# The Seige of Kasyr Fortis - Action Thread



## Warsmith40 (Feb 8, 2010)

_The hatch to Warsmith Iacon's chamber irised open, and the Iron Warriors lord marched briskly to the landing bay. He had completed his pre-battle meditations, and the portents seemed to favor him. The planet below was still unsuspecting of a full-fledged invasion by an entire Grand Company of Iron Warriors. This thought brought a sinister smile to the scarred face of the ancient warsmith.

He reached the assemby hall in the heart of the battle barge in time to see his warriors fall into ranks. Each champion stood proudly at the head of his followers. 

Caesar Wyvern stood with the warsmith's chosen warriors, their armor gleaming from the ministrations of the slave-helots, their weapons' thirst for war almost tangible in the air. 

Kachkor Aurbane kept his warriors in rigid formation, their bolters all held across thier chests in devotion. The champion stood with barely contained contempt, waiting for one of his warriors to grow slack.

Khertos Asenth and his warriors stood at rough attention with barely concealed battle lust plain in their posture. Their silence was deafening.

Furnace's Havocs stood with their heavy weapons braced, their devotion to their champion and the warsmith plain. Even at attention, their keen eyes saw all.

Standing apart from the main bulk of the brethren was Ferron Horix. His charges were unworthy of entering the great hall, so he stood with the other Iron Warriors chosen to lead the masses of slaves to battle. He stood apart from even them however, for he was Taskmaster. He would see that supplies were maintained to all the brethren during the seige, and that no slave faltered in the assault.

Iacon crossed the space with patient, weighty steps, stopping only when he reached the pulpit. He turned and the vox-amp in the lectern brodacast his speech to the whole of the _ Sledge of Olympia. _

"Iron Warriors, the time has come to once more bring the lapdogs of the corpse-god to their knees." The next line with contempt: "The Great Despoiler has given us the task of taking this world to pave the way for his Black Crusade." At this he smiled menacingly. "And we shall indeed pave the wave, pave it with the tampled stone, blood, and bones of the foe. We were the battering ram of the Great Crusade; so too will we now be the battering ram of the Black Crusades! For the Despoiler has promised us this world and its manufactorums should we succeed, that we might strike further toward Terra." He paused here. "I hold no illusions that you hold much faith in the Despoiler's schemes. But I have seen portents of great successes should we lead the front as we always have. I rely on your strength now to crack the walls of this fortess world."

With that, a hololith appeared over his head, a crimson simulacra of the planet below. "Today, we break Kasyr Fortis, and claim it in the name of Perturabo and the gods!" He flung out his hands at this, his claw arm gleaming in the firelight of the great hall. "My champions will lead the assault and establish a beachhead via Stormbird, that we might bring out greatest tools of war to the foe. Go now, champions, glory awaits!" _

As you move with your squads to your stations in the drop hangar, the _Sledge of Olympia_ begins the first phase of the assault. Great melta and lance batteries blast away orbital defenses and the few precious Thunderhawks at the warsmith's desposal swat interceptors from the sky. And the battle barge and its escorts gird for an impending naval counterattack, you are inserted via Stormbird to the primary drop zone several kilometers from the largest fortress city on Kasyr Fortis: Imperius Magnus.

Several stormbirds take anti-aircraft fire on the descent, yet yours miraculously touches down unscathed, and deploys your warriors with all alacrity.

The terrain consists of vast stretches of run down habs and a few scattered agri-plots. You are in one of these plots along with the other champions and their squads, with the stormbirds returning to orbit to load the next wave of troops. There are no weakling civilians, so they must have been taken behind the wall. You must make your way through the Imperial-infested habs and clear the area so demoliton of the habs and seigeworks for the outer wall can commence.

There are three routes through the hab districts: southwards, notherwards, and eastwards. Expect Imperial resistance at any juncture. You may split up or go as one large contigent, but remember one thing: the warsmith does not accept failure! 

Desribe the hab district in detail in your posts, and don't forget to incorporate your squads. Name those your champion favors, maybe set some rivalries. Get creative, but nothing extreme... yet.


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

Kachkor Aurbane stood sentinel-like as his master spoke, taking in every word the Warsmith said and storing it in his internal memory coils. His augmented legs and left arm clinked quietly as he breathed in and out, barely moving at all. He glared at his squad as they stood by him, searching for any slight breach of protocol, any opening to exploit. He was almost disappointed when he could find none. 

_Very well_, he thought with grim satisfaction, perhaps this is a good sign. _They have been well-trained._

At the mention of Abbaddon the Despoiler, Kachkor stood straighter. His cruelty and malice was un-precedented something the Champion of Siege aspired to. His weapon, _Flesheater_, was a comforting presence to his hands; the one despicable flesh, and the other pure, cold metal. He was eager to make them raw with pathetic, Imperial flesh.

Marching his men to their waiting Stormbird, Kachkor eyed them individually. A few of them caught his eye, whilst others did not. One of them in particular, one of the meltagunners, piqued Kachkor's interest.

"You there," said Kachkor in his metallic, automatic voice, "what is your name?"

"My name is inconsequential. All that matters is my desire to burn the Imperium and fight in the name of my lords and masters," replied the warrior, giving a short salute. Kachkor was impressed.

"Before today, soldier, your name did not matter. But today, you are an Aspiring Champion, and leader of this squad. Now, your name matters." said Kachkor, his red eye-sockets gleaming. 

Abruptly, one of the boltgun-armed marines turned around, speaking out:

"My lord, I am the designated sergeant of this squad, you cannot-"

The warrior got no further, his face shot clean off by a round from Kachkor's weapon, the twin barrels smoking slightly, but with the under-slung plasma grille still cool to the touch.

"Not any-more," snarled Kachkor, putting down his weapon as the body of the marine fell to the floor. He then turned back to the meltagunner.

"My name is Barbak, my lord," said the marine, hoping it was what the Champion of Siege wanted to hear.

"Barbak. Yes." said Kachkor, satisfied. He turned back to the stormbird, and boarded it, watching as his squad entered and took their seats. "A worthy name. A name of importance."

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As the stormbird shrieked to the ground, Kachkor ordered his squad to disembark. He scanned the crude habs critically, laughing at how flimsy they were. He doubted they would stand a frag grenade.

As the stormbird took off back to orbit, the Champion of Siege analysed the route to the outer walls of Imperius Magnus. There were three routes; directly east, straight to the walls, or on either flank to the north and south. He knew which route would be most guarded, which route would lead to a dead end, and which would be the most favourable. He turned to Barbak.

"Which route, Barbak? North, south, or east?" Kachkor asked, wondering what the Aspiring Champion would choose. He was pleased with the answer.

"Yes, I agree. North it is." said Kachkor. He lead his squad in quick-march towards the cluster of habs to the north, not waiting for the other squads. He eyed the alleyways, watching for enemy movement. As they marched on, through the cluttered streets, Kachkor noticed that there were no civilians. They must've been evacuated. Shame. After passing several habs, they reached an agri-plot. A wide stretch of cultured land stood ahead of them, with a line of habs on the opposite side.

He turned again to Barbak, "What should we do, Barbak?" Kachkor was enjoying testing his new favourite.

"The opposite side will be almost certainly fortified with PDF troopers. Any commander would see the significance and advantage presented by such a wide, open stretch of land, before several buildings, providing a perfect shooting gallery," Barbak paused, Kachkor indicating for him to continue, "However, we are clad in power armour, and we can withstand any small-arms fire they can put out at us." Barbak concluded.

Kachkor was quite impressed, but he had missed one detail. "Yes, mostly correct. We will approach them, and they will be un-able to damage us. But we won't advance by foot." Kachkor turned to his left, indicating the nearby garage. "You will find that that building is filled with armoured vehicles. Whilst any PDF commander will have used the shooting gallery to their advantage, I doubt they will have expected us to use their own vehicles against them. It seems they missed this garage." 

Kachkor smiled as he threw open the garage doors. He wondered what kind of vehicles they would use on their approach to war.


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## warsmith7752 (Sep 12, 2009)

Furnace stood stock still while his warsmith battered on about why they were attacking the fortress. He didn’t care about why they attacked he just wanted to hear the roar of guns and feel the earth shake with the battle cry’s of the iron warriors. Furnace panned his signum around to look at the other warriors. His own squad stood like him just as he taught them to. Furnace despised the other champions and their squads but they were regrettably needed for the grand legion of the iron warriors to survive. Beneath his helmet Furnace voxed to his squad “I expect no less than usual and just as the warsmith I accept no failure.” The rest of the squad muttered acknowledgments but they were used to Furnaces pre battle grillings. They generally involved 20 hours of training per day for 1 month before a battle, Not taking their armour of for the entire month and juggling time to worship the gods and their Primarch.

Waiting in the hanger of the storm bird Furnace commanded his squad to recite Their Primarchs words at the battle of terra while they stood (even though there were seats on the storm bird). Furnace was secretly very proud of his squad, he had trained himself in his Primarchs image and he had trained them in his image and they had surpassed his expectations. Their aim as sharp as the most bloodthirsty khornite blade, able to hit a fly 50 feet away, although it was not surprising with the amount of training they were forced to do and the amount of modification on their weapons. The storm bird landed with a slight bump but the ride was smooth almost no anti aircraft fire had been shot at them. There were three forks in the road one led directly to the wall and two led to the flanks.

Kachkor Aurbane was discussing which direction to go with a squad member. Kachkor and his squad headed towards a garage, “They think the imperial dogs are stupid enough to leave their transport behind, Lets see what they find shall we?” “SIR” chanted the squad in unison. “and after that we will go East, Khertos Asenth will you go east with us? It is obviously the best strategic formation for the East road?”


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Khertos stood talking with his squad about the coming campaign.
"Where ever we are going, it seems like it is going to be a well fortified place, at least it seems like it, since even the Chosen are with us." Khertos said to his squad. One of them was about to answer when the Warmsith entered the room, Khertos made a quick gesture and the squad got quiet.
After the briefing Khertos made his way towards the hangars.
"Prepare your chainswords my warriors, and use them well, and slaughter any enemy you come upon, I will grant a reward to the one that can confirm most kills." Khertos said to his squad, who all cheered in response.
_"This will be a bloody fight, just as I like it."_ Khertos thought with a big smile,while he boarded a Stormbird.

The travel between the Sledge of Olympia and the ground happened in total silence. When the hatch opened to let them out. Khertos charged out with a great roar, but he got disappointed that there were not a single enemy in sight. He watched as the other squads landed, he noticed that Kackhor took his squad to a garage, and heard a voice say some thing about the imperials not being stupid enough to leave some transports behind.
Khertos turned towards the voice and saw Furnace. The other champion turned towards Khertos and asked him if he would join them eastwards, having something about tactics as a reason.
"I will go east with you, since it is always nice to have some fire support, especially from a Havoc squad." Khertos said while walking towards the garage, hoping to find something big and sturdy enough to transport a squad of marines.


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## emporershand89 (Jun 11, 2010)

Wyvern stood there with his squad as their stormbird decended towards their OPR(objective rally point). He sat silently silently as his elite squad recited the Battle Hymns and sent prayers to the glorious Gods of Chaos. He knew today was going to be a good day, a day of reckoning for the might world of Kasyr Fortis.

The squad touched down and jumped off the ramp of the sotrm bird, forming a 360 degree security circle as Wyvern exited in a stroll. Looking at his aspex, he saw that the command unti was only 20 yards off. He decided it was best that he hook up with his master and recieve further instructions.

"Gliser, move the men through that hab unit and to the square on the other side. We shall hook up with the Warsmith and his party." as his men moved out, Wyvern sweared he cold hear something stocking them, but ignored it and headed into the hab unit, pistol first, scannign for targets.


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## Nightlord92 (Jul 7, 2010)

Ferron Horix stood stock still in the great hall. All around him the warriors of the other great companies stood in serried ranks: Kachkor and his ilk, looking more robotic than astartes, the cold presence of Khertos standing ready to go to war with his warriors, the Chosen Champion Wyvern and his marines standing together with their polished armor, ready to earn the Warsmith’s favor, and the huge figure of Furnace and his havocs, who seemed to take a pride in their ability to chew through the ammunition Ferron sent to them, brandishing their weapons for all to see. Though these were his brothers, Ferron felt a camaraderie for none of them. Even his own astartes under him felt distant. Their job was simply to kill the enemy, which they did remarkably well. They had no idea of the logistical nightmare that came every time they deployed: tons upon tons of ammunition, thousands of slaves and human soldiers, war machines, and much more. Still, Ferron relished his duties as Taskmaster. In over 10,000 years, he had never grown tired of the symphony of war the Iron Warriors made. It also helped him knowing that without his genius, the other champions would be out of ammo and supplies before they even knew what hit them. 

Without moving an inch, Ferron watched with wolfish eyes as the Warsmith took his place at the pulpit.

"Iron Warriors, the time has come to once more bring the lapdogs of the corpse-god to their knees. The Great Despoiler has given us the task of taking this world to pave the way for his Black Crusade. And we shall indeed pave the wave, pave it with the tampled stone, blood, and bones of the foe. We were the battering ram of the Great Crusade; so too will we now be the battering ram of the Black Crusades! For the Despoiler has promised us this world and its manufactorums should we succeed, that we might strike further toward Terra. I hold no illusions that you hold much faith in the Despoiler's schemes. But I have seen portents of great successes should we lead the front as we always have. I rely on your strength now to crack the walls of this fortress world." The warsmith decreed, his voice booming all along the great hall and throughout the Sledge of Olympia. 

Ferron could feel his twin hearts begin beating faster at the thought of destroying a fortress world, planets designed by the Imperium to defend against forces like the Iron Warriors. Indeed, Ferron could well imagine the glory he would earn for himself, Perturabo, and the Gods of the Warp. This would be the finest siege he would see in over 2,000 years! 

"Today, we break Kasyr Fortis, and claim it in the name of Perturabo and the gods! My champions will lead the assault and establish a beachhead via Stormbird, that we might bring out greatest tools of war to the foe. Go now, champions, glory awaits!" Warsmith Iacon roared.

As if on cue, the other champions began hurriedly disembarking with their companies towards their waiting Stormbirds. Ferron did not share their quickness. Instead, he walked over to one of the view ports and admired the planet, and more importantly the beautiful lance/melta batteries pounding the Imperial’s positions.
“Syphon, have the human cattle ready to be deployed the second I touch down. We have much work to do and not much time.” Ferron said to his second.

“It shall be done Taskmaster” the Aspiring Champion intoned before departing

“The rest of you, make way to your storm birds and prepare for departure. Go.” Ferron said, his voice sounding more like 2 mountains colliding than a human’s voice.

Walking alone to the hangar, Ferron stopped in front of his storm bird as his 30 humans stood at perfect attention in front of it. Each one of them was handpicked by Ferron. They were stronger than the other slaves, obedient to him, and were converts to Chaos. All of them were branded with the Iron Warrior’s legion tattoo and the 8 pointed star of chaos. They would serve long enough until he found new humans. 

Barely acknowledging them, Ferron strode up the boarding ramp, his humans trailing behind him taking their seats. Giving the go sign to the pilot Ferron spends the entire time flying to the surface going over pre-battle calculations to kill time. Looking out one of the viewports in the storm bird Ferron can see one of other transports take a direct hit from AA fire. A loud thud and hissing alert Ferron that the storm bird had landed and soon enough the landing ramp enfolded. Walking down the ramp, Ferron took a fresh breath of air from the planet. 

“Syphon, report.” Ferron spoke tersely 

“Taskmaster, the other champions have already landed. Champions Khertos and Furnace are heading East. Champion Kachkor is heading North. Champion Wyvern is heading for the Warsmith’s position.” Syphon voice crackled over the vox.

“That leaves the South for us then.” Ferron responded before killing the connection and turning to his humans.

“We go south. Earn glory or death.” Ferron said grimly.

Slamming clips into their las-guns, the 30 humans formed a protective circle around Ferron. As he made his way down the hab streets, Ferron looked at the decrepit, decaying, habs the pathetic humans that called this home were live in. “Just like the Imperium, projecting absolute strength, but secretly decaying from within.” Ferron mused to himself.


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## Warsmith40 (Feb 8, 2010)

_Iacon's first steps on the planet are heavy and patient. The warsmith is clad in full wargear, the servo arm on his back flexing with a life of its own, his ancient grilled helm upon his head, two amber smoulders glowing in place of his eyes. One of his personal Terminator guards reverently carried his ancient combi-melta behind him, the others forming a perimeter around their leader, combi-weapons trained on the habs ahead.

Iacon lifted an auspex in his gauntleted hand, monitoring the spread of his champions. They made good progress. 20 meters off, he spotted Champion Wyvern's Chosen approaching. His temper grew sour.

"While it is good to know the Warp favoured your descent, Chosen, the enemy lies elsewhere." The amber slits in his helmet flared. "I expect you to be ready to aid the other champions in their advance. It would be unfortunate if clearing this zone was unsuccessful. I would hold someone responsible." His machine arm flexed into a vicious claw. "There are unaided contingents north and south. Aid whomever you favor, Chosen, but I am secure here. Or do you doubt my prowess?" The Terminators near the warsmith tensed. "No matter. Go forth and end the miserable lives of the Imperials. I have other matters to attend to." With that, the warsmith turned and marched toward an ancient Iron Warrior, once a Techmarine, and an adept of the Dark Mechanicus. He _would _have the Legio Maledictum on the field..._

*Kachkor Aurbane:* You proceed north with your warriors, and indeed encounter a garage. Within are three flatbed treads based upon the Chimera chassis. Each is unarmed, but open topped with armor equivalent to its combat cousin. One is unoperable, but the other two are coaxed into life at your warriors' ministrations. Uncomfortable for Astartes, but useful. You mount up for a mobile assault, and upon exiting the garage, the trap is sprung! Imperial Guard veterans set up with camo cloaks engage your warriors after embarkation. Two squads, each with a single meltagun are set up in habs to the east and west. One with a heavy bolter in nestled to the north. You must crush them and clear the zone!

*Furnace & Khertos Asenth:* Proceeding directly toward the fortress-city's wall, you moved through dense hab-blocks. There are several locations which would provide excellent ambush points, but each end up abandoned. Atfer closing in on the maximum range of the wall guns, you stop to take stock of the area. Furnace's signum picks up active machinery, and upon doing so, two of the collapsed habs nearby explode into life, a Hellhound flame tank and Devil Dog melta tank engaging your squads. Two platoons of thirty guardsmen follow from "buried" trenches, obviously drilled in seige ambush. For every ten guardsmen there is one grenade launcher, for a total of six. Destroy the armor and butcher the Imperials, seigeworks must commence!

*Ferron Horrix:* You proceed south, and are disappointed when the enemy ambushes you from obvious locations. A platoon of thrity Guardsmen engages your own contingent. With them is a single missile launcher. However, a complication arises in the form of an Imperial sniper, whose first shot creases your helmet, four centimeters clear of a clean hit. The sniper knows you are a major threat and will attempt to end you. Slaughter the loyalists and end the irritating sniper's miserable life!

*Caesar Wyvern:* The warsmith rebukes your choice of action, and you rankle under the rebuke. Now you are forced to make a decision as reports of engagement with Imperial contingents flow in. Head east and aid Furnace and Khertos against the tanks and guardsment, head south and assist Taskmaster Horrix against the Imperial Guard platoon, or aid Kachkor Aurbane against the ambush in the north. Make haste, the warsmith does not tolerate hesitation!

Be sure to describe the encounters in detail. This particular combat should take two posts from each of you. Make sure you wait until everyone has made thier first post to continue unless determined otherwise. Let battle commence!


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## emporershand89 (Jun 11, 2010)

Wyvern felt the Warsmith’s rebuke like a punch upon his face. “You are pathetic Wyvern, you choose to come running to me when you should be slaughtering the Corpse Emperors soldiers. Now get out there or by Chaos I will dispense of you. Now GO!!!!”

Turning away, Wyvern signaled to his squad and they headed north towards where his brother Kachkor was under ambush from the enemies scout units. After traveling for 5 minutes they started to hear the sounds of a fierce gunfight, and upon rounding a corner they saw that Kachkor’s squad was pinned down. The enemy had some sort of cloaking device o and was running to and fro; using their cloaking device to hide their movements. In addition, two or three melta cannons were firing upon the squad, having taken out the Chimera that was giving them cover against the ambush. Wyvern decided to flank them and signaled for his men to get into the hab units above his brother’s squad.

“Kachkor, this is Wyvern, I’m here to assist you. My squad is moving quietly around the enemies flank. Be advised to shift fire when we come out behind them. Over?????”

(OOC: Farseer, please have your guy react and tell me what to do!)


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## warsmith7752 (Sep 12, 2009)

Furnace and his squad advanced behind Khertos and his squad. Furnace stopped every thirty paces or so to scan surrounding land for imperial guard. The wind was still and the sky clear. All of a sudden his signum beeped he zoomed in on a broken hab with his thermal CPU, it was showing multiple heat signatures “Khertos we have contacts” Yelled Furnace down the vox. Just as Furnace finished speaking all hell was let loose two pieces of armour leaped from the habs and 60 Imperials appeared seemingly from nowhere. Khertos reacted quickly yelling at his troops to get in cover in a natural trench. The havocs didn’t need Furnace to tell them what to do they had practiced situations like this on the battle barge. Limar and Riwor started scything down the infantry with their heavy bolters. Furnace, Binac and Watif ducked for cover in the trench. They would move toward the armour and take it out with their multi-meltas once Limar and Riwor had thinned down the infantry. “Khertos buy me some time we will take out the tanks.” Furnace saw the champion and his squad leap from cover and engage the imperial guardsmen. Furnace was always impressed by the chosen champion, but he didn’t have time to waste.


Furnace and the multi-meltas advanced skirting Khertos and his squad, He commanded Binac to destroy the devil dog while Watif took out the hellhound. Furnace took up a firing position just behind the chosen shooting at the guardsmen with missile launchers and any that attempted an attack on his squad. “In position Sergeant” Voxed Binac “You know what to do” Replied Furnace. It annoyed him slightly that the havoc checked with him before he made any move but he tolerated it because he was a good soldier. A guardsman got lucky and his Watif, he lost his balance and fell over but his armour took most of the damage. Furnace stood pinning his fire on the guardsmen firing at Watif. He glanced over at the burning shell of the devil dog. “I can’t hold this up forever Furnace Hurry up” Yelled Khertos not bothering to vox he was close enough or normal speech. “Good job Binac fall back into cover” Commanded Furnace. He stood still shooting, Watif two paces away from firing distance. A missile flew over Furnaces head and hit into the ground near the heavy bolters sending one flying. “KEEP SHOOTING WE CANNOT AFFORD TO LOSE THIS”


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## Nightlord92 (Jul 7, 2010)

The crunch of Ferron's armored feet echo off the deserted detritus and habs. Each window could hold a possible ambush and Ferron's humans scan each one for possible ambushes. Ferron, however, dismissed them. It would be too easy dispatching Imperial's from those vantage points. Walking down the stretch of road, Ferron stopped as he and his squad came at an intersection. Opposite from him were 2 alleys that could easily have been used as an ambush point. Scanning around, Ferron saw immediately that several windows were open. Halting his humans, Ferron listened to the deathly quiet intently. After several long moments, a single tiny noise Ferron had heard before alerted him of trouble. The sound of the safety being flicked off of a lasgun.

"Ambush!" Ferron's rocky voice boomed as the intersection bursted into chaos.

Coming from the woodwork, 30 Imperial soldiers open fire on Ferron's position. The humans dropped down into what cover they could find and returned fire without missing a beat. Ferron stood in the center of the storm, simply raising his bolt pistol and firing his first shot on the planet, blowing a gaping hole out of one of the ambushers leaders. Firing continuously and only stopping to reload, Ferron dismembered every Imperial in his eye-sights. His humans were even holding their own, sending a fusilade of bright red las-fire into the Imperials.

Ferron was so rapt up in killing that he failed to notice the sudden appearance of a soldier with a missle launcher. Barely avoiding being ignomoniously killed by a rocket, Ferron strided through the las-fire, his armor's paint being scorched and burnt. Barely fitting behind a hab wall, Ferron watched for the smoke trail. It took the sacrifice of one of his humans standing up and dropping 3 imperial soldiers to attract the missle launcher's attention. Firing his rocket, the imperial soldier succeded in killing the human and giving away his position. Following the rapidly dissipating smoke trail, Ferron traced the source to one of the open windows. Breaking from his cover, Ferron emptied his entire clip in the window. Huge gashes and holes opened up from Ferron's attack and as he fired his last round, a bright mist of red bursts from the destroyed window.

Savoring his kill, Ferron began firing once more into the False Emperor's dogs. Ignoring shots that would have felled any of his humans, Ferron and his squad began butchering the Imperial resistance. Ferron began to feel himself growing bored with this however and soon wished for something more entertaining. As if the Gods had been listening to his thoughts, a solid thud pitched Ferron's head back. Feeling against the entry point of the round, Ferron grows frustrated as he feels a ridge carved into his helmet. Sniper. 

Hurriedly, Ferron waded through the corpses, barely avoiding another shot from the sniper's rifle. Taking cover, Ferron began to process his next move dealing with the sniper.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

OOC: warsmith7752, please do not say what my character will do before I do it myself.

Khertos advanced trough the streets towards the fortress-city's wall, scanning the surroundings for signs of enemy's, but seeing nothing.
"This is boring, where are the imperial scum." Khertos growled, at soon as he had said it, a hab wall exploded, and tow imperial tanks drove trough, with about sixty Guards men following them. Khertos started to laugh like a maniac, and starting to charge the guardsmen, he heard Furnance say something about the tanks, but he did not care.
Khertos beheaded the first guardsmen in his way. He then saw that some of the guardsmen had grenade launcher's, he quickly aimed for one, and fired a few times, seeing the guardsman die,
Khertos then killed another guardsman by slashing him over the chest.
The rest of his squad had killed one or two guardsmen each as well, Khertos noticed when looking around quickly. He then saw the marines carrying heavy bolters in Furnance's squad was killing some guardsmen.
"_About twenty down, and forty left. This will be fun._ Khertos thought and started to laugh again.


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## Warsmith40 (Feb 8, 2010)

OOC: Farseer Darvaleth is a little tied up, so here's a mini-update to keep you going:

*Furnace & Khertos Asenth:* The Imperials are taking a brutal beating from your warriors, but their numbers have won them an advantage. The tanks are in range, and the Hellhound has taken aim at Khertos! The guardsmen have pressed in as well, and threaten to overwhelm your Havocs, disrupting your positions with frag grenades. Furnace's squad may either kill several Imperials and suppress the remaining guardsmen before aiding Khertos, or eliminate the Hellhound at the cost of being entangled in close combat. Khertos's squad can face the tank, but stands a great chance of injury, or may attempt to evade the tank's attacks at the cost of being unable to fight.

*Ferron Horrix:* The battle is going in the favor of your slave-soldiers, but the personal threat to you is immense. The sniper has a good angle on you, and the missile launcher is wholly dedicated to your annihilation. If you engage the sniper, the missile launcher is liable to blow you apart; but if you attempt to eliminate the missile launcher, you will be exposed to the sniper! You must decide which is the greater threat and eliminate it.

*Caesar Wyvern:* your squad moves to aid the forces assaulting the wall, but is engaged by a sentinel team dispatched to flank the Havocs and Grand Champion's squad. Numbering three, two have autocannons and one has a heavy flamer. Find a way to end them and proceed forward.


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## warsmith7752 (Sep 12, 2009)

Furnace kept us the fire on the Guardsmen, scything them down with ease, even with their skill there were many guardsmen and they were beginning to push forward, “Furnace the tanks are in range what should we do?” asked one of his havocs. “WE KEEP UP FIRE ON THE GAURDSMEN, PEOPLE DIE FROM KINDNESS SAVE OURSELVES FIRST” Yelled Furnace down the vox. A frag grenade appeared at his side. Furnace gave it a quizzical look before lobbing the grenade over the trench into the guardsmen. Furnace laughed as he heard screams of pain from the guardsmen.

Furnace allowed his signum to appear over the trench and identify the tanks. He switched his Bolter to melta and prepared to fire. He jumped from the trench and took aim. The pulse of energy hit into the windscreen of the tank going through the driver and into the fuel supply at the back. Furnace smiled and turned around to shoot the other tank, before he could shoot a puny human had decided to fight him grabbing his arm in the vein hope of toppling him over. “Die human” Said Furnace as he swung his bolter around to shoot the human in the face. “Do you want some help with the tank Khertos?” joked Furnace.


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