves. Can't afford to be runnin back and forth to the depot, y'know?"
Yukoll couldn't help but smile. Kesston had been with him on countless battlefields. He was an orderly in training when he had first met him, after being injured at the hands of Orks on Filgirn Alpha. That was over a decade ago. Time flies in the Emperor's service. Or at least, it does during warp travel.
"Seen Brex?" asked Yukoll as the strode together. The medic shook his head.
"Nah."
"Well for all our sake's I hope he got the Chimaera running. Emperor knows we'll need it." The command tank had suffered a blown tread on the way to the station when rocks churned up by the heavier Russes had been wedged in the wheels.

Up ahead was the bunker, and standing outside the entryway were three figures in the same grey fatigues and flak armour as Yukoll. One carried heavy vox equipment, and his face hidden behind a large box grille. Despite that, the look of worry in his face was as obvious an Ork in a ballet dress. Another was lugging the bulk of a heavy flamer, and the third had the butt of his meltagun resting on the ground. From the direction of the front line was a small gaggle of troops, their pauldron chevrons marking them out as the sergeants, bounding over to report.

Before Yukoll could speak to his squad, the vox operator cut in, his voice dull and artificial through the grille at his face.
"The city's under attack." he stated urgently, but it was obvious. The gunfire could be heard from their position. Though, the operation wasn't finished yet. "We received a burst transmission from the enemy. They're flooding channels, and communication is interrupted. Blaspheme and heresy." his voice was venomous. Yukoll had chosen his command squad for their faith and loyalty, and he could see the operator's grip tightening murderously on his weapon.
"Aye." replied Yukoll with a sympathetic nod. "We're moving to the front to meet their assault. The brother captain informed me we don't have much time, so we'd best look sharp. Soon be looking at the wrong end of a lot of weapnry, so let's make sure we pay it back in kind."
The voxman relaxed a little at the prospect of vengeance, and settled in the lineup. Yukoll turned next to his sergeants, who listened to the exchange with stone faces and a disciplined stance.

"Sergeants. I don't have to tell you the importance of what we do here. You have my confidence that you'll do your duty today, and the Emperor will be proud. It's looking grim, so be liberal. Blow those worthless creatures back to the warp. We've a new commissar with us, fresh from command, so be on your toes. Didn't get a chance to scope him out much. Sergeant Gretton, take your squad and join him. If anyone can keep him happy, I'm sure it'll be you and your boys. Dismissed."
With that, the group exhchanged salutes and began to disperse.
"Alright chaps, we're moving out." Yukoll said to his squad, and they formed up neatly in an oval before moving towards the front line.

Sergeant Gretton ran his hands over his cropped black hair, a preparation ritual of his, and tapped his commbead.
"Squad on me." he grunted, jogging towards where he'd left his squad last. To his right he caught the dark figure of Strell picking his way towards the front, but decided against calling out to him. Distractions could be fatal sometimes.
Once his squad had formed up, he motioned at them to follow, and the group wordlessly approached the Commissar. When they were near, Gretton made his presence known.
"Commissar." he said respectfully, his throaty voice audible above the din. "The Lieutenant said to keep you company."

[KaKlick]

Vycktor Stell finally made it to the foremost trenchworks as mortar rounds began falling amongst the Imperial lines, nodding at the Sgt. who greeted him. He risked a look over the parapet and did not like what he saw. A sea of cultists and heretics moving steadily towards him, lasbolts and heavy weapons strobing in the dawn gloom. He ducked back down and used his Commissariat Override to scan the vox traffic, attempting to gauge the Imperial morale at the power station. It didn't sound good. These troopers were veterans, true, but even these men sounded somewhat panicky given the odds and chances of survival against them. Stell took a deep breath and keyed his comm to begin his duty as an Imperial Commissar.

"Men of the Imperium!" he began. "This is Commissar Vycktor Stell. You were tasked with the defense of this power station. The station provides power to the massive defenses protecting the capital city nearby. Should we fail, those guns will fall silent. Should we fail, the city will be overrun. Should we fail, the Imperium will falter and die here on this planet! Yet, I do not worry. For I know that each one of you will prevail. I know that each one of you will give everything to protect this facility against the insidious touch of Chaos and its minions. I know that I stand amongst undefeatable Heroes of the Imperium! Let the enemy come at us! We will prevail! Let them throw their mightiest warriors against our walls! We shall prevail! Let them call upon their Dark Gods! We shall trust in the Emporer and smite them down in their arrogance! Men of the Imperium! Not one step back!"

((OOC: Sorry for the short post and if it sounds distracted. I'm trying to work myself up to drive to school again :o))

[Ziggy Tempest]

Arla almost smiled as a third cultist died with his skull emtpied across the wall behind him. An empty casing flew from the side of the rifle as to prepared to aim the next shot. Something distracted him though, something much more than a mere cultist. The insidious silhouette of degraded Power Armour was hard to mistake for something else. Arla almost loaded an armour piercing round before realising the Corrupted Astartes had foregone wearing a helmet. "Ameteur mistake," he whispered to himself as he adjusted his aim for the long range and increasingly hostile conditions. If the wind picked up anymore then he'd have to really start putting effort into the shots.
After a few moments of intense concentration Arla pulled the trigger and let the bullet fly, at that exact moment the heavens erupted into thunder and lightning, throwing his aim off slightly. Suddenly being atop a tall comm array seemed like a bad idea. Arla didn't have time to see the Marine's fate, iinsteaad he opened his comm while trying to find shelter, "The Rain is making my work difficult but I have news to report. The enemy aren't just a mass of cultists, traitor marines are with them too.. It seems they truly understand the importance of this location," he spat through the micro-bead.

[warpvortex]

Lister, stationed at the last defence line on high ground could see cultist alike storming the front line. However he was unable to get a clear shot out. His eyes then spot a chaos marine with no helm moving forth behind the cultist and smiled.
Finally I get to shoot something!
He takes the heavy bolter of safety, aims and gets ready to fire. Although just as Lister was about to pull the trigger, a bullet hits the marine in the head and he falls. Lister grumbles and puts the heavy bolter back on safety.
Damn it
"Lt Yukoll Sir, may I make a tactical advancement towards the front line so that, I may aid by offers some suppressive fire? Or would you prefer me to hold my position here?


((Erm anyone want my character to be in a persific sqaud??))

[KaKlick]

Stell cut his comm and let out the breath he'd been holding. He'd never really been good at inspirational speaches and therefore prefered actions to words, but it seems he just couldn't avoid giving verbal motivation as a commissar. He drew his autopistol and chainsword before stepping up on the firing platform and boldly glaring at the enemy troops. It was a foolish stunt and one that could easily get him killed, but he figured that if it worked, it would solidify his authority with the guardsmen around him and boost morale. If it didn't, well, he wouldn't be around to care anyway. The heretics were too far away for his pistol to be effective at all, but he kept it trained on the cultists while his eyes scanned their ranks for any sort of leadership. Suddenly, his heart jumped up to his throat. Amongst the seething mass of unwashed bodies and sickening runes, a massive form lumbered into view. He spotted an eight-pointed star etched onto one huge pauldron as the Traitor Marine spotted the Junior Commissar. He watched as the tainted Astartes leveled its bolter and, for a moment, Stell swore he could see the actual shell inside the barrel before a high powered round took the thing's head off. Stell breathed in silent relief before noticing that while he'd been distracted by the Chaos marine, a group of cultists had taken advantage of the lull and charged forward. Vycktor levelled his pistol and placed a round through the head of the lead man while hefting his chainsword with his other hand.

"Men of the Imperium! No quarter!"

[Drakdylon]

As he ran, Drakdylon heard the sounds of gunfire drawing closer and closer. Too close.

The scout's suspicions were confirmed as a mortar-round impacted close by. The blast threw him off his feet and rained dirt and particles of concrete upon his head. They had mortars?

But of course they have mortars. They're Iron Warriors, after all... Wonderful. This complicates things a great deal.

Hauling himself to his feet, Drakdylon continued towards the central command bunker. If Electus was to be found anywhere, he would be found there. Or so the scout hoped. As he ran, Dradylon saw and felt the first drops of rain falling from the sky.

Weaving around and through the groups of soldiers making their way towards the frontlines, Drakdylon reached the main defense-platform. Dashing up the metal rampway onto the steel bulwark, the scout made for the bunker only a short distance away. It was just in front of the main entry into the powerstation complex.

As the scout approached the bunker doorway, he saw that the guard lieutenant had just finished dispatching the last of his squads to the front. Even as Drakylon approached, it appeared that the lieutenant and his command squad were preparing to leave for the defensive trenches. The scout decided to give up his search for Electus. Perhaps the lieutenant would know what was going on. Drakdylon resolved to join the command squad. Their combined firepower might perhaps make a hole in the enemy assault.

Going up to the officer, Drakdylon announced his presence with a cough and a simple "Sir, if I might interrupt..."

[Arctophylax Faren]

The sounds of battle escalated at an alarming rate, and Yukoll had a less than pleasant feeling about their situation. As if to emphasise the gloom, the heavens slowly opened and rain pattered to the ground. A should from nearby caused his attention to turn to the source, and he spotted a rather disappointed looking guardsman.
"Trooper!" Yukoll called out above the din to the man he had met earlier, wielding the heavy bolter. "Find the commissar and join him. Their squad could use the firepower!"
His first battle order of the engagement. Now it was time to get up front himself. A commchatter buzzed in his ear, and he pressed the bead tightly against his head to make out the words. It was the Inquisitorial Agent, and the rain was causing grief. Worse news was the presence of the most obscene traitors to mankind - fallen marines. Yukoll could feel his guts tighten in revulsion, but at least he would get an opportunity to mete out the punishment that awaited all traitors.
"See if you can't pick off anyone that looks important. Focus on those marines." he replied to Arla, hoping for the best. With a renewed vigour, he furrowed his brow as he looked left to right, deciding on which direction to lead his troops in, and was interrupted before he made that choice.

The man, or more accurately, warrior, was taller than the Lieutenant and donned orange marine scout armour. He was sure that they had not previously met. Though not as intimidating as a fully power armoured Astartes, the scout nevertheless appeared formiddable, and his bolter was about same size as the Lieutenant's torso. He wasn't entirely sure what the marine wanted, but battle was battle, and they both had the Emperor's work to do.
"Brother marine." Yukoll said, inclining his cap respectfully. As if gearing up for the soon to be joined skirmish, Yukoll pulled his laspistol from his holster, and spared a glance to the rest of his men. "We were just about to dispense the Emperor's judgement upon the foe. What say you join us?"


Beside the Commissar, the ever faithful Sergeant Gretton was busying himself spraying a hot death towards the oncoming enemy. His laspistol flared repeatedly in his hands, each shot attempting to scorch the flesh of anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves on the wrong side of the Emperor. The Commissar seemed, so far, as any other loyal servant. Devoted, and unwavering in the face of danger. His stunt on the lip of the trench had been reassuring to his troops, he could see it in their faces. He'd served with his current squad for nigh on eighteen months now, and he knew them better than they knew themselves.
He'd thought they were in trouble when the marine had appeared. At least until his head left his body. It was an amusing sight to Gretton - he'd seen it all, and heads popping like groj melons always forced a sardonic smile upon his lips. As long it was an enemy groj melon.
"Commissar sir..." he began, snapping off shots at the surging foe between his words. "I'd advise against attracting too much attention. If there's one thing I've learned..." The sergeant's fingers squeezed the trigger of his laspistol, sending a bolt of light through the eye socket of a screaming cultist.
"It's that the archenemy love to mutilate Commissars. Icons of faith don't you know. And, between you and me, I reckon the boys here wouldn't particularly enjoy seeing you gutted." he said with grim humour. "Didn't happen to get shipped here with a compliment of tanks per chance?"

[warpvortex]

Lister face lightened up at these orders for finally he was able to get stuck into the fray.
"Sir, yes Sir!"
Lister picks up his heavy bolter and takes the safety off. He crouches and walks slowly to the end of the sandbags. He then carefully pokes his head out a bit to have a look.
Perfect. A straight line of fire, with no one to get hit by my rounds.
He then manoeuvres round and whilst walking down to meet up with the Commissar, fires semi auto into the forward cultist.
1, 4, 6, 10. I like my job.
Lister reaches the gap where all the guardsmen that hide behind the sandbags on the front line are. Still firing his weapon, he decides to have a little more fun and start to use the full auto function for a bit. Rounds fly from the Heavy bolter as Lister's kill count goes up. He stays shooting like this for a few minuets, then stops, and goes to gain the cover that the sandbags offer. He puts the heavy bolter on safety as he thinks for a while. His finger tapping the trigger happy while the safety is on.
haha, 20 so far and more still to come.
Lister looks up and notices the Commissar inspiring his men. When the Commissar gets back into cover Lister gives him a salute.
"Sir, the Lt commanded my to bring some support fire for you and your men."