# Hive City Siege



## Shacklock (Dec 15, 2009)

_The repetitive, constant crack of lasfire filled the air, occasionally punctured by deafeningly loud, jaw-wrenching ordnance blasts. Orbital configured Starhawks and Interceptors screeched across the sky, unleashing their payload of destructive, plascrete melting plasma bombs upon the besieged hive-spire._

_Jonas risked pulling his head up over the makeshift barricade for a fraction of a second, observing with a sickening dread the seemingly endless horde of cultists bearing down upon the Arbites’ position. A withering hail of fire strafed the barricade, turning its metallic surface into oozing slag. 
“Emperor preserves us,” Jonas muttered despairingly. This ferocious rebellion had come so swiftly and unexpectedly, the hives’ defence force had been so quickly and startlingly overwhelmed within mere hours. Now he and the small handful of Judges were all that remained of the Emperor’s loyal servants within the Hive City, perhaps even on the whole planet. The Arbiters had been unable to raise a response from the other Precincts across the planet to call for aid or to confirm how widespread the insurrection went. One thing that was clear, the rebels were well equipped and organised and they seemed determined to reduce the Arbites’ Precinct, and possibly the whole of the spire along with it, to dust. _
_Jonas jumped up from behind the now useless cover, racking his combat shotgun and pumping several shells into the oncoming horde of robbed cultists. Several of the rebels went down in a shrieking tangle limbs, quickly trampled in their fellow insurgents haste to overrun the arbiter-judges position. _

_Jonas scrambled backwards quickly, scything down cultists with each shot. It was impossible not to hit something in the close confines of the hive world’s cramped corridors. He spun around a tight corner, narrowly avoiding a volley of lasfire. _
_The Arbiter slung his rifle quickly, thumbing a grenade dispenser fixed within his carapace. Letting out a sigh of relief that the dispenser was not empty, Jonas tossed a krak grenade around the corner, hearing it roll across the metallic floor amidst the closely following mass of insurgents. Without waiting to hear the painful consequences, the Judge sprinted down the corridor ahead, heading for the relative safety of the Precinct, shotgun in hand once more._

_Clicking the comm-bead nestled within his ear, the arbiter-judge cycled through to the Arbiter channel, screaming desperately for the armoured precinct door to open. _
_Jonas’s back struck solid metal suddenly and he realised with a horribly lurch deep in his stomach that this was it. He was between the hammer and the anvil, a horde of ravening cultist scum ahead and the solid, impenetrable hatch door of the locked down Arbiter Precinct behind. 
“For Emperor’s sake! Open the damned doors!” Jonas swore, pushing his carapace armoured form against the unmoving door. _

_A teeming mass of hooded figures rounded the corner, entering a scorched, bullet ridden corridor. Ahead there was a lone figure, an Arbiter, cornered! The lead cultist let out a horse, phlegm laden scream of delight, the hunt was over. _
_Raising his battered auto-pistol the slavering rebel let off a quick burst of caseless slugger rounds at the cornered Judge. His target staggered, not quick enough in avoiding the attack. _
_They were close now, just a few more moments and they would be upon the hated member of the Corpse-Emperors Arbites. 
Just as Tatius made to snap off another round from his pistol, the door behind the Arbiter-Judge slid open with a juddering jolt, his target falling to the ground, through the suddenly open door._ 
_Moments later Tatius himself was on his back, everything going rapidly dark, a cold feeling spreading up from his gut. Screaming shrieks of agony howled all around him as his fellows too were scythed down._
_Comprehension dawned on the dying cultist as he spied the bulky form of two twin-linked Auto-cannons beyond the open Precinct door.
It mattered not, death would befall the followers of the False God soon, the Prophet would ascend from the depths and bring the Unclean One’s judgment…._


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## ThatWhichBearsNoName (Dec 17, 2009)

Smoke... not quite as thick as it had been in the underbelly of the Hive, but it’s acrid and chemical filled stench was still present even amongst the middle levels, clogging up the streets of Hive City Alpha like a blanket. It did little to disguise the smells of blood, cordite, las fumes and corruption... that tangy taste in the breeze that always seemed to follow the warp’s heretical minions. Coupled with the bitter stench of rotting meat it was unbearable to the average man. The man who stalked (one uses the term charitably seeing as this said man was lugging around far too much equipment to truly be considered stealthy) through the shadows of mid level alleys, however, had been bearing the smell for the past week and emperor knew he’d be bearing it for a lot longer...Or at least that’s what he liked to think.

The heavily encumbered Larry kept moving along Hive City Alpha’s now ghostly alleys. The guardsman kept pausing as he entered and left empty alleys, ice-blue eyes quickly scanning his surroundings (closely followed by a sweeping motion with the bolt pistol in Larry’s left hand) ensuring he wasn’t going to run into cultist forces. To be frank, Larry had to make far too many detours for his own liking... Detours that didn’t include laying any nasty surprises for those damnable cultists. What else could he have done? The off-worlder was desperate to get to the arbiter Precinct and hole up with other survivors who could fight... especially after spending five days thinking he had been the only one defending the hive with guerrilla warfare... Five days of being all alone after watching the fellow tribesmen you had served with for 7 years get slaughtered far too quickly. Larry grit his teeth and pushed the dark memories from his mind, all that mattered now was the present... He had and would kill many more of the plague god’s followers for what they had done, after he had found the judges and found a way to spend his efforts most effectively.

Suddenly the vox-bead in his ear crackled loudly and the lone guardsman froze as he listened in... Larry had been attempting to piece together the exact whereabouts of the Precinct by listening in on the Arbites vox channel, trying to piece together garbled messages, then trying to translate them. The results were mixed at best. At the moment though there seemed to be a fight going on, rather close by to what must’ve been close by... Judging by the crystal clear sound of shouting and staccato crackling of gunshots within in the transmission. Larry’s gnarled brows furrowed as he tried to piece together the low-gothic, the furrow growing deep with a sense of fear at the very frantic mention of doors opening... So there was a safe house, but it wasn’t a good idea to try and get there while being chased... If it was still standing that is (the channel was oddly silent). Larry didn’t like it, not at all, and even the prospect of getting to a place where the lightning and water spirits flowed didn’t help the feeling.

Once the transmission abruptly ended Larry quickly adjusted the straps of his pack and the las-guns hanging off his shoulders, trying to ensure that he would be able to put down a decent sprint should the cultists show up again... Making sure the axe hanging off his hip was still reachable. With that quick once over he moved off again only know moving with a much slower pace, taking longer to scan where he was about to walk through, sticking much closer to the shadows. Larry quietly cursed his skills in low-gothic several times as he tried to piece together directions to the Precinct, desperately wishing he had a map in good old Lairan... Or at least one of his squadmates who had been able to speak low gothic.

After what must’ve been 15 minutes Larry finally came across a sorry looking barricade made up of bits of furniture and junk... Judging by the still smouldering holes and the way most of it seemed to have collapsed it obviously hadn’t done its job very well. Then again, despite the piss poor barricade, there were a lot of dead cultists strewn across the street in front of it, blasted apart by shotgun shells. Keeping a wary eye on his surroundings he moved in for a closer look, quickly finding 3 bodies of heavily armoured judges... Or at least what was left of them. “Allfather guide these warriors to your halls.” He muttered making the Aquila over his chest... Nothing more nothing less, they wouldn’t be remembered anymore by the Imperium than Larry’s own squad would be. Only the Emperor needed to remember them and that was all that mattered in the end.

Barely a split second later Larry was off once more, following the trail of dead cultists behind the trashed barricade, guessing that they might’ve been following the arbiter who had made that panicky transmission and thereby lead him directly to whatever doors the judge and been shouting about... Larry hoped... no prayed that he wasn’t about to run into a trap. As he past a small crater left by a grenade he stopped in his tracks... He didn’t know exactly why, but he had a hunch right at that moment and that hunch was telling him now was the time to try and contact the Lawgivers... Larry had been avoiding it for long enough and if he just suddenly appeared in front of them he was going to get himself shot. The guardsman got down on one knee and brought his hand to the vox bead, all the while keeping his eyes on his surroundings.

“Arbites...” He began, thick rolling accent already denoting him as an off-worlder, “I Larry Oniratha of Imperial Gaurd...” He paused already finding he was having trouble thinking of the right low-gothic words to say, “I just outside your... ummm... position, I think. if you hear, talk back,” Larry’s palm came to his face as he finished, once more yearning for one of these hivers to speak Lairan...


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