A write up of the action from the prelude to the Inquisitor Campaign by Martin Hogg
“Forward, on me,” sergeant Ross (though they all called him “Rosie”) moved up the street – or what remained of it. The bombardment had reduce half the city to rubble.
As him & the rest of Delta 208 stepped forward, one of the more intact buildings let out a long groan. The structure had already been cleaved in two by a shell, & Rosie knew that it was on the verge of collapsing completely, much like the morale of his men. He wasn’t surprised, he was still shaken by the ruthlessness in which the shells had fallen upon their ranks & even now couldn’t believe his team hadn’t suffered any casualties.
Though that wasn’t what really unnerved him. He hoped that the rest of the squad hadn’t noticed, but looking up to the sky he had observed with horror the direction in which the shells were falling from – their own lines. He knew not why command had betrayed them, but he knew they could not stay. With their ranks shattered, the path was now clear for the invaders.
Then, about 50 metres down the street, he saw it. It wasn’t hard to miss, really; the green of its skin & the way the creature moved easily stood out against the drab, grey background.
“Ork,” he spat.
“For the glory of the God-Emperor!” And with that he charged forwards, revving up his chainsword to prepare it for the grisly feast it would soon experience. He shot his laspistol once, twice, with private Jason joining in, bright red beams cracking from his lasgun.
The beast barely even flinched.
*
Organ followed his sergeant, keeping a perfect 20 paces behind. Side-by-side with Aston, they moved forwards, sweeping their lasguns through the air, keeping a look out for any more of the beasts.
And then he heard it. A low, rumbling chug coming from near the river – no, wait; IN the river! As they past an open alley, it was visible plain as day. A boat, ferrying two Orks across the water, both of them jeering & brandishing their ramshackle weapons at them. The front of the boat was taken up by a large object appearing to depict some form of head, from the top of this it spouted another Ork, appearing to be the pilot. He & Aston opened fire on it, but their shots simply bounced off the metal he was sitting in. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Boric running through the graveyard – ironically the only thing they found unscathed – & also taking pot-shots at the pilot, though he fared no better. Where was Maxtor?
*
Gripping his grenade launcher to his chest, Maxtor followed Boric through the graveyard. Suddenly, his ankle caught on something & the world spun, before turning brown. He lifted his head, shook away the dirt, & clambered out of the empty grave, continuing forwards.
*
Sampson could hear the gunfire erupting around him, & he knew they were doomed. He had hear stories of these things overrunning whole cities – Terra, even worlds. He stood still, frantically debating with himself. Should he run now, & betray his squadmates & his sergeant? Or should he stay & fight to the bitter end? He felt warm, moist air pant over his shoulder, then a cold, sharp pain erupted down his back, & he knew his decision had been made for him. He turned to block the next blow, survival instinct & training kicking in, shoving his lasgun two-handed into the path of the of the huge pickaxe the Ork was wielding. Then he backed off & let loose a shot into the beast’s arm. It then collapsed from a torrent of fire from Jason, Boric & another – what was the new guy’s name again? He couldn’t remember, though he was whole-heartedly grateful for his intervention.
Even if it was just postponing the inevitable.
*
Maxtor finally reached the top of the graveyard’s hill, after tripping over a gravestone eroded by the centuries it had stood & clambering over a brambles bush (only afterwards realising there was a simple path around it). He had a perfect viewpoint of the boat from here, & let off a shot at the greenskin he assumed was piloting the thing.
*
A blast of heat & shrapnel enveloped Kaptin’ Barak o’ “The Mighty Barma”. He loved his ship – he’d built it himself without even needing any help from the Mek -, but he would go with a brawl any day.
“Cam on boyz! We gotz sum fightin’ to do!” Leaping off the boat & into the water, he swam ashore. Instantly he saw one of the ‘umies. The man was as spindly as all of their race, but what struck him was the beard the man brandished. He doubted he could grow anything like that with the hair squigs back at the settlement. He decided that he’d loot this man’s hair squigs after the fight, & with that thought in mind he fired his slugga pistol twice in succession.
*
Organ stared in horror as blood spurted from Jim’s chest & his right leg completely blew off. Jim fell backwards, & his eyes stared at Organ for a brief moment before he blacked out.
He opened fire on the Ork who’d shot, glancing down every few seconds at the unconscious form of Jim. Emperor, that man had a nice beard.
*
Maxtor had seen the Orks swim ashore, & although he fired two shots off at them, he did look for a brief moment at the boat that was continuing to float downstream. With that he considered; aren’t we all just boats that are steered down the course of life? And even when left unguided, will still move forwards. Never going back, never looking back.
With that he turned his head forwards again to observe the carnage he had wrought. There wasn’t much to see. Green obscured his vision as one of the brutes was charging directly up the stairs at him, waving his axe in the air & bellowing contempt.
“Oh shi-” he was cut of by the distinctive crack emitted by a lasgun set to full power. The Ork promptly fell to the ground mere inches from Maxtor, his chest cavity blown out.
Stepping gingerly over the body, prodding at it with the tip of his boot as he moved, Maxtor ran over to Aston, who was sheltering with Jacoby behind a broken wall, firing their lasguns at the remaining two Orks by the river.
“Get out of here!” Aston shouted over the noise emitted by the firefight he & Jacoby were establishing. Maxton didn’t need much encouraging, he could see another craft coming into view. This time it spouted a massive missile launcher from its prow.
*
Organ didn’t even see it coming. He was too busy to notice the second boat turning the corner. Too busy providing support for Aston. Too busy worrying about the sergeant, about the state of the war itself. He had seen where the bombardment was being initiated from, he wasn‘t an idiot. He wandered what would happen when they made it back to HQ – would the Commissar execute them anyway for diligence of service? Would their tale spoil the trust the population placed in its ruling power? He didn’t want to know. He almost wished he would simply die here so he didn’t have to worry about it.
And with that thought, he exploded.
*
Sampson had had enough. Jim’s injuries were gruesome, but when the gory remains of Organ splattered him in the face, he knew it was time to leave. He sprinted down the street, pushing the redshirt out of the way, directly past Jason, & practically skimmed the dual between sergeant Rosie & the first Ork they’d spotted. He knew he could have helped. He knew he was a coward.
But he also knew he didn’t care.
*
Boric saw everything. He had the high ground, & was above Jim when he was shot down. He could see the Orks charge up the alley at his comrades. He watched as Organ was obliterated by the boat’s missile, the killer then moving onto the shore & unloading yet more Orks. And then he saw Sampson run.
Coward. Deserter. Betrayer.
He would catch that frak-head. Forget the Commissar or the Orks, he’d kill him himself. He leapt over the graveyard wall, landed in the growing pool of blood pouring from Jim’s lack of a leg, slipped, & knocked himself out on the pavement.
*
Rosie wasn’t doing very well. He’d expected this Ork to go down immediately. But it blocked every swipe he made at it, sticking its massive knife in the way. By all rights the thing should have shattered, but it held intact in a way only Ork weaponry could.
He made a thrust at it, parried a jab from the blade, & swept at its legs. Again it blocked him!
Then the worst happened. The blade jammed itself between the teeth of his chainsword, shattering one & sending the rest flying everywhere. Several flew into Rosie, biting deep into his flesh, whilst the rest bounced harmlessly off the Ork’s thick hide. The pain wasn’t so bad, what hit him hardest was the fact he was now unarmed. He’d holstered his pistol when the combat began, allowing him to perform two-handed manoeuvres which he thought would be successful.
The greenskin tore the knife free, & raised it, bellowing victory.
“Saaaaarge!” Jason ran into his field of vision – which was considerably narrowed by the bits of his life flashing before his eyes – & rammed the barrel of his lasgun into the Ork’s abdomen. The beast’s stomach ruptured, & it’s torso folded over as it crashed to the ground.
“How the frak…?!” he asked. He could hear the sounds of battle continuing behind him. He turned in time to see Aston & Jacoby receive a thorough peppering of fist-sized bullets through their bodies. Jim was lying on the ground missing a limb – what a waste of a good beard, he thought – & Boric was now righting himself, the entire front of his body caked in blood. Maxtor ran up to him.
“Come on, sir, it’s time to move,” the grenadier said. He was right, they’d wasted far too much time here. The four of them fled down the street, shoulder-to-shoulder, no longer bothering to check corners or keep an eye out for threats. Rosie knew they’d be dead soon, but why hurry it?
*
In the midst of the carnage, one Guardsman stood still, considering his options. He knew he wasn’t appreciated by the rest of the team, but that changed nothing. Not his attitude, not his performance, & certainly not his loyalty. He slowly walked over to the body of Jim, threw it over his shoulder, &, hunching his back, set off at a jog. Such a beard couldn’t be wasted.
***
Tags: Battle Reports, Inquisitor