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Behind Enemy Lines (RP thread)

Started by Mabbz, February 23, 2016, 02:35:44 PM

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The Man They Call Jayne

Wexler returned, having found nothing more useful that another box or two of Ammo, which would go some way toward keeping them alive. He often wondered how people got by with magazines of less than 100 rounds. Unfortunately, the smaller mags were not compatible, nor was the ammunition inside them.

"We don't need augmentation, cyborg. We are the Imperial Guard, and our Big Green Style cannot be defeated!"
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Narric

"You seem to have found a decent supply of ammunition." Hertius noted, looking at the hefty haul the two Sergeants had procured. "We do however also need to find out where we are. I shall try and salvage something of the ship's navigational computer, even if its just to give us our present location, and point us to this planet's magnetic north."

With that said, Hertius trudged towards what appeared to be the wreckage of the command deck. His servo-arm whirred into life, aiding him in shifting metal and steel plate out of his path.

Wargamer

With a grunt, McTavish dumped the bolt rounds on the ground and began to help shift debris.
"Weren't there a couple of Ogryn aboard? If one of those lugs survived we'd have all the muscle we could ever need!"
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
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Mabbz

"I survived through a combination of remembering that small, enclosed spaces like cupboards tend to be sturdier than large rooms, good luck and the fact that I do have a few bionic enhancements," said Maria. "Besides, I may be a medic, but I'm an Imperial Guard medic. The weak don't last long in the guard." With that, she jogged over to help McTavish lift a particularly large bit of metal.

The Man They Call Jayne

Between the Enginseers bionics and the other two. Wexler figured they could manage, and decided to take a look outs position with sightlines over likely access points. With luck he would spot the Tau coming before they realised there were any survivors.
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Vyper

"Ow".
Steve woke up from his nap feeling much worse than when he had drifted off. And definitely not in the same place.
Peeling himself out of the dent he had made in the bulkhead, Steve took in what remained of the room he was in.
Weapons and crates littered the floor, many of them broken.
'Too small anyway, only one gun for me!' he thought to himself as he hefted his grenade launcher.


From the other side of the remains of a hatch, Steve could hear commotion. Hefting his Slabshield, he let out an almighty bellow and slammed his right boot into the broken remains of the door.

Wargamer

There was a blur of motion and McTavish had his Hellgun up and trained toward the now ruined hatch.
"Well bugger me with a Sororitas strap on! You got me an Ogryn! It's like Ascension Day, but without the priest molesting me! Can I name him Tiny?"
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

Narric

Hertius heard the thunder-like boom of metal, and immediately pulled out his Laspistol to point to where the noise came from.

Realising it was an Ogryn he lowered it, but kept ready incase this one decided to go rogue. If it was even possible.

Vyper

Looking around at the wreckage, Steve could only make out a handful of small people.
3 guards and a robot man by the looks of it.
Lowering his shield, Steve plodded over towards the group.

Mabbz

"Halt, Ogryn!" Maria yelled, her voice slightly higher-pitched than she had wanted. "Identify yourself." After a moment's thought she realised that a three syllable word might not work. "What's your name?"

Wargamer

McTavish rolled his eyes. "Have you never worked with these guys before?"
He walked toward the Ogryn, keeping his weapon lowered. "Hey there, big guy! You alright? You were real lucky to survive the crash. The Emperor must think you're super special! In fact, he's picked you for a really important mission! You don't want to let the Emperor down, do you? He'd really like you to help us out. See, we asked the Emperor to send us the biggest, strongest, most loyal Ogryn in the Imperium to help us, and that must be you, right? So, can you help us shift some of this scrap metal out of the way?"
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

Vyper

Steve ignored the squeaky one, but the second small man said nice things. Steve liked him.
"What needs moving, small friend?" he said, with a very toothy grin.

Mabbz

After about 10 minutes of digging (massively helped by the Steve's muscle and Hertius' servo arm), the group finally found what they were looking for. The navigation console was a mess, but the sensor array looked salvageable. They also found the craft's black box recorder, undamaged.

"If I can repair the short range sensor array, I can get an idea of local terrain and check for enemy movement," Hertius mused. "Or I could spend the time wiring the black box up to one of the less damaged screens; that should give us our location and tell us what shot us down."

Mabbz

Deciding the sensors were more important than, Hertius got to work on repairing them. They weren't as badly damaged as he had expected, and he had them working inside of 5 minutes. The screen flickered on revealing the surrounding terrain for about 10 kilometres. It was largely just grassy hills, although there was a forest about 8km to the northwest. The transport had been travelling west when it crashed although taking evasive manoeuvres into account meant that that probably wasn't the direction they needed to go to reach their intended destination.

All this was potentially important information, that got largely ignored in favour of the more pressing issue. Moving in from the southwest were two decent sized blips. "Based on the size, they're probably vehicles," Maria said, seemingly to herself. "Devilfish, maybe?"

"Maybe. Hang on, what's that?" Wexler squinted pointing at a seemingly empty hilltop about a kilometre to the east. It was faint, but the sensors were picking up some kind of distortion there.

Wargamer

McTavish made an utterance that could not be legally recorded by ordinary Imperial scribes. "We've got no sodding anti-tank weapons and there are tanks inbound! We should bolt east; whatever that glitch is, my gut says it's not Hellgun proof!"
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system