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Hive Primus, Necromunda
A glittering tower, who's spire rises up above the polluted atmosphere, scraping against the stars that the teeming billions below only half believe in. Freighters come and go, bringing in food to support the huge population, and raw materials and leaving with weapons, equipment, the products of the vast factories.
Below the Nobel houses at the top of the hive, where lives are spent in long luxurious diversions, below the Maunfactorums, the chem plants and the vast Hab blocks of workers, is the Underhive, where Arbites of the law seldom tred. Every year, as waste from above trickles down, as more pollutants, effluence and the refuse from above trickles down, it grows. Only rarely is a place reclaimed from the Underhive, for once out of the houses control, the gangs splinter and compete, violently clashing for the rights to levy 'taxes' from the unfortunate population. The local civilian population's only hope is that the Guilders, members of such a powerful organisation that even in the lawless underhive, their courts, their bounties, and their rules hold sway, hires the biggest, most powerful gang in the area as Watchmen.
Unfortunately, for the settlement of greater Rustholm, their Gang of Watchmen have recently had problems.....
With the Collapse of the Stainless Steel Ratz, the Gangs of Rustholm are no longer confined by their power, no longer limited to their traditional little territories. There are choice Rackets to be claimed from other gangs, deals, trades and all sorts of opportunities...
Some parts of Rustholm have lain unexplored for longer than anyone can remember... Who knows what secret treasure might lie there?
Anticlockwise* from the old transit tunnel, the shaky border between the gangs of House Van Saar and Delaque exists only in the mind of the gangers concerned. The ground is dominated by an old side stop on the abandoned bus route. This central building has connections rising into the darkness, where the pipes and cables vanish into the unseen roof. It is alone, like a huge barn or cathedral's knave, with inner ringing gantries projecting into space awaiting doors that will never arrive. It stands separated from the other ruins by clear walkways, marred only by drifting heaps of rubble, ground almost to sand. The other buildings are all ruins, collapsed one and two story plascrete buildings in slightly off set rows, the lines of fire are short and many buildings almost touch, some connected with old planks or metal beams. They are split by a Trail, cutting over demolished hab blocks and running from Clockwise through to the centre, and swinging Corewards, where it eventually peters out in the far distance.
It is along the axis of this trail that the Tunnel Foxes Arrive, expecting to find at least some of the Unfolding Shadow at this disputed point.
*The Map of a Hive having 4 directions, Clockwise (North) Corewards (East) Anticlockwise (South) and Rimwards (West).
There is an eerie silence around the settlements, almost like you could hear a pin drop. The hab domes and odd stall selling rat burger or hot dog in a bun have shut, the dusty ore road is quiet, the easiest road from the slag heap to the monorail, an oft disputed right of way. The Alleyways and alcoves either side of the road are lit with dark shadows and unseen eyes mean neither side can back down
Ronsons' Bar is where Zippo's Brotherhood can often be found. Advancing Corewards down the street towards them are the Ironmen. They must see who's nerve holds as they advance, hands creeping towards their gunbelts. At 16 yards, the silence is deafening, as the gangs advance towards each other, 5 paces, and then the Cawdors reach for their guns first, initiating a violent gun battle as everyone lets lose their first round before reacting to the carnage that will ensue.
Gutter Legion vs Members of the Holy Flame
Anticlockwise from Rustholm Centre, at the edge of the greater Rustholm area lies the Sump Chasm, the old Road having collapsed into the dome below. Where these two gangs meet the buildings are low, only a few on the far Clockwise reaching two stories, most the cheap hab block with a parapet roof accessible by the ladders on the side. In the centre core wards, there is a mass of them connected by planks, almost creating a tunnel system underneath the walkways. A Pool of the Sump has formed to the Rimwards of the field, about 12 yards across with a nasty smell and clear lanes of fire where it has dissolved the cover around it. The Holy flame arrive from the Clockwise Rimwards direction, while the Gutter legion approach from the Anticlockwise Corewards.
Corewards of the precinct house, the abandoned wastes are depopulated, no resources means no reason to live there, and the hab blocks are empty, detached from each other, with rusting razor wire on some. A village clustered around an abandoned well, walled with a palisade, but breached by drifting ash. Each building is dark, and unlit but the whole area feels occupied by a hostile presence.
"I tell you officer, I saw something, something not right" Most individuals would rave, it would almost be better if this prospector did. But he was lucid, and sober, and apparently had some guilder connections, enough to make this a serious report.
"Tarnation, I remember the Plauge of '89, when every man jack of us could spot a shambler a klick away. I saw half a dozen, maybe a few more were hidden."
It could be a fraud, a distraction or diversion to allow a guilder to steal an illegal march over their rivals, maybe one of the gangs planning something big, but it couldn't be ignored, neurone plague, what this old prospector had reported, must be investigated, by at least a 5 man patrol.
In the dark... they hungered. They do not know that they do not know where they come from, or how they wander through the wastes.
The know only hunger, and the pattern of light and shadow that the village registers in their mind tells them soon, soon... food will walk in the door.
Sergeant Horatio Columbo wasn't pleased. They were supposed to be preventing the spread of gang violence and now they needed to deal with Throne-damned zombies.
"Grylls, Glaze, Gellar, and Vasquez, you're with me, ladies."
As he said ladies, he chuckled at Vasquez, the only female on the five-man patrol. She had a good four inches on the others, and was a hell of a sight bigger than himself.
"Grylls, keep that damn dog of yours down. We're maintaining our frickin' distance. Only set the fragger on 'em if they get too close."
Grylls nodded. He didn't bother saluting, what with him carrying too much in the way of gear. Ralfy, his cyber-mastiff, could distract any zombies that got too close, letting the coppers unleash another salvo of shotgun shells and bolt rounds at short range.
"The rest of you, keep it tight. They won't be tossin' bombs at you, they'll be rushin' us, so hold it tight, shield-wall 'em.
Gellar, I want you fraggin' 'em from a distance. Anywhere they might be. Frag any area they could be hidin' wi' that launcher o' yours, before we get there.
Glaze, I want you putting them down as soon as you spot them, with that big gun. As they close, they can eat my plasma, eh?"
They knew the drill, but he repeated it anyway. They would advance, in a tight formation, shields forward. If they were about to pass an area where they could be flanked, a frag grenade would clear the way.
They would attempt to maintain some distance from any structures, as a clear line of sight was to their advantage. However, they were no slouches up close either: They were packing power mauls and suppression shields, after all: Sure, they were designed to incapacitate rioters, but they could destroy a zombie too, if push came to shove.
As they passed the habs, their meltabombs would be used to seal the exits, preventing any ambush or chances of being surrounded. It wasn't perfect, but it was a decent plan.
Columbo didn't need to reiterate their Outbreak Protocol. They were dealing with a zombie plague. That meant that there would be no mercy or second guessing anything they spotted. Once the mission was underway, everything received a 'Terminate: No prisoners' status; even those that were apparently not infected, as anyone could be carrying the disease.
They weren't Adeptus Arbites; it would really screw with their heads if they had to blast the heads off innocent, pure children, but it was necessary. Columbo hated this part of the job, but someone had to do it.
He tried to think positively; maybe the people here would be more accepting of their presence if they put down this infestation. It was unlikely though, they'd likely be trying to find a way to break into the Precinct House whilst they were out. Bastards.
He stamped out his cigar, slamming down the visor on his helm, fitting his respirator properly.
"Right, my wife thinks I've guard duty at the Administratum's offices this evening. If I get eaten, tell her it was a filing error."
Elizah stood up from the panting juve, patting him on the shoulder as he did so.
The juve was terrified and babbling about the shadows, that stinking death was coming.
Elizah walked to his hermit-retreat, flanked by his most trusted gangers.
'What d'you make of it, Deacon? Twists, think you?'
Deacon grimaced and spat. 'Mutant scum. Scavvies, perchance. Mebbe plaguers, too. My lad said he saw one o' them big freaks. Scalies.'
Methuselah, a juve, approached at a respectful distance. He knelt and made the sign of the aquila, only looking up when Elizah gestured for him to speak. 'Holy one. It is as the Deacon says - alla the juvvies and I were out sump fishing; we saw more of 'em coming. Shall I round up the lads?'
Elizah realised that this was the time to show the citizens that his words were not empty, that a tangible threat was coming and that the Members of the Holy Flame had to, in the parlance of the underhive, put up or shut up.
'Gather the faithful - juves, you're with me. Methuselah, my young right hand, go and tell Obidiah to go with the Emperor's light on the right flank. Let him gather his men and give the benediction Then tell Jebediah and his to go towards the left, praise his name. Then return to me here with your kin, young one.'
Elizah revved the engine on his chainsword, then raised it over his head whilst striding forward and shouting 'Praise the Emperor! Death to the mutant heretics!'
Last edited by thegunslinger : 08-05-2012 at 06:59 PM.
Lark saw the draw and instantly called her plan. As one, the three juves fell back to the best piece of cover in the shoddy little neighborhood. Skrugg pushed to the right, Hovak to the left, and Karra dove behind the rusted remains of an unidentifiable chunk of scrap metal. Skrugg leveled his autogun at the leader and took a quick breath in and exhaled slowly before lining up the sights. With any luck, he might be able to injure the leader and gain a morale advantage. Karra and Hovak both trained their pistols on the heavy, hoping the flamer would malfunction and praying for a lucky shot. Lark dropped back a few paces behind the rest and took careful aim with her lasgun on the heavy's chest. Her finger caressed the trigger as she dropped to one knee and prepared to take her shot.
To an outsider, the movement looked like a rehearsed movement. To the Ironmen, it was a beautiful sight, practice making perfect. Now they jsut had to survive being outmatched and outgunned.
With a choreographed grace the like of which had never been seen before outside the likes of traffic collisions and stampedes, the Brotherhood slowly swung into action, Cartier launching a volley of lasbolts optimistically in the direction of Lark, while, flamer in hand, Dunhill lumbered forwards, with rotgut in his tank and promethium in his veins. He'd been in a hurry, and the two containers had looked pretty similar at the time.
Zippo lead the charge, screaming bloody murder with a creative variety of minced oaths (after all, there were children present), swinging his chainsword and hefting his flamethrower, full of enthusiasm and carelessness.
Bic advanced up a little more cautiously, shielding himself with the bulk of Dunhill, ready to pop caps in asses and the like when he got in range.
The Brotherhood's nerve is the first to fail, as they draw first, or swing their weapons up from low ready, they find that this failure has cost them dearly. Both Dunhill's Flamer, and Zippo's hand flamer scorch nothing but the air infront of the hated Orlock gang. Bic's stubber provides noise, but nothing more as his rounds fluy wide
But as his companions miss, Cartier's wild lasbolts hit Lark and bring her down as she snarls orders to the juves. For a moment it seems like the fight has gone out the Orlocks, with only the juves left standing. But the House of Iron produces sturdier youth than that, and they follow the prearranged plan, concentrating their firepower.
Brave the juves might be, but their accuracy is lacking, and both Hovath and Karra miss with their pistols, but Skrugg brings his rounds on target, putting the Cawdor's Heavy out of action for the rest of the fight.
Following the prearranged plan, Skrugg and Hovarth pull back, firing to cover each other, they hit nothing and Hovarth's pistol clicks as the firing pin hits an empty chamber. Still the Juves begin to make their retreat but Lark Ironsoul cannot follow the plan, and her progress is a slow crawl. Karra stays with the downed ganger, and is then caught in combat as Zippo's Brotherhood attempt to take revenge for the affront of the Orlocks, walking on a Cawdor street, and in Cadow turf.
Zippo and Bic charge in, supported by more of Cartier's Lasgunfire, But against all the odds, Kara stands unscathed from the whirling fight, beating back Bic's attack, and surviving the chainsword of Zippo, if only by luck. With two more Orlock Juves about to rush in, Zippo finds that having lost the momentum, his fellows don't have the bottle to stand without the emperors holy flamer to support them and the Brotherhood must back down on it's own turf.
Slagburn's Ironmen held their nerve, and survived the first volley of their foes without flinching, this will be noted by several figures of interest, but not least the Enforcers, shooting up a peaceful settlement, even if you didn't draw first, is never a good move. Soon the street will be quiet and peaceful and empty.
Anna mutters swearwords that would make most imperial guardsmen blush, looking at the faded booklet again. Whatever mad bastard designed the transit tunnels had an obsession with triple-reduncancy when it came to setting up the maintenance shafts. While this does mean that even the centuries of neglect have not managed to seal off all access routes, reading the map of the tunnel network, a small booklet in a dozen different colours, is not easy. She knows that she and the fraction of the group entrusted to her are not making the same speed the larger group led by Rambrand himself can reach. This was why she set out first, but even so the others would probably catch up soon.
Rambrand, meanwhile, was going over his set of plans. Not one to focus wholly on one scheme, he was considering the options his lot could go for should they reach Delaque assets without encountering their neighbors. A raid on one of the many hab domes the Unfolding Shadow allegedly controls would definitely terrify enemies and show that the Tunnel Foxes mean business, but such an overtly hostile stunt would probably draw the ire of more than just the Delaque gang. Doing anything which might antagonize the arbitrators or worse, the guilders while his little lot is still relatively untried would in all probability lead to more trouble than they could handle. Therefore, that plan is labelled at 'C' or so. Trying to cut the Dirty Den off from the rest of Delaque territory seemed to be the best bet. As plan 'A', the two-pronged attack he had come up with should work just fine and secure a lovely source of revenue to boot. Of course, finding the patrol route the Unfolding Shadow must surely take every so often to safeguard their rather expansive and vulnerable turf and laying an ambush was also a feasible idea and while not his first choice, still something he believes he is able to opt for. A solid enough plan 'B' - at the least amusing if they could pull a sneak attack on a Delaque gang.
Whatever the case, they needed to get to a secure location first. He, Anna and the sisters had been at the bus stop before. The Rimwards side of Rustholm had been Van Saar-friendly for a long time. The Red Reapers had held this area as well, in their prime controlling a holestead and a mine very close by indeed. Junior members had often been sent to use the bus stop's building as a watch tower. He remembers his first lengthy chat with Anna happening while the former member of house Escher was still seen as an untrustworthy merc hired to fill in a gap which yet another loss to the Stainless Steel Rats had led to.
Walking close by and clearly following landmarks she recognized more than his footsteps, it seemed obvious that Liria also knew the way. Given how the holestead her parents had made was so close to this place, she probably knew the bus stop even before she was recruited by the Reapers.
Entering the dome, the Foxes kept to cover. While Rambrand does consider this structure a part of their turf, the Delaques had been spotted nearby once before. Rumours that the Unfolding Shadow might think their border runs through this dome - perhaps empty boasts from someone nursing a Rotgut or three at the Dirty Den, perhaps lips loosened by one drink too many, have reached Rita's Rover Repairs.
Anna, having stashed the mini-atlas in a supply closet within the tunnel network, is making preparations to exit the tunnels and head to the rendezvous point. As she opens the rusty hatch however, the veteran spots movement. The others should not be all the way over there. Sure, the figure only glimpsed could just be a random scavenger, but it might just as well be a member of Unfolding Shadow unaware of her presence, insofar. Thus, she changes her plans. While a chance encounter had not been Rambrand's most favoured plan, the gang champions had discussed just such an eventuality and agreed to something of a plan. Anna at the least appreciates the honour of open combat enough to smile, though not insomuch as to give away her position via shouting. Instead, she simply ducks back into the hatch and whispers to the pair accompanying her.
"Hammer and anvil, jus' like in practice, remember?"
While Rambrand's lot might not have noticed the foes quite as soon, their careful approach at the least ought to keep the very worst fire off them, should they be spotted. The Hammer and Anvil stratagem is a one of the oldest within the Tunnel Foxes repertoire, more designed for chance encounters during a patrol than running into an enemy gang on their way to a raid, but one which should work well enough once battle starts, hopefully.
"Fahaaaaaaaawwwghhgk." Lark tries to bark orders, but is still winded by the essentially superficial burns to her ribcage.
"Fall back." Skrugg seemed a new man, his hands flying immediately to check the magazine and action of his autogun without touching any of the hot parts. He was calm, methodical, and already moving away. Without more than a nod, Karra rushed over to try to scoop Lark up, settling instead for gently helping her walk. "Let's go. Rumor has it there's some new enforcers on the block, and nobody is friendly to the guy that just won a gunfight."
Hovath started to holster his pistol, but earned a haymaker to the temple for his pains. Suddenly he was staring down the barrel of a still-cooling autogun. "You get one more chance, kid. Lark did her job, and she took fire. Karra jumped in there and fought off two-to-one, and managed to do it with a single pistol. I killed a damn heavy before he could get in and roast your ass alive, and what did you do. You couldn't even keep you pistol working. I had better see you sitting down with Grimm and Brimm and learning how to take care of your damn weapon."
"You gonna shoot me over a damned jam, Skrugg?"
"No. Everyone gets one. You end up worthless in another fight, and you and your little pistol can fend for yourselves."
Back in the center of Hope, at the Men of Iron Salvage Office Corbin greeted his street soldiers with the traditional gifts of Wildsnake and hookers. "I'm proud of you. Today we saw several of you tried by fire. When an Ironman is wounded, the other Ironmen come to his or her aid. When an enemies threaten, Ironmen work together, and I'll be damned if one of our newest members didn't get his first kill today. Skrugg, come here!"
Skrugg swaggered to the center of the room and hoisted his rifle over his head. "ORRRRRRRRRRRRLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!!! !!" he bellowed by way of a warcry.
Corbin stepped forward and raised his chainsword with one hand. "Today we struck a blow against those Cawdor bastards. Skrugg showed us all what it means to be a Man of Iron, and it is my pleasure to pronounce him a full-fledged member of this gang. Skrugg, tonight is yours to yourself. Take two of the juves with you and do as you see fit. I name you Skrugg Flamekiller, bane of Cawdor. Tonight we drink, we eat, and we celebrate. Tomorrow, the rest of you go to work!" His declaration was met with cheers and groans alike, and he let the revelers go about their business. The conspicuous absence of Lark and Karra was not lost on him. He mused that his strong right hand might be on the path to love once again. Skrugg would make a goo dleft hand, so long as his rigid manner could complement his other gangers. He had chosen well in Skrugg Flamekiller.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the name of the Emperor, who watches over us (although perhaps not as much as he should), to mourn the untimely death of Albert Dunhill. Albert was a family man, who lived life with a smile on his face and a gun in his hand, never afraid to go the extra mile to save others from themselves. Unfortunately, he was unable to save himself from others.
Some may say that going to battle with 13% of your blood by weight consisting of promethium was a bad idea. But Albert was never one to listen to naysayers and doubting Thomases... Thomas'? Anyway. His faith never deserted him, even when his internal organs did. He's now painted across a better place, although Emperor willing we hope to have the worst of the stains out by next week.
He died a hero and a warrior, the way he would have wanted. He died honourably. He died as an example to us all of how to live our lives - with less inflammable liquid in our veins, but also as tireless servants to the Emperor. And tomorrow, at the dawn of a new day, his friends and family with give him the requiem he always wanted.
WITH FIRE AND SWORD WE WILL DRIVE THE APOSTATES FROM OUR PROMISED LAND AND WREAK GLORIOUS VENGEANCE FOR THEIR SINS!
Also, everyone meet Albert Dunhill senior. He's come all the way from the mid-hive to take vengeance on the bastards who killed his son. Albert, if you don't know where anything is, don't hesitate to ask me or any of the other boys."
"Slow down, and tell me again," Caesar said slowly, his patience clearly waning.
Mange nodded, his thin, matted beard shaking as he caught his breath, leaning his thin frame on his home-made scattergun. "Gangers, boss, bunch o' 'em. You know the kind, what wear the masks?"
Caesar nodded thoughtfully. "Caws..." he muttered softly.
He looked at what remained of his gang, the scraggly bunch looking at him, not saying a word. Those who had guns of any sort held them close, not trusting their comrades not to steal them and make off into the night. Only the scalies looked at ease, with Lizard seeming to be almost bored, while Zeus looked positively excited. Again Caesar shuddered involuntarily, well aware of just what Zeus was looking forward to.
He looked out at the beautiful underhive before him, full of in tact buildings, streets that could be identified as such, and rooms which could easily be called habitable. All luxuries virtually unknown to scavvies. He licked his parched lips beneath his mask, inadvertently fogging the broken glass lenses. Swearing beneath his breath he looked about for something to wipe his mask clean with, and settled on snatching a ragged scarf from Letch, who make a sound of protest.
Throwing the now dirtier rag back at the scavvy, Caesar scratched his bald, spotted head in thought. He suddenly struck upon a plan. Looking back to his gathering, he grinned beneath the rebreather, "Whose hungry?"
Yellow, mismatched teeth met him in a sea of inhuman grins. He hadn't noticed before, but Zeus's teeth were actually filed to points...
Gutter Legion vs Members of the Holy Flame
From the Sump Chasm to the south, scuttling into what might, optimistically, be called the nicer parts of the under hive, the Gutter Legion surge forth, splitting into three groups. The Majority scuttle forth into the streets leading too the nest of connected hab blocks, grabbing what cover they may. Others stay out of sight and range, flitting behind the buildings, towards the Rimwards sump pond.
Members of the Holy Flame begin climbing the tall buildings that occupy the Clockwise edge, their Heavies deploying in two groups, supported by gangers, those with shotguns occupying the higher levels, even in the precarious top story, while the heavies are ready to clear the streets infront of them with holy fire from the first story. As the scavvies get close enough, occupying the edge of the dark hab block nest, the shotguns open fire, their overwatch bringing Twitch down with a solid slug fired from Decon's smoking barrel, while Puritanius's hotshot round begins to smolder in an old plastic girder and Death to Xenos bounces lead off the overhead cover provided by a metal walkway above Caeser's head.
Grabber, Hack, and Thump split off from the tunnel like overhead cover, heading rimwards, accompanied by the jibbering ghoul, baiting it with a last bit of raw flesh from last feast night. The go right across the streets covered by Gabriel,Harumash and Abraham's overwatch. Hack is hit by the hot shot, it's fire wrought pain putting him down. Harumash misses completely, the lead slug bouncing into a wall far from it's target, and Abraham's old shotgun, an ancient break open affair, blasts louder than a bolter, Smashing both it's own lock and Thump down.
Grabber takes cover, and seeing his friends down, bleeding on the floor, he beats a hasty retreat in the cover of a side alley, running for his favourite hole. The Ghoul holds it's nerve, if a twisted being such as they could have nerve.
Advancing from the Sump pool the Scaly, Lizard, aim's his mighty spear gun, and sights through a gap in the cover, on two of the masked cawdors. The first, luckless Abrahams still gawping at his survival from the misfire, is brought down by the spear punching through him, sewing him to the wall, missing a stitch through Gabriel by an inch. Instead of reeling him in like a 3 eyed plaice on a gaff arrow, the Scaly charges forth accompanied by Gob and Shivers.
Lurch& Goggles remain at the edge of the sump, clawing what cover they can from the half dissolved buildings, and opening up with their crude autoguns, though they fail to down the heavy, Lurch inflicts a nasty flesh wound on Jebediah, with shrapnel from his last magazine of rounds, running the gun empty and Jebediah is pinned by the fire from Goggles.
Caesers autopistol rounds are the only ones that can reach from the protection of the tunnels, and he provides "covering fire" for the rest of his clan, as they dash across the street. But he seems more concerned with remaining in cover, and waving his arm wildly spraying bullets from round the corner doesn't put off the Cawdor forces, who open up, from the first and second stories shot guns splitting down hot lead which pins the Ghoul across the street, preventing it from joining the Scavvy charge. This might be fortunate, as Obediah sweeps his flamer across the street, getting Caesar, Letch, and even Zeus with the flame's blast, while Waste is bathed with promethium putting him out of action. The Pinned Scavvies are then stunned again, when the more gunfire from the ground floor pours out. Elizah's stub gun brings down Letch and A lucky shot from Thrones Servant wounding even the mighty Scaly, casuing Zeus to cry out. Before the charge could be made by either the chanting Cawdor, or the tall buildings could be scaled on the rimward side of the conflict, the Gutter Legions Bottle fails them, and they melt away from the rising volume of the Holy Flames Hymn.
The last of the Scavvies melted into the darkness, gibbering and cursing thickly.
Several of their number turned to make obscene gestures at the Cawdors - their leader pausing to spit and scowl as well - before retreating out of sight.
Ezriah smiled widely - even if Abraham did go to meet the Emperor, this was surely a good day for the Holy Flame. A larger gang seen off with heavy losses - perhaps losses enough that this lot will limp off further into the underhive to lick their gangrenous wounds. Not a bad blooding.
Whistling loudly, Elizah called back the two groups that he had split off to either side. As they began to walk back in, he could hear plain-song chanting from both groups - though he was prepared to make a benediction for their loss, regardless. Nothing like a reminder that without the Emperor's blessing and His light, the Cawdors were no better than the mutant heretics that they had defeated. Of course, the Emperor also had his chosen instruments and on this day, there would be few who doubted that he was one.
To his utter amazement, as he counted the gangers back in, pausing with a grin and a muttered psalm for some, a clasped hand an a sign of the aquila for others, he saw Abraham bringing up the rear. His shotgun was blackened and useless and no doubt he'd still be seeing double. That paled in comparison to the giant, jagged spear-hole that by all rights should have left him bleeding out in moments - if indeed he hadn't been reeled in by that Scaly like a juve with a sump rat.
Abraham grinned weakly at his gang leader, raising his hand in greeting. He was going to survive, but no one walks away from that sort of injury without feeling it keenly.
Elizah returned the smile and turned to his gang 'See, brothers! The Emperor protects!'
Precinct 14 Patrol Beta investigates Suspicious Activity
Heading out away from the lights of Greater Rustholm away from the tracks and noise of the Monorail, the 5 man team, with probably the finest gear in this sector of the underhive heads towards the reported trouble spot.
It was quiet, until Enforcer Geller opened up on the nearest open doorway, placing a frag grenade through the door, a perfect bounce through the door way putting it out of sight...
...the Patrol pauses at the edge of the village, blocking the largest gap in the fence and look up as the Grenade Blossoms into fire and over pressure, blasting the two zombies in the room to the floor, one of them into multiple parts on the floor.
With the blast and noise, the rest of the buildings vomit forth their plague bearing squatters. Stretching out like a Grotesque Conga, 4 more neurone plague victims appear and the 5th crawls onwards, still smouldering from the grenade blast.
Enforcer Glaze then opened up, his sustained fire walking across the line, 3 of the zombies visibly hit, but only two of them go down, the third ignoring the rounds that shatter it's sternum.
Mindless, without fear or hesitation, the plague zombies continue their advance, slowed by the terrain, their uneven gait splitting them into the group of two standing abominations, and the rest, laid out but still crawling.
Enforcer Vaquez then took her turn, her boltgun spitting rocket boosted rounds, but like the mindless beasts they are, the plague victims ignore the explosions as they spang off the ruins around them.
Enforcer Glaze again opened up, the heavy stubber chattering through the last links of ammunition that burdened him. Twice more he hit the closest zombie, finally the weight of fire almost chewing it in half.
Enforcer Grylls advanced with his Sargent and Cyber Mastiff, Ralfy. There was no way for the Plague Zombies to get past their supression shields, and Ralfy bounded onto the nearest neurone plauge victim, bringing it down with a vicious bite to what was left of it's hamstrings.
From the crawling, writing mass of zombies, one disentangles itself from the dusty ruins, and staggers to it's feet. A former Goliath, this individual is missing most of it's features, but it's teeth gleam as along with the remaining upright zombie, they pounce on the cyber mastiff. Between them, the clumsy undead manage to knock it over but can do no more damage as Sgt. Horatio Columbo, along with Enforcer Grylls, smash into them with their gunfire. Plasma burns what is left of the former Goliaths face off, and an executioner round, despite not having time for it's machine spirit to identify it's target, brings a lethally accurate round through the others skull.
The following sweep was quick and efficient, and saw all the correct decontamination procedures followed, and the official warning notice to any settlers who tried to reclaim the old habs.
Now, all they had to do was get back to the Precinct House. There was paperwork to do.
"You know, it cant be healthy to do this, everyday. Although i suppose not having it explode on your hands is probably healthier." Jack says as he looks upon Harry as he uses the tools in his father's workshop, his eyes drifting slightly as he watched with some apprehension the usual maintenance that the Heavy Plasma Gun needed. "No doubt, but its as you say Boss. Better safe in the future than slightly dangerous now" his grin as he banged slightly on the power pack was precipitated by a twitch in Jack at the slightly rough treatment "Well, do hurry up while i go check how things are around here." with that and a swish in his coat he leaves, heading towards the Ol'Heller.
As he walked across the settlement accompanied by his some of his gang members his eyes took his surroundings in. As always interesting sights abounded, a stall there selling a particularly interesting piece of technology, a pickpocket eyeing his mark, a vicious beating being done by Lex. As he continued for a few moments longer his mind stalled slightly as he reworked his last thought. Lex beating someone? he mulled over that statement for a few seconds until like a flash of a Plasma Explosion he finally understood, feeling slightly idiotic as he turned around to the amusement of his companions who had stopped already but where waiting for him to catch up. He eyed them with a slight glare, punctuated with a noise of a fist hitting flesh followed by a loud*Spleen* at that his mind Hiccuped slightly as his head twisted slightly towards Lex and the savagely beaten man, with just cause he decided, if only to avoid suffering the same fate, he mulled over what he would say as Lex unleashed a particularly devastating combination of punches that left the men groaning and begging for help.
"Lex. May i ask why you are 'helping' this man?" his eye twitched slightly as she gave a particularly vicious kick in the man's nether regions before turning towards him "Nothing much boss. This idiot tried to coop a feel." her glared precluding any amusement such a thought would normally incite, at least any that showed on their faces, although if one looked closely upon their eyes they would find a twinkle "Perhaps its best if you followed us. We are heading to Ol'Heller for an update." and without waiting for a response he turned with his jacket seemingly twisting in a dramatic fashion, Lex only rolled her eyes at the customary dramatics her boss usually employed.
As they travelled onwards nothing of much interest happened, except a man being thrown out of a window by a particularly burly woman and flying head first into a small ditch, as they passed the house the burly woman burst out lamenting her temper, his mind recoiled slightly at the sight of the generous moustache that stood prominently in the woman's face, his pace quickened considerably. Until at last they arrived at Ol'Heller's house one of the towns 'leaders', if one considered the slightly insane and gossipy old man that, he sat as always in a rickety old chair outside his home.
As they approached closer while still maintaining a distance to prevent the dreaded cane from reaching him Jack called out "Ol'Heller you old goat anything interesting to say?" barely avoiding the cane thrown out as he woke up and screamed out in response "G' bo'er so'one ese! Y Idjit!" with that happy beginning the discussion soon devolved into the customary insults and barely understood sentences, the gist of wich was to go search out towards the old side stop up near the border with the Tunnel Foxes. As he sent a few men to gather the rest of the gang for a small outing he forgot about Ol'Heller, something he regretted as soon as the cane impacted with a vicious *Twang* on the back of his head, vengeance would he his as the obnoxious laughter of old man was heard.
Anna the former Escher, along with her Heavy bolter exited the tunnel under the central bus stop. She was trailed by Matt and Allis, who cradled their lasguns under their arms in a way that made it clear why House Van Saar was the No. 1 choice for the Imperial Guard Conscription Commissars. Now inside the Structure, they quickly climbed the ladders and gantries, Matt taking up a position on the first floor, looking out the window nearest the staircase, he can see the curve of the street as it goes corewards, as well as the open space around the isolated Bus Station. As he covers the view, Anna and Allis climb higher.
Rambrand Von Mittensee, Honore with his Plasma Gun quietly, ominiously humming and Lira are lead by the Juves, Halbret and Tavin Von Mittensee who scout ahead as the gang cuts off the corner of the path, taking up positions on the Clockwise side of the street covering the empty corewards road that is the dividing line. As the get into position, Matt loses a Lasgun bolt, the Delaques have occupied the Anticlockwise side of the street, all the buildings opposite .
The Delaques have occupied the Buildings opposite, Jack & Winfred
and Nathan & Henry as two man teams supporting each other. Jack's Bolter Cracks out a shot first, but the Van Saar's are well hidden. Winfreds Lasgun catches the movement of a flinch, like scaring up ripperjacks on a cull and snaps off an accurate shot, inflicting a flesh wound which will render Halbret's aim even worse than it normally is.
Henry's plasma gun blast burns the street between the two gangs, almost illuminating their disputed border and Nathan's Lasgun fares no better.
Anna and Allis have climbed to the upper gantry level, from here, the old ornamental balcony has an air of decayed grandeur, as well as an excellent view of the battle field. From their vantage point, they can spot the Delaques heavy, setting up a Plasma Cannon that would dominate the street and shoot down into the cover occupied by the Foxes. Allis's Lasgun snaps up into a shoulder and firm cheek weld, pinning the Heavy into what cover he can get on the top of the hab block. Anna has time to set up the heavy bolters bipod and open's up, smashing the two gangers who have followed the heavy up to the top. Lex is Out of Action, and it looks like Mike is Down for now. Harry, pinned by fire, grits his teeth and edures behind his patch of cover.
Melta fire from Rambrand Von Mittensee, hits the building, showing why it's called a vape gun as some of Winfred's cover is eaten away, Honore with his Plasma Gun ominiously humming allows the sound to build as he charges the capacitors, and discharges it, a powerful burst pulsing across the Clockwise street, exceeding the destruction wrought by the melta as Nathan is caught by the second of three globs of star fire. putting Nathan down.
Lira and the Juves, Halbret and Tavin who open up the pistol fire following Lira's Lasgun shot, which follows through the newly made gap to hit Winfred, a carefully picked target over closer, but less visible Unfolding Shadow Gangers. Winfred Pinned in his shrinking cover, Halbret hits and downs the Delaque, emptying his laspack, and then replacing it despite his unsteady, blood slicked hands.
Jack, the Unfolding Shadow leader, holds his gangs nerve as they see their fellow down. But then Anna's Heavy Bolter opens up again, the explosive bolts blowing apart the structural integrity of the Hab Blocks. Allis and Mike's Lasbolts patter into the window edges, and then Rambrand Von Mittensee's Melta spits out again hitting Jack, and wounding the Delaque Leader. With their leader down, the fight leave the Unfolding Shadows, who seem to fold away, back into the shadows.
The Boundary Line has moved, and again the Side Station Belongs to House Van Saar.
File in triplicate. Always in Terra-damned triplicate.
That being said, it didn't take too long for Columbo to fill out the forms, seeing as there were no casualties or odd goings-on.
Hell, Glaze outdid himself with that big cannon of his and the plan went perfectly. Health and Safety would be pleased indeed. Well, they wouldn't be pleased, they'd had that part of the brain lobotomised, most likely. They wouldn't be irritated, which was their usual mood.
Anyway, the locals seemed less terrified, too. They weren't grateful, they hated cops, and probably rightly so, after that beat-down six months ago. Ah well, all effluent under the gangway now, right?
Time for a smoke, thought the Sarge, as he relaxed, playing cards with his squad, unless those Cawdor bastards had caused some sort of wildfire.
'Pilgrims to the right! To the right, damn your eyes, get out of the frakking way' bellowed Jebediah, pushing his way through the line of settlers trickling through the gang's territory. 'And the next one of you who doesn't show the proper respect is getting some Emperor-blessed boot leather where it'll hurt, see if it doesn't!'
Jebediah turned back through the throng to see Aquila and Throne's Servant leaning against a hab-stack, sharing a lho stick and laughing about something inane, no doubt. 'You two! Shift your mangy arses and get this crowd moving! We don't have all damned day!'
Aquila ground out the stick beneath his heel and took up his place along the side of twisting line of habbers moving through. 'Come on then, stir your stumps. We've got a stretch to go, then you lucky lot get the blessed duty of shovelling out the scav-ruins. Remember - honest toil is the Emperor's currency!'. The juve grinned at the scowls of the new settlers. He knew that they couldn't complain too much. Yes, it was going to be a disgusting job reclaiming the wastes back from being a scavvy-den to something approaching a settlement, but how many underhivers could claim a new spot for their very own without too much blood being spilled?
With the Delaques fleeing, the professionalism of the Tunnel Foxes still-relatively-green team crumbles away. Even Rambrand is cheering, though him with at least enough sense to re-holster the dangerous Meltagun. Honore, however, is as giddy as the juves, laughing about the Delaque ganger who was dragged off by retreating fellows, clutching a face which had received a generous plasma bath. While a full-powered shot might have boiled the head off instantly, the necessity of pausing to recharge his gun while stuck in the middle of a fight that could still go either way is not one he relishes.
As Anna and her fire team leave tower building, the heavy exiting later and walking slower while the other two practically run, they are met with outright hugs.
Liria, clutching her younger sister, is smiling: Ma and Pa taught you better than I thought. You lot kept them huddling their piece of cover.
Slightly abashed, the other woman, barely more than a girl replies: "Anna did most of the work. Me and Matt just helped a bit"
Tavin and Matt were also congratulating one another, though via ribbing more than anything. "So, are your security guard skills any good down here?"
You tell me cousin. I didn't exactly see you getting shot while you were jogging down to a gunfight as freely as if you heard it was half off on Wildsnake on the market.
"Put a sock in it."
Meanwhile, Rambrand is talking with his second in command and long-time comrade, both of them with an arm on the other's shoulder. Both of them in possession of enough weight gun-wise, they've stashed their weapons on their backs.
"Beautiful work Anna. I mean, the tunnels worked as they should, but getting to that balcony before showing them we're here, that was smart."
"Pfft. Just common sense. We've both been here before, we know the structure. The balconies are the best places to be when my job's giving some dip**** a permanent bolt rain."
"Really? I always just preferred the windows. A nice sturdy structure like that, I can shoot out without fearing anyone who hasn't got some big anti-material cannon."
"It's more fun just to have a nice generous angle which lets me put 'em down before they get return fire."
"Right. Regardless, Good work n'all, but we're wasting time."
Stepping back and raising his voice, Rambrand addresses the entire gang.
"The Shadows are on the run. Last I saw them, they were dragging off bleeding or charred buddies. Worst case scenario, most of them are too messed up to bother us for a while. Best case, half of them are dead and the rest leaderless. We don't go back home now. We are still on the offensive. The Dirty Den is a crystal mine and the way there is wide open. Anna, the map?"
Having returned to the tunnels to retrieve it before the gang even regrouped, the Escher-born ganger gladly hands the throne-damned booklet over.
"Right here. The kid should get his arm looked at though. Also, everyone probably knows we're here now."
"You're right, we shouldn't get cocky. Rushing to some location with our entire force just means that our own assets are uncovered and a fleshwound can still get infected. Liria, you know the way, take the juves back to Rita's. You can hold the fort against lone scavvies by yourself, I'd think. The Unfolding Shadow guys, pretentious name and poor mettle aside, still held onto some damn good turf from what I've heard. This might only have been a part of their gang. Still, we should be able to take any guards of any individual structure no problem."
Liria, while irked to be left out of the rest of the mission, still understands and accepts that she is being given effective command of a third of the gang. The new kids might be soft boys from the safer parts of the hive city, but at least they didn't run off at the first sound of gunfire. They might become proper gangers yet. As she prepares to leave though, she hears her sisters voice.
"We could go to Fungusbreath Village instead. That's not too far."
Rambrand too is surprised by Allis' comment. While Liria smiles, he frowns quizzically.
"Fungusbreath village? I've not even heard that name."
I do chief. Now that I think about it, Allis is right. One of the hab domes not far from this bus stop is still inhabited. Unless I've missed something, the Dirty Den is in Rustholm proper, so we've a way to go. We could go to either one.
Eager that her suggestion is being considered, Allis goes on.
"That hab's been changing names more than an outlaw scummer. Pa just called it Fungusbreath's Village, after a chief he did business with way back when."
Matt, anxious to get a move on somewhere, pipes in.
That gamblin' den will give us more guilder cred than any village could. Rambrand's plan was hitting the den, so that's what we do.
Rambrand himself, however, is less than eager to have some rivalries develop between his gangers and has come up with an idea.
"I don't need my authority propped up. What I say goes, but if that village is there, that's new info for me. The Delaques are expecting a hit on the Dirty Den. They are gathering whatever remaining assets they've got there. Allis, If you are sure you can find a way to that village, we can take it over easy. This is allegedly all Shadow turf, so they likely consider it theirs - we've got an open road to a settlement without guards of its own. A casino will give us more creds, but taking an entire settlement, even a village, will get us respect."
The discussion finished, the five gangers head southwards instead of corewards, with Rambrand keeping half an eye on the bus route maintenance atlas to try and identify where probable intact tunnels might be relative to their position. They don't need those now, but that does not mean such knowledge couldn't come in handy later. Soon enough, they reach the settlement.
While they might have travelled with any weapons holstered, the village is entered with everyone holding onto at least one piece. Rambrand, unwilling to tax the melta more, is holding his lasgun. Not expecting anyone to be stupid enough to make her spend ammo though, Anna is swinging her heavy bolter around instead of opting for the pistol. Spotting the Delaque snakes hanging from an archway between two particularly large and intact buildings in the centre of the settlement, Rambrand quickly fires off a few shots, putting three holes through the sign. The laspulses are strong enough that it falls off one of the chains attaching it to the arch, leading to the sign hanging haphazardly.
"All right you lucky lot! You have just been liberated from the bald turds of House Delaque by yours truly and company. This village is now under the protection of the Tunnel Foxes. Do right by us, pay for our services and fall in line and we will see you prosper."
"However, if any of you have some empty loyalty to the Unfolding Shadow boys, you start running for whoever of theirs is still alive right now, or come out and fight like proper Necromundans! Try something sneaky and you and your family are nailed to a wall, literally. Sound fair?"
The Van Saars do spot a few particularly pale and bald villages slinking about and muttering, but from the looks of things, this hab dome has been part of the underhive for long enough that most of the people have forsaken most of their house ties. Mixed breed born-and-bred underhivers are more common than people who could be identified as belonging to any one house. For a time, there is no real reply. People shuffle their feet and look around, waiting for something. To the more seasoned members of the Tunnel Foxes, even Honore, the villages hesitation is logical. They expect their current Delaque masters to have at least someone nearby who'd challenge the new gang. Rambrand lets them get away with this. It's better to break in a new territory via letting the locals get disappointed by the lacklustre performance of their old bosses.
At last, an old man, barely able to stand upright even with his cane, gives a slight nod to two youths. As one climbs the archway to remove the now broken Delaque sign, another goes into what looks to be a storage shed. The second youth returns soon enough, an emblem with a faded representation of the Van Saar spider carried aloft.
Anna smiles. Chances are, that storage shed has symbols to represent all the major houses and probably some of the older gangs. Rambrand though muses on them likely needing to come up with and make publically known a true Tunnel Foxes-specific symbol.
A few days later, the majority of the Tunnel Foxes are back at Rita's. Halbert, intent on proving that his flesh wound has already healed, has crafted a punching bag in one of the abandoned storage sheds and is training on one of the rare hours when none of the senior gangers can think of a better job for them. Tavin is also resting, though for him it's just laying down. While Liria had taken hitting up the slag on herself in theory, she had in effect dragged the juve along to do the manual labour while she watched out for Delaque opportunists or Orlock goons who might consider the rimwards side of the slag to be theirs.
Matt and Rambrand had gone off that morning (or so - whether the repair shops clock is accurate or not can hardly be determined in the underhive), providing cover to the Van Saar's guilder ally in exchange for a handful of creds. Allis, who had earlier tried her hand at learning some mechanical skill from Anna, was standing guard, pondering. She was still unsure of the new girl. Haggard and fidgety, the juve looked more like a scavvy than anything else. Allis herself and her sister had been underhivers for most of their life and yet could still be readily recognized as members of house Van Saar from their manner and garb. Rambrand had taken this wretch back to the hideout a day ago, after yet another trip to the village she had led them to. Still fearful, the new member of the team was huddled in a corner, though her behaviour turned almost sycophantic the moment any of the gangers, even the other juves, addressed her. Still, Allis supposed, at least no creds had been wasted on kitting the girl out.
With the recent events still fresh in every resident of Rustholm's mind, the atmosphere is tense. Tensions between those still affiliated with a house are rising and those unaligned are still feeling the disruption of the gang violence, though the major settlement is of course unaffected by who really controls outlying hab's, the influence and power that control can give has made or broken gangs rise to power in the past.
Members of the Holy Flame Defend against the Unclean! Zombie Raid
The Settlement of Redemption is surrounded by a low parapet wall, chest high in most places, constructed from rubble and reclaimed materials, the few buildings still sound were incorporated into it's defence, and at the Anticlockwise edge, a stout gate, with higher walls each side, opens towards the sump.
Away from the settlement there are low ruined buildings, none left more than One storey high, many only the ruined remnants of the walls, often where Members of the Holy Flame had repurposed the materials for their new settlement or it's defences. Rimwards, many of the low buildings are still connected by a warren of walkways. Most of the Forces of House Cawdor are away, but Elizah, Jebediah, Obediah and Gabriel patrol the wall, or keep watch from the buildings on the perimeter or gate.
Gutter Legion vs Zippo's Brotherhood Scavengers
Some say McAdams Spore mine was abandoned because a great pit opened up underneath McAdams, and McAdam's mining carts, swallowing him down into the sump. Some say it was the Rockfalls, crushed his skull when one of the sheds he was in was partially collapsed. Others think it was when the Spore's finally rotted out his lungs.
Now the fungus tree's grow, like huge toadstools, coloured and spotted in many variations of every colour known in the underhive. Within the Fairy Rings they form, many rare fungi can be found, if you know what you are looking for.
The Rockfall's are huge boulders, where they intersect with buildings, they can be climbed to reach the top, The rail tracks are McAdam's old mining lines, and would of intersected where now only the darkness of an unknown depth remains, crossed by a walkway most precarious between two of the old rickety sheds. The Corewards building is the burned out remains of McAdam's Equipment hanger, and it's charred roofbeams cross the empty space between the two sides, while the two storey watch tower looks out across the cavern. Clockwise of the watchtower are some of the old hab blocks that McAdams, or someone, used to inhabit. Towards the Clockwise Rim, the only thing rising above the Fungus Trees is the old Water Tower, now overgrown with mold, it's rusty ladder is precarious, but seems sturdy enough.
The Gutter Legion approach from the Corewards, while Zippo's Brotherhood approach from the Rimwards side.
Unfolding Shadow vs Tunnel Foxes
Amid the ruined buildings and rusty walkways, Unfolding Shadow have walked into an Ambush. All three groups of them are caught in the centre of the mess of ruined high towers and low hab blocks, as they cross underneath the highest walkway around.
The Tunnel Foxes have occupied cubby holes and hide aways in the darkness, far out of view of the Unfolding shadow, readying their weapons to leap out and open up on the unaware enemy. Their positions need to have good positions to fire from, but if they are too close, they risk alerting the Delaques that the ambush is about to be sprung.
Precinct #14, Patrol Beta vs Slagburn's Ironmen
Abandonment has destroyed this part of the Underhive wastes. What could once have been habitable has been rendered desolate by neglect, though no one recalls what lead to this areas depopulation. The Hab Blocks are Empty, the towers precariously sway with every hive quake. Piles of Rubble renders some roof tops accessible and buries some doors completely. But it's here that the Orlocks encounter the Enforcers....
On this new day, blessed as it is in the Emperor's name, the Brotherhood stand ready to defend the faithful against the great unwashed masses: the scavvies. With supreme tactical planning, granted by a vision from the Emperor himself, Zippo has chosen the old abandoned mine for the useful but unnecessary advantage it would give the brotherhood. It was nothing to do with the rumors of potentially lucrative hallucinogenic fungi that could be found in the area.
Nothing at all.
Liberally draped in some very familiar looking sheets of paper, bearing psalms to the Emperor, and benedictions upon his warriors, the Brotherhood began its inexorable approach. Up in the battered remains of a double block on the Rimwards side of the mine, the faint sound of swearing could be heard as Cartier, with the aid for his cleaver, tried to re-zero the sights on his lasrifle.
Beneath him (somewhat literally in Cartier's opinion), Zippo was performing a cursory check on the equipment of his brothers. After a heated discussion (very literally, this time), it was decided 7-2 that the paper would have to go. It had an altogether unfaithful tendency to go up in flames every time they got near a pilot light. Still, as Zippo remarked, at least they didn't pay anything for them.
The gang slowly shifted gear, switching from jokey, fun-loving psychopaths to angry, murdery psychopaths. With an efficiently you'd not have expected of such a motley bunch, they split off into their sub-groups and set about making the Imperium a better place, chunk by scorched chunk.
Zombies IC Post
There is a reason why underhivers had made their settlements far from the Scrofulous Waste, a reason why the area had until recently been scavvy territory, unfit for any decent being.
The Reason is currently shuffling towards the gates of the settlement.
No one knows what causes the Neurone Plague Outbreaks to wax and wane. Some say it is when the Factories Midhive dump extra heat into the sump, others when the effluent runs a particular colour from the waste pipes and some whisper that it is Karloth Valois, returned from the Abyss with a horde of zombies at his beck and call.
In this case though, the heat and light and noise has drawn the shambling, hungry, victims of the Plague towards the settlement. They seem to be coming out of the ground and the buildings themselves as the Cawdor Sentry sees them only one or two buildings away.
Jebediah stretched and yawned. Throne, but guard duty was boring. His flamer resting next to him, he used it as an impromptu hand warmer as he stared out over the hastily-built parapet that was the Underhive's newest settlement. Not that staring out there did much at this point, the pilot light from his flamer ruining his night-vision. Horus take it, anyway. Nothing out there except sump-rats and moldering scavie bones after the fight to take the place.
Feet hitting the ramp up the walkway next to him signalled the arrival of Gabriel. 'You're a twitchy little bugger, aren't you?' said Jebediah, without rancour. Gabriel grinned as he hefted himself up to the top part of the wall. What could he say? He was a twitchy little bugger. The last fight had taught him that hitting faster and more often was probably the way to go about surviving in the underhive. He hadn't put that into practise just yet, still armed with the shotgun he had shoved ahead of him as he climbed up, but he was hoping to demonstrate that he was more capable than your average ganger, just as soon as he had the chance. Having the creds to get a weapon worth a damn close in would be nice, too.
'Aye, I am.' said Gabriel, scratching his cheek underneath his mask. 'But at least I know not to stare at a light while I'm meant to be looking into the dark, you lummox.' Gabriel ducked under the cuff that was coming his way and danced off to the side a bit. He picked his nose and flicked it at Jebediah, who was back to warming his hands. 'That goes double when there are plaguers out there.'
Jebediah spat. 'There ain't no frakking plaguers out there. We's just up here to give the happy clappies below us something to point at and pray about.'
Gabriel frowned slightly. 'Care to wager something on that then? I bet you 5 creds that we'll be up to our necks in something before the shift is out.'
Jebediah turned to him, clicking the pilot light off. 'You're on. But instead of 5 creds, I want that medallion of Sanguinius you got. Had my eye on it.'
Turning back down towards the settlement, Gabriel smiled. 'Not a worry, my promethium-drinking friend. You should probably get the creds ready for me now, then'
'Oh aye, should I? An' why's that?' growled Jebediah.
'Because Elizah and your other giant mate are on their way like the Traitor Legions were up their arse - probably because they heard that over there while you were busy warming your balls.' As he said it, Gabriel pointed back over the wall, where the first plague zombies were ambling towards them, growling and gnashing their teeth.
Jebediah turned to see what Gabriel was pointing at, hefting his flamer. The plague zombies were pulling themselves up out of the depths, twisted and rotting forms snarling in the darkness.
Laughing a deepthroated laugh, Jebedia turned to Gabriel 'aye lad, well played - I'll leave ya the creds in my will!'
Last edited by thegunslinger : 08-13-2012 at 06:01 PM.
"Ironmen, stir yer stumps and move yer rumps. Brimm, Grimm, I want every weapon checked and double checked in five minutes. Lark, Skrugg, on me. everyone else be ready to move in ten!"
Lark and Skrugg joined Corbin at the main table, where Corbin was already unrolling a hand-sketched map of their slice of the world. He searched with his finger for a minute before wiping away a spray of spittle from his chin. "Here. Some scabs been talking, said there's an informant here meeting with some enforcers. Should be only a handful. Word on the street is that the enforcers are trying to finger us for that shoot-out the other day with those Cawdor maniacs. I want them DEAD! We'll move out as soon as we can. I mean to get there first and be nice and settled when these scum show up." Corbin growled, a throaty rumble that echoed through his exposed teeth. "Thoughts? Questions?"
"We need a plan." Lark pointed at some of the buildings with her knife. I don't want to go out there without everyone knowing what's going to happen once we get there."
Skrugg slapped the butt of his autogun on the table. "Nope. Those building are too deteriorated, too flimsy to try to plan anything out from these maps. Like as not we'll get there and fin that what looks good on these is shot to ****."
"I like the way you think, Skrugg. We'll form a better plan once we arrive. Anything else? Good. Keep Horvath on a tight leash. If he becomes a liability, feel free to knock him about the grape once or twice. We're moving in five."
The den was a flurry of movement. Weapons, ammo, and bodies flew around in a blur. Like clockwork, Corbin stood and shouldered his chainsword with a bellow. "Time's up, let's move." Silence followed, broken only by the thud of hobnail boots on the dilapidated floor. As one, they rolled out the door and into the alleyways, making for the ruins with as much speed as was safe.