Posted on Behalf of Jason
A large Citadel Ship Floated over Delteron. Sister Stern stared out one of the many stain glass view ports. “Battle reports confirm one of the villages is under assault, the Adeptus Astartes are sending in the Salamanders. That should crush the main assault, but Autarch Em’ery has advised me these “Dark” Eldar always have plans within plans, and a need to cause pain and terror, the surrounding villages will be raided.”
Colonel Schaeffer chewed his cigar while looking at a 3d projection of the battle fields below. “If you’re thinking of sending in the 707 as fodder to slow/distract the Xeno, why not send in our Xeno Mercs instead, a dead Eldar is better than a dead human, even this human scum.”
Sister Stern turned to face the War Scarred Colonel, she was not as Xenophobic as the Guardsman. “Autarch Em’ery is occupied with an Ork spore cleansing in a nearby sector. We will send down the 707 to be stationed in the nearby villages to absorb most of the casualties instead of the farmers. They will just have to live long enough to allow the Salamanders to complete their goals and drive out the Dark Eldar.”
Scheaffer rubbed is grizzled chin in thought. “No one’s going to cry over there losses, but these scum do come with a few troubles, they are not like my own 13th Penal Legion. Commissar Dulin personal over sees most of the Demon Dog field operations, and he has made a deal with that scum. They get a portion of any war loot they take. Commissar feels this greed factor over comes their cowardly instincts, and his reports do show there to be some truth to this, but if not for the watchful eye of him and his colonels those prisoners would cause just as much harm to the village as it would the enemy…” Schaeffer stopped talking as he heard boots on the tactics room stairs.
Commissar Dulin slowly and arrogantly walked down the steps as he adjusted his black leather gloves. He was dressed in the traditional Commissar uniform but his face was covered in a golden skull mask and its red crystal lensed eyes glowed from within. When he spoke his voice had a metal ring/echo to it. “Worry not about the Demon Dogs Colonel. Unlike other penal legions, I am able to maintain more loyalty, through a savage Code of honor.”
Schaeffer laughed at the word honor.“I have the Prison Cells divided into Gangs headed by one of their own, and they receive what war loot they can take, if they disobey orders, or try to escape, they lose their cut and the Gang Boss can receive punishment or death. So the Boss keeps his men in check with much harsher steps and he understands them better, so they give him more loyalty.”
“Their job is to do and die, not ask why.”
“A fed dog obeys more than one starved.”
“Gentlemen,” Sister Stern interrupted them… “It’s time to begin troop deployment; we’re picking up Webway signatures.”
(Picture a ww2 French village under assault)
“We can’t hold the bell tower!” A penal legionnaire shouted into his vox. Suddenly a Dark Eldar bike flew by and hurled a hooked chain, impaling the legionnaire’s shoulder and ripping him out of the bell tower screaming. The Dark Eldar biker laughed maniacally. A second biker fired into the tower causing it to crumble and fall apart, the heavy top part falling into and breaking apart the lower half.
Trask ducked back into the house he was peeking out from. The left half of his face was already scarred and bandaged from this battle. What was he going to do, the xeno where all over the village. It was only a matter of time before he was killed. The Brass didn’t really care what happened to a Penal legionnaire; if he died they’d just consider him redeemed in the emperor’s eyes. Screw that noise, He personally hoped the emperor didn’t care if he lived a bit longer. A thought ran through his head as it often did, Make a Run for It! His friends called him Grease Monkey cause he could fix or fly any vehicle, even Xeno ones. That’s how he got in prison in the first place, stealing an Eldar Ambassadors Grav-Vehicle. But he quickly dropped that idea, Commissar Dulin seemed to see everything and would find him no matter where he went, and besides these damn xeno were as fast as shit through a goose. No hiding it out was better.
As if just thinking about them was a cue, the door frame beside him was riddled with fire. Trask peeked out with his good eye down the street. Four Dark Eldar seminude women were running down the thin village street towards his location. He panicked, those bitches were hardcore. He popped out of the door frame firing wildly with his bolt pistol. The three lead woman easily sided stepped the wild shots with alien unnatural speed and agility, but the fourth actually side stepped into one of the shots, having assumed he would shoot directly at them. The bolter bullet exploded inside the woman popping her chest like a balloon. Trask backed into the house screaming, “We got Company!!” Trask ran past the home’s broken furniture, jumped through one of the houses holes in the wall and ran for the staircase to the second floor, but before he could get to them the Dark Eldar Wytchs came into the house with unbelievable speed. Two came from his left and one from his right. The one from his right jump kicked him to the ground, then stepped on his arm as her other foot kicked his gun away. An arrogant mocking smile spread on her face as she stepped down hard and broken his arm.
As she spoke her strange alien tongue, a silver box on her belt translated into common. “You never stood a chance, human. You’re alone and pathetic. We shall teach you experience beyond limits... pain and pleasure, indivisible.” All three of the woman’s faces became pleased, and one of them actual moaned as she continued to grind her foot on his arm. The one standing on Trask’s arm stopped smiling as the fear coming from him seemed to stop. Now Trask was smiling.
“I’m not alone.”
She looked up to the top of the stairs and saw a wild man dressed only in a pair of prison pants and a collar, leap down the stairs and land on the wytch biting her face and knocking her into a grandfather clock. A man dressed in Navajo clothing also jumped down the stair and hit one of the other wytchs, he two exchange dagger swipes back and forth, the Indian somehow matching the prowess of the wytch. Two other Demon Dogs rushed down the stairs pistols firing at the last wytch. The wytch dodged their shots with inhuman agility and parried one of the mens pistols aside and slit his throat with her other hand. Then the spun wiping her hair around and the hooks in her hair slashed across the other man’s eyes, blinding him as they sliced his eyes, then she rammed her dagger into his groin and cut him balls to belly button. He fell screaming. She turn to help verses one of her sisters attackers but the dry wall next to her exploded and a huge bulky figure came running through the wall. The ogryn back handed her hard with his left hand, knocking blood and teeth out of her mouth.
“You filth..” her translator started to curse, but the big man was already bringing his right arm down, holding an iron refrigerator unit, it hammered her with a squish into a pile on the ground. The Indian continued to parry the wytchs blows, then he made a plunge and swiped a blade for her face, but the much faster wytch leaned back and the blade just missed, but as she leaned back, the Indian threw his second blade into her foot. The wytch screamed, her superior speed taken, the Indian used his now free hand to catch the woman’s blade arm, and he slammed his other blade into her armpit and into her dark heart.
The wild prisoner continued biting his wytchs face, and spit out her nose with a thuk on the floor. The wytch scream from both the pain and the loss to her beauty, even in combat their vanity and arrogance took a leading role. The wild man never relenting headbutted her hard knocking her head into the grandfather clocks glass front. With one hand he wrapped the clock weight chains around the wytchs throat choking her, with the other he reached up and ripped the metal clock arms from its face and rammed them into her throat. Her screams drowned out with a gurgle.
Trask stood from the floor. Shiv his Indian friend was already starting to wrap his busted arm with a Med-pack. “Nice one Animal.” Trask turned to the wild man. “Think you could have jumped sooner?”
Animal smiled, face still covered in blood and said, “I don’t like you that much.” And he walked over to the wytch Shiv had killed and shot her in the head anyway to be sure.
Trask frown to see the large ogryn, Orik Bone’ead. For an Ogryn he was practically a genius and loyal as hell to the Commissiar. No way could they run now even if they wanted to, at least not without killing the big guy and right now Trask didn’t like their chances.
Shiv silent as ever, gave Trask a serious look then looked to the legionnaire still groaning on the ground. Trask crouched over the man. His eyes were lacerated and half his dick and bowels lay at his feet. Trask huffed and rubbed his own tired, grizzled, bandaged face and then drew his pistol and shot the man in the head. He hated to kill one of their own. They had to stand up for one another, no one else would, but the mans wounds were too sever for their half assed med packs and he would just slow them down and get more of them killed. Also he had been an Asshole.
“I Smash dem wot is tryin’ ta ‘urt da Commissar.” Orik stated, Then as if he forgot how or why he had come to be here, he asked “Wer is da Commissar?”
Trask turn to face the Ogryn. Damn Ogryn was going to force them out of hiding and back into the hell zone of the streets, but he knew there was no stopping Orik, only The Commissar and Schaffer’s safety mattered to him, he was like any other loyal solider, dumb as hell.
Trask looked up as he heard boots coming down the stairs. Animal was carrying his gear and he was followed by Warrior Woman, as deadly as beautiful, the majorly moustached Vostroyan Firstborn Demolition Man, Fingers the Mordian Blackmarketer and Rocket Girl face scars and all. The last 2 were still buttoning up their pants. Figures they would be screwing while he was being killed. Animal was always on the edge of murdering someone, the imperiums worst psycho, but he could kill the shit out of stuff. He must have come to the same conclusion as he did and decided rejoining the battle instead of trying to kill Orik was best, that alone confirmed to Trask to not try running now. Damn. Trask looked down at the treated bandages on his arm and saw that they had hardened to a cast, and the pain chems had kicked in. Now was as good as any time to rejoin the fight.
Warrior Princess, as Trask called her, ran to the door frame and put her back to it as she used her Lasgun’s scope to look up and down the street. “Main fighting seems to be coming from the central plaza, Monkey.” She said in some sort of exotic accent.
“We going back out there Sgt?” a Young new recruit asked walking down stairs then, gaging and vomiting as he saw the mess.
“Don’t call me that! That’s what they called me when I was one of those assholes. Call me Grease Monkey, Monkey, Trask or even Son of a bitch, but you call me Sgt again and I’ll bust your jaw.” He Looked at Orik. It was a good thing the dumb brute had forgot why he had come here, odds are the
Commissar or Colonel had noticed they were absent from the fighting and sent Orik to bring them back by force.
“We’ll help you find the Commissar Orik.”
Orik smiled at that.
They started down the street with Shiv and Princess in front sticking to the wall of the homes as close as able, every once in a while either a blast or Dark Eldar jet bike zipped overhead. After a few more streets and a shortcut through a few ruined buildings they came across 3 Dark eldar bikers. One was hovering and two were standing on foot in a pile of dead penal legionnaires. The two were crouched over a screaming man doing something.
Trask signaled them all to take cover and be silent.
One of the two Dark Eldar stood holding a bloody human face. He held it up over his own face and said in his own language, translated by his belt box, probably left on while shouting his threats. “For the Emperor!” As he tried to imitate a Guardsman commander stance. The other Dark Eldar laughed.
“Oh hell no.” Trask mumbled, stealing, and murder were one thing, but mocking the emperor…by a Xenos, they couldn’t do that. Trask Signaled Animal to cut loose.
The Psycho jumped up with roar and landed on a broken water fountain and blasted the Hovering Jet bike with his Melta gun. In a flash part of the bike and its rider were gone in a glowy melted blast.
Warrior Princess jumped up with a battle lalalalala, and literally leaped and twirled through the air and landed by the other two and put her twin shortsword through their backs.
Trask spit on their bodies and turned to Princess.
“The main square is just ahead.” She advised looking at the fallen legions tracks.
As they silently approached the large open plaza they saw Commissar Dulin and Colonel Schaeffer fighting back to back surround by some Dark Elf wytchs.
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