@DeranVendar @Colapse

Sailing above the battlefield, it would be an easy thing for Dyzek to see the incoming reinforcements on both the Imperial and Xeno sides. Letting out a small laugh at the sight of the oncoming artillery, he'd deal with the newly developed threats with a calm, albeit slightly irritated acceptance. To think, this was merely the run off from the main battle that his brothers in the other squads had been sent out to engage in. Yet, his moment of thought would be over, as he received new orders, checking his helmet's feed, blinking open a rune to locate his new targets. Spotting the formation of kommandos from where they had revealed themselves, Dyzek would first send a brief acknowledgement to the sergeant, before he'd open up a comms link with his fellow assault marine, Seth, speaking a few words.

"Lets see if we can organize a proper welcome for the uninvited."

His chainsword still in hand, Dyzek would angle himself to be upon approach towards the enemy unit. As he did so, he'd swiftly check the roster of incoming Imperial forces, before his gaze would settle upon one group in particular. Opening up a comms channel, the mortal soldiers would suddenly hear the deep voice of an astartes in their ears.

"Attention, Squad Dillinger, it comes to my attention that you are within proper proximity to a newly formed ork threat. I will need you to turn upon the position I am sending you now, and to engage the greeskin Kommandos. Save your volley of grenades for my mark, but until then, keep the pressure upon them."

He didn't know if the soldiers would listen, truthfully. They were indeed penal legion soldiers, and thus their sense of duty and loyalty would be under question, yet, he had little choice. Five ork kommandos would be a hardy force to engage for just two Space Marines, especially in close quarters where the beasts would excel. He needed whatever advantage he could get, and if the orks had some fire coming their way, and some grenades going off around them, maybe he could do enough damage to take them down swiftly.

As such, as he flew onwards, soaring from the front, to the rear of the battlegrounds, Dyzek would lock in on his prey. Gripping his chainsword in hand, he'd make a last second communication with Seth, hoping the warrior would be able to join him.

"Come brother, there is ork blood to spill."

As with that, he'd turn himself towards the ground, and would give a thrust, propelling himself onwards. Dropping at such a high velocity, he'd give the order to Squad Dillinger to fire off their grenades to the xeno slime, judging that from the reaction time it would take for them to fire, the grenades would detonate just seconds before he'd come crashing down. Perhaps in the freshly bombarded plains, this would kick up enough dust and smoke to impair the already horrid vision of the orks. Regardless of the matter, whether explosions came in or not, Dyzek would fall upon the greenskins, like a hawk upon a field mouse, bringing down his chainsword, which roar in unison with his jump pack. Looking to make the most of his downward momentum, he'd swing upon one of the kommandos, his helmet switching to thermal vision if indeed the grenades did kick up enough debris and dust to block conventional vision. As he'd come in with a crash and an roar, Dyzek would look to make the most he had of his initial moments among the beasts.
​

Actions: Commanding Penal Squad Dillinger, Attack on Kommando #5 (Burna) with Chainsword on Assault.

​

"Affirmative, Sergeant. Advancing to relieve friendlies," replies Xerxes laconically as he goes 'over the top', surging up from his foxhole in a low, crouching run, laying down bursts of fire from his bolter towards the middle distance, targeting the Orks a few lines back from the trenches themselves to help break up the formation somewhat. All the while, he makes a point to move in careful formation with Marcus (?), timing his fire with his for maximum effect.

As he nears Herchel and Wilson, he mag-clamps his bolter to his armour and draws knife and pistol before piling into the Orks. At once, he is well and truly stuck in, lashing out left and right with his knife to slash and puncture, his bolt pistol alternately bludgeoning with its heavy barrel and shooting point-blank into the stinking green bodies as he aims to swat the Orks off Herchel and work his way to fighting back to back with him.

[All-Out Attack on Ork Mob attacking Herchel]

Herchel Grunted, Groaned and roared as he was Grabbed by the Xenos rage was filling his mechinical thoughs with ideas as he began to attempting to struggle agaisnt them trying to use the xenos as the shield against there own as they tried to hold him in place. As he began to struggle attempting to protect himself he also began struggling to reach his grenade, A blast from the grenade may injure him but it also may free him and get a few of these green skinned bastards as well.


OOC one action on defence trying to use a ork as a shield and put him in front of the buzzsaws and one action trying to reach my frag and set it off.

The numerous shots that cracked through his breastplate caused warnings to light up in his helm's HUD, the Astartes stumbling back a few as the nob shot him; falling to his knee, Marcus would bring a hand to his chest and take in a breath.
There wasn't any serious injury, he knew - he felt the pain in his chest, and knew it could've been worse - but all the same he---
Orks? Behind?? The Iron Warrior turned to look behind him and saw true enough, there were Kommandos.

Blast it, He thought to himself as he unsheathed his combat knife, bringing his boltgun up and opening fire at them without a care for burst control, spraying the bolts in the general area. He kept himself close to the ground and with his legs tensed up, ready to lunge or drop at a moment's notice.


OOC: One attack at burna Kommando w/ boltgun, one defensive roll for any oncoming attacks.

Seth was quite satisfied as he cut the alien apart with his chainaxe, but he was even more satisfied when he started ripping the Ork Mob apart. Of course, finishing the task with the flair he loved, the young Iron Warrior simply turned his twin-linked big shoota on the driver, squeezing the trigger. "Send my regards to Gibbit in Hell, Greenskin!" As his body was torn into pieces which flew all over the driving wheel, Seth activated his jump pack and cleared away before the, now driverless, War Trukk after couple of more wide turns slammed into another wreckage, going up in a nice explosion.

Once in air, Seth was already looking for another target before both Akar's and Dyzek's voice called his name over the vox. "I'm on it," he replied and cut the link, aiming his descent towards the Ork Infiltrators. He also saw how his Brother tried to organize the Penal troopers into action, a worthy effort to save them if they were regular soldiers, but these were the scum of the earth, better used as sandbags. In fact, if he was in charge he would simply order them to run forward with their bayonets or something and then laugh as the Orks delete them from existence. He would actually do it if not for the Sarge, who seemed to disapprove of his actions and would probably see this one as a waste of resource, something like when you leave the tap open for too long while you are somewhere else.

Ah, the sweet memories of his previous life made Seth grin as he unzipped his frag grenade and tossed it at the first Kommando in range, before landing and preparing his chainaxe to deal with whatever survived the blast.

OOC Balanced attack on the Kommando #1 with the frag grenade, defense with the chainaxe or jump pack dash (away).

Perhaps the most immediate concern was saving Herchel in the wake of Akar’s orders. Wrestling against the greenskins attempting to hold him steady the buzz saw wielding executioner thumped forward. With a grunt of effort Herchel wrenched one of his captors around and straight into the spinning blades. Saw bit deep into the boy’z chest and painted his comrade a healthy shade of bright red. With other arm now freed legionnaire primed a grenade and dumped it on the ground; promptly grabbing his surviving restrainer with both hands and spinning him about to for use as a shield. Grenade went off and the line warrior found himself preserved against both blast and shrapnel, while his foes had not been so lucky.


Nearby Wilson held his own despite being surrounded by an even thicker cluster of greenskins whom were packed in shoulder to shoulder within the trench. A Raven Guard or Alpha legionnaire may have handled the situation by deflecting and parrying his foes, misdirecting them into other combatants or making use of them as shields. Wilson held his ground by virtue of being a tough bastard. Neither side gained much an advantage over the other, a stalemate of flashing blades and angry shouts. It wasn’t destined to last.


Streams of bolts began punching into the trenches and the aggressing slugga boyz; scything them down from all directions. Xerxes found these targets easier to hit despite their proximity to a brother. Fatal shot pathways were revealed to him by cold, hard logic and the gifts of his mutant genes. Eight aliens died through a merciless combination of headshots, and spinal taps that left several meters of the trench line bathed in steaming viscera. Death toll ticked higher in both staggered bursts and single units when Vilhelm lent his own formidable accuracy to the fray. A frag missile cleaned out another nine of the aliens; packed tight into the fight they couldn’t dodge or get enough space between them and the impact. Those that survived, protected by several layers of what had once been living orks, fell to precise shots from the heavy trooper’s bolt pistol.


Those Stormboyz in the back line were in a worrisome position as far as the Imperium was concerned. Should they disengage they could dive into all sorts of mayhem deeper into the fledgling base. Sure they might die within a minute of landing, but the damage an Ork could do given even a few seconds was not to be underestimated. Sergeant Akar intended to see personally to their destruction. Tapping into a channel linked up with the Imperial Army auxilia, he relayed more orders.


“Overseer Triar, have your men engage enemy jump troops at once. They must not disengage. “An electro-whip went into frenzied work and an explosive collar detonated, urging nineteen men into an ill-fated bayonet charge with the hulking brutes that had just rode in on bloody rokkits. Their suffering would be short lived as the Havoc made Sergeant braced and charged up his plasma cannon. A single maximal level blast flew into the engagement. In its wake only a handful of badly burnt penal troopers and ashes were left. Maximum damage for minimal loss. Akar turned away without a second though to survey the field while his weapon cooled.


“Now daz some shiny dakka dere ‘umie! Gonna look nice on me ride!” Of course the act of destruction would draw attention, and of course the Big Boss had dibs on the best loot. With a small bounce the double barreled shoota was raised, an instant later when it fired a sound akin to basilisk opening fire sounded and Akar was lost amidst an eruption of packed earth. Explosive shells jammed into an orkish shotgun had leveled a small section of the trench, and Akar seemed to have gone with it. Only when a pile of dirt began to quake and fall away revealing the angry red coils of an overtaxed plasma coil did Seventh squad have visual confirmation that their leader lived. Climbing to his feet Akar drew his bolt pistol and opened fire. Each shot was wasted upon armored plates or empty space, legionnaire snarling viciously behind his helm. Choppateef closed in and power klaw came snip-snapping about for Akar’s neck. Iron Warrior tore himself away and crouched back beneath it. Dropping plasma cannon he fell back on old tactics and prepared to face down Ork leader with knife and pistol; despite his handicap of being anchored to his abandoned heavy weapon. A backhand swipe from klaw left Seventh squad’s master looking a lot less powerful. “Give it up ‘umie! Make it quick if yooz just gimme da dakka! “


Grunvil, caught between duty to obey orders and the obligation to return the favor of Akar covering him earlier, chose the latter. Too dangerous to level a missile into the close combat, his own sidearm was drawn like so many others. Choppateef reared his klaw back for a stab at marine’s torso and bellowed as he arced in for a gutting blow. Several bolts impacted with the weapon and detonated, one of the bolted on blades flying off and ensuing blasts knocking swipe off course so it merely tore into a pauldron. “WOT DA ZOG!”


“IZ GOT IT BOZZ! “ A Nob sprinted up toward Grunvil, trooper quickly went back to his missile launcher and put a frag missile in flight. Nob hunched low and threw himself into an awkwardly stretched stride, shot burning a path just above the head. Grinning savagely hulking xeno closed the gap and slashed at the Iron Warrior with a massive battle axe sparking with electricity generated by a bolted on battery unit. Grunvil proved more agile than he looked, pale trooper lurching aside as axe head buried itself in a rockrete trench lining. “Daz naw fair! Quit dancin’ ya ponsy elfdar git!”


While all this excitement played out in the front, the Kommandoes thinking themselves so cunning in the back were about to take center stage as Seth, Dyzek, and Marcus turned their attention on the quintet. Line trooper kicked things off with a smattering of bolts that sent his targets scattering for cover or into head-on charges. Another volley chewed into a barricade’s edge, narrowly missing the burna toting ork that had slid into cover behind it. Cover meant nothing to grenades though!


“Zog.” Kommando watched as Seth’s grenade clanked down nearby. With speed rare in such a heavy creature the greenskin vacated the immediate area, blast wasted on nothing. Dyzek came down just in front of the infiltrator, his call for fire support ignored as Dillinger had been blown apart by a battle cannon mounted on the battle wagon that had joined the battle with Choppateef. No matter, surely he could gut the xe--- and it was gone. In the blink of an eye Kommando had ceased to exist! Where it had gone was a mystery to all save Seth, whom saw the alien huddled up in the shadow of a bunker a mere step away from Dyzek, holding up a purple tarp for cover.


The moment Seth touched down he was tackled by another of the Kommandos. A rippy knife was held up to his gorget and ripped across! Ork was rather confused why his weapon hadn’t led to a fountain of blood, this confusion allowed Seth to flip the greenskin over his shoulder and slam it into the ground. Before any sort of follow up could be mounted another Kommando tackled him from behind, both bodies forming a dogpile on top of the other ork. A straight blade knife wedged itself into waist joint, worming its way through the thinner protection there and invading Seth’s flesh. It all happened so fast that Dyzek when Dyzek shifted around to help he was quickly caught flat footed by the remaining two Kommandos.


“’Ere spaze merehn.” Burna toting ork’s voice was warped by his chosen gas mask, but the intent remained crystal clear when the flames began to flow. Starting to cook in his armor thanks to point blank burning, things became even worse as the other sneaky git unleashed the kunnin’ tactic of massed firepower and laid into him with a shoota at the same time.


Oh and then there was also the Nobs to contend with. Marcus was likely plotting how to rescue their assault brothers from the grips of the treacherous sneaker gits when one of the big guys came stomping up. Nob threw out both arms and jumped off an area of raised ground, going in for a flying body slam! Marcus took the practical route of running aside and letting xeno face plant.


Two left! Wouldn’t ya know it Vilhelm and Xerxes were looking like some mighty fine targets too. Vilhelm found a Nob wearing a Squig’s face as a mask approaching fast with a pair of stubby chain choppas ready to make mincemeat of him. Lunging in the first blow came at the maximum of the alien’s reach, scraping an ugly gash down an arm, but failing to make meaningful damage. Second blow fared far better as gap was closed and a pair of descending blows carved into helmet and split open the legionnaire’s brow. Such power was impressive, even as teeth flew off the weapons as they struggled through the ceramite Nob managed to force armor penetration with mostly sheer muscle and bloody minded determination.


Xerxes found his own special friend closing in with a shoota firing wildly in one hand, and an angry gnasher squig raised overhead. Arms wrapped in a reversing pattern of red and white pyramids and a snake shaped banner rising up between the shoulders, it seemed psyker was dealing with a Snakebite. Arm levered forward and the squiggly beast was sent flying at the legionnaire. Though toss missed the beast quickly bounced back toward the target and began gnawing on a leg to minimal effect. What was effective though was the Nob smashing into Xerxes and emptying every single round left in the shoota into his upper body at point blank range. Previous gaps in his armor allowed fresh shots to burrow inside, while several more were created. When the gun finally fell silent Nob took it in both hands and began to violently smash him in the head with it. Squig continued to scrape the paint job on his legs.


Then he was on fire. Much like Dyzek for that matter. Orkish big guns had dumped an incendiary shell near their location and the flames washed over Ork, pet, and Librarian. Neither party was likely to be happy about this. Elsewhere on the field several more explosive shots managed to muck up some greenskin charges, saving some penal troopers while also pulping others. Despite their best efforts the enemy was starting to feel their casualties mount. Ork dead, and their organs, littered the field so thickly that dirt seemed to be less prevalent than green flesh. Nearly a hundred wrecked vehicles were left smoking across all layers of the defenses, and the army was still bringing in even more guns to remedy the infestation of xenos.


A saner force might have considered retreating by now. Orks being Orks, didn’t even seem capable of considering such. They were living it up right now and that was all the victory they would ever need. Never mind the drop pod plummeting toward their heavy guns in the back…


Tides of War: Seventh Squad and Imperial Army (Lead by Sergeant Akar) VS. Ork Speed Freaks (Lead by Big Boss Choppateef)
Advantage: Neutral

Seventh Squad:
Seth: 8 Xerxes:5 Vilhelm:7 Herchel:8 Wilson:8 Marcus:8 Dyzek:5 Grunvil:7 Akar:9
Conditions: Xerxes - Possibility Shield will last 1 more round. Seth is currently pinned in a Kommando dogpile and must aim any actions at them or himself. Dyzek may only make a single maneuver next turn, instead of the usual two; due to the generous Ork firepower coming his way. Marcus gains +2 against any attacks made toward the Nob that failed to body slam him.


Speed Freaks:
Big Boss Choppateef: 22 (Power Klaw/ Boom-shoota), Nobs: 7/7/5 (Burning)/7, Kommandoes: 4/4/4/4/4(Burna)
Conditions:
Big Teef’s boom-shoota requires a single maneuver to reload, and may not be fired again until such is done. Each round an artillery barrage will be rolled. The higher the roll, the more damage the humans suffer. The lower the roll, the more orks that get hit.

"FIGHT ON BROTHERS!" The recruit shouted as he sheathed his combat knife and pulled off his frag grenade and raised it up - aiming to try and give a full-on punch to the Nob's back, adding his already superhuman strength with that of his power armour to try and smash into the ork's chest cavity - if successful, he'd activate the grenade and yank his arm out, before rolling away.
Even if he failed he'd roll away, not wanting to risk staying too close to the beast. His boltgun would be raised and looked to his fellow Assault brothers. Seeing how one - the man named Dyzek - was being roasted, he wasted very little time in bringing his bolter up and firing the last of his rounds in two three-round bursts, in hopes of stopping his brother from getting any closer to Death's Door.
"IRON WITHIN!" He cried soon after, his muscles aching briefly; moreso at his chest. The wounds were already clotting he knew, feeling his superhuman physique going to work. He'd have to reload soon after this he knew, though the act itself would be partially habitual. Just needing to eject the current magazine, and slap in a new one at his waist; easier done than said of course.
And he knew the Nob may not like him having a fully loaded bolter.

OOC: One attack against Nob; if successful, frag grenade in him. One bolter attack at Burna Kommando

Coughing up blood from internal wounds and reeling from the violent head trauma, Xerxes fights to survive as he has only done once before - as a child, striving to outmanoeuvre and outlast the violent sandstorms of his homeland. The killing wrath of nature was one thing - it was impersonal, impartial and blind. The violence of the greenskin, on the other hand, was as personal as it came.

Digging deep, he calls upon every last iota of strength, tenacity and psychic talent to survive and to fight back. He was out here among the stars now, fighting for humanity. All of humanity was his tribe now, and he would not let them down. Throwing up a vambrace, he jams off the descending stroke of the heavy shoota barrel and, with a roar of desperate fury, plants his legs and begins to run forwards to force the Ork backwards, upwards and off-balance. Reaching into the very depths of his own soul, he unleashes his mind-strength, the invisible limbs of his soul to enhance his fleshly thews for battle and beat out the flames that threaten to roast him.

As it happens, he had parried the blow with his knife arm, and so he jams the barrel of his bolt pistol into the Ork's hip, unleashing a long burst before whipping the barrel around to smack the Ork's arms aside and pin them to its chest, clearing the way for a ripping thrust with his knife.

[All-Out Attack on Ork; Telekinetic Flame Extinguishment and Strength Enhancement as Free Action]

Herchel grunted as he regained his composure covered in ork viscera and blood he threw the rest of the remaining green skin onto the ground and mag locked his bolt pistol to his hip then grabbed his flamer, He needed to do crowed control now. "Flamer is out firing upon grouped ork targets," Herchel said through the vox his voice was mechanical but the sound of some fatigue could only be heard for a moment after wrestling those green skins.

Looking to his brothers in the trench he readied his flamer and began firing upon the orks in the trench that were tying them down. Keep moving less talking eliminate the majority of the force before taking out the leader. Herchel thought Raising his flamer at the Kommandos he let out torrent of all consuming flame.

OOC Full on attacks on kommandos with burnas fighitng fire with fire.