The distant krump of an explosion, followed by the noticeable whoosh of igniting air, warned 923 about the eminent conflagration only a moment before the industrial area was lit up in flames. A nice trick that.

He leveled his lascarbine on the sandbags in front of him and peered through the scope. He could see the shapes of heavy infantry scattering. The trainees had been separated. The first wave now trapped in the killroom with the Scion Ferenien Votum and that Rahlian Lance Corporal Vassar Rahl.

That was a pair of dangerous guardsmen if their ever was. 923 had only heard of the Tempestus Scions in passing. They were akin to the Astartes in the myths and rumors surrounding their prowess, but Votum seemed to live up to those stories. There was a . . lethality about him, even when not directly in the business of inflicting harm. 923 could respect that.

Vasser was something else entirely. She wasn't the typical guard type. Where Votum was the power fist to your face kind, she was the silent knife in throat while you sleep sort. Both were equally impressive. 923 was for more mundane then either of them. He always preferred the direct approach, preferably with lots of artillery backing him up.

There really was nothing like advancing over no mans land with a creeping barrage sweeping the way ahead of you. To each their own of course. The ringing in your ears took some getting use to, but it beat slogging through knee deep mud in your own trench.

Speaking of slogging. . .

"Those flames won't last forever" 923 voxed over their shared comm-link.

"They will renew their assault soon enough, and redouble their efforts no doubt. I hope Rahl and you have some better tricks up your sleeve, Votum" he stated, as he adjusted his power pack and thumb the safety rune on his weapon. @Verticus

Leveling his aim on the eastern exit of the industrial buildings ahead, he rested his finger on the edge of the trigger guard and steadied his breathing. With only the three of them armed with lascarbines in the trench, they hardly had the firepower to hold back a dedicated charge up the slope. A heavy weapon would have been prudent, but they didn't come in the non-lethal variety. A shame really.

It meant they had to make their shots count. Easy enough, as they would have no shortage of targets in the very near future . . .

Sergeant Major Alton smiled from his advantage point. Thanks to his time in 19th Valerian and dealing with Saven, he knew the unusual among the guard. This collection of vets were some of the best in the recent crusade. He gave a signal and then left for something called him back to headquarters. Rain suddenly started making the entire field a quagmire. The fourth and fifth waves were now on the field. The first and second waves were flooding into the killroom and blasting at everything slightly suspect. Half of the first wave was down but now momentum was picking up as numbers were stacking. And some of these recruits knew their traps. Some were disarming the room as more came in and secured it. The vets should retreat if they want to last the whole exercise.
Near the entrance, the fires were sputtering and wavingimg the smoke filled darkness. All the recruits were using identification signals to know who is who. Vassar wouldn't make it much closer even in their uniform, without some more tricks. In the beginning part looked to be five more waves at least.

Approaching the first recruit she saw she began to list heavily on the long las before collapsing in the mud screaming out in pain. Hollering out oaths and curses that would of made Khorne proud and the Emperor turn in His throne (if that were physically possible) she began to scream for a medicae and rambling about some damn Guardsman who was using an auto rifle with real rounds in the forward buildings.

Pulling off the dazed and injured/shell shocked story, there was little to not believe that she had been the victim of an unfortunate encounter with less than honorable guardsmen. In fact, her account seemed to agitate the next waves egging them on even more as one remained to escort her back. Leaning heavily on the troopers shoulder, making sure to really drag herself in the growing quagmire the battlefield had begun, she listened to the vox chatter absent mindedly.

Seeing the out of bounds zone, she told the trooper that she could limp the last distance toward "their" lines and begun to shuffle lazily towards them. As soon as the trooper was out of sight, she began searching around for the command post. Taking out her war knife, she stealthily approached towards a waiting Chimera which was sparsely guarded at the moment as most of the PDF troopers had decided to take shelter in the heavy rainfall.

Leaning up against the hull, she waited outside until she heard footsteps clanking heavily on the plasteel ramp. Watching as an aide walked out, she grabbed him by the neck before he had time to squeal and incapacitated him. Taking away the service pistol and making sure it had live rounds in it since unlike the recruits in the field, the command squad were not technically in the fight and thus not prone to the rules of engagement.

Now armed with a semi automatic M37 Auto Pistol, she stealthily approached the entrance. After a moments deliberation as she listened for anyone approaching she threw in her last stun grenade. Cries of alarm sprang out before the detonation rang out insanely loud as the explosive was amplified in the close quarters. Sweeping in, she took the first trooper by surprise by punching him in the mouth and taking him in a hostage grip. Bringing the looted pistol to bear, she aimed it at the rest of the crew who were in differing stages of shock, disbelief, and outrage.

With a calm face, Vassar ordered them to drop their weapons and to relay the following orders to the advancing waves. The first command was that a flanking force of Guardsmen had been detected outside on the eastern flank approaching behind the kill house to assault the third wave and that the remaining forces were to marshal themselves for a full wave assault once the forward buildings were cleared.

The second command was that their commanding officer approach towards her with their hands raised and follow her outside. She made sure that unlike the others, she didn't care about a single PDF troopers life in a training exercise...accidents could always happen and if so, she would ensure none of them survived to tell the true account.


OOC: I'm not in a kill room....MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Gerborov placed his trigger finger on the side of the fingers guard and flicked the saftey. "Perhaps they are not as incompetent as I had thought but the certainty lack discipline." He said this over the comm. he was in his aiming position the short barrel of the carbine touching the sandbags that were placed on the top of the trench. During his service on that ice ball he had became quite the shot as he picked off dozens cultist and mutants daily with his comrades out of nesseity to simply hold their position. The sudden simulated rain that came about had made no difference to him with the red lenses of his rebreather being easily wiped off with his steadying hand from time to time.

With the distant flames being extinguished Gerborov only had one thought. The corporal out ranked him for a very obvious reason and his respect was not only required it was demanded and he will comply fully. To be fully honest with himself she scared him somewhat given that she had somehow managed to aquire actual explosive and a fire bomb during a training exercise. He dosnt know what she must have went through to become so skilled in lurking in the dark and he really didn't want to know. He just want to keep on her good side indefinitely he'd sooner atempt to kill a commissar than earn her rage.

Irregardless the training exercise was still on going and the rain was turning the dirt into a drowned slurry that resemble mud. He moved his feet a little bit to free himself from the mud and moved to where he and the kriegsman had placed a bit of scrap metal on the ground so he wouldn't sink in his heavy gear or at least he was told it was heavy to him it was just normal clothes.

The Tempestor Prime would acknowledge inter-vox chatter with an acknowledging grunt sent over his own, he didn't use words as there were more pressing matters than to converse about advisements, acknowledging is enough unless tactical fluidity is involved, where conversation is key; the plan has been working in the kill room, there was no need to change. He resets his position once the wave entering the kill room have been dispatched or routed; as if he were a shipment crane he moved from his end of the rafters to the closest rafter to the entrance, ready to pick off a new shipment of those training, they'll need to evolve their patience and deal with this guerrilla tactic with their own, especially in the environment they currently set themselves in, if they don't they have already failed, as the first-breach team has given a prime example of.

Ferenien analyzed the contours of the terrain set out in the kill-room highlighted from his Omnishield Optics array, inspecting structural weaknesses if the teams were bold enough to breach walls, as well as any undesired movement, like a trainee guardsman sneaking through the darkness to try and catch a foolish watchman, of course there is always the cunning one in any group; they have to be picked off nonetheless. The Prime continued to vigilantly guard the kill room as rain began to flood into the building, watering off the underground industrial maintenance tunnels, a good cover for any guardsman with a grand lung capacity and a tactical sense, an easy way to sneak through defenses set out; if only they could make it past the entirety of the kill room. Too bad.

The kill room slowly grew on the Prime as he analyzed the structure whilst in deep focus on the one entrance of the industrial building, soon his irregular rifle would be able to shift and sway to any danger in case of a broken-wall contingency or a chameleon-like guardsman were to slip by; Never allow that. Too many lashings during Votum's training have taught him to remain vigilant, no matter what. Stifle breathing, One eye on the target, the other as a backup, plan for everything, impenetrable alone. The acts Ferenien have initiated were second nature and repetitive, it was the calming factor in any warzone, familiarity and duty, bundled together; this vigilance of the kill room seemed nostalgic, as if he were a Tempestus Scribe once again, training against his comrades-in-arms to become one of the select few in each group to become a Tempestor.

Frivolities and remembrance aside, Ferenien continued his established duty at preventing any traffic past the kill room.

Even high up on her perch Saven could sense that things were not going according to her plan, given that flames most likely from an improvised explosive had sprung up in the Kill-room part of the course, and that the simple human wave tactics are basically winning this little exercise by attrition. So she said over her comm-bead "Ferenein, Vassar, Barren: I need you three to fall back to the trenches, if we're going to have a chance of winning this exercise, we'll have to fight as a unit."

Practicing what she preached, Firlaeth then readied her las-carbine and took aim in the general direction of the trench area, ready to start firing on any recruits that stumbled into her sights. This wasn't a time for say, flashy stunts involving her flying around the battlefield with her Grav-Chute, which would be silly and likely to end with her being shot out of the sky by enmass lasgun fire from the recruits.

The Killroom had stopped the first two waves of Heavy Infantry but third and fourth are now passing the disarmed room covering each other using bounding techniques. They have now made it to the trenches that are slowly filling up with water and the ground is crumbling mud. There is not a clean one among them as the crawl towards the next objective. Several of the following waves were slightly confused at orders that made no sense since this was a narrow course with no flanks. These proceeded with what their NCOs said to do which was to continue on. All but a couple waves are now making its way across the course. Several were actually pretty good taking percise shots even in these conditions.

Seeing the groups of men running out of the exits and into the first trench Gerborov activated his comm. "they have made it to the trenches 923 and I will hold them off as long as possible." Having said this he took his flash grenade and threw it into the first trench where the recruits were funneling into. He then fired at the men that were crawling in the small no man's land between the forward and main trench emptying his charge pack. He was quite the shot due to his time picking off cultists in the 6 year long siege on that Ice ball of a planet. From his firing position he got up and moved to a different one while reloading the carbine though because of the mud he had some difficulty moving as quickly as he wanted to.

"923 we need to keep them suppressed until the rest get back here."
@Mechiaus

With the auto-pistol still aiming at the crew as they defiantly threw down their sidearms and moved towards one side of the Chimeras interior, the Corporal shoved the dazed aide towards them and grabbed their commanding officer. Placing several shots into the equipment and then the hatch release governing system and throwing themselves outside as the hatches sealed shut locking the crew inside the Chimera for the time being.

Placing the muzzle against the officers head, Vassar motioned that they begin to march towards the defensive lines which even now were lighting up with flares, tracers of las fire, and mock explosions. The PDF officer was by no means happy at being manhandled and sputtered curses and vile threats, even going so far as to mention a "firing squad" until Vassar responded by firing the pistol right next to the officers ear causing her to stumble down even as crimson blood gushed out from the ruptured ear drum.

Swiping out blindly in an attempt to catch the Corporal offguard, Vassar weaved back with catlike reflexes and with a round house kick knocked the officer into the ground face first with a sickening crunch. Perhaps that had been a bit over excentric but at least it was self defense...grabbing the slack body, Vassar threw the officer over her shoulder and began to double time it back towards the kill house even as the final formations were passing through.

With the lack of communications from the rear lines with their command squad without working vox relays and trapped temporarily inside the transport, they had nothing to watch their back as the Panzerfusilier stalked their movements. Watching as the last form entered the building, she made her move and entered the semi-flooded interior.

Flash scorch marks marred the walls and the pungent musk of sulfur and potassium nitrate fluttered through the damp air clinging to her skin and soiled uniform. Taking the steps two at a time, even as the weight of the possibly dead officer began to take its toll, she reached the upper balcony which had a perfect commanding view over the final trench works in which the massed assault of the PDF was being made manifest.

There was little time to act and with precious seconds slipping by, she threw the officers body across the broken battlements so that it was half over the edge, weight haphazardly distributed where a single push in either direction would mean a plummet to certain death on the scrap below. Priming a fresh flare into the single cylinder of the small, snub nosed revolver, she fitted a crimson signal flare in and fired it towards the center of the formation to grab their attention.

Once the flare landed, there would be little hiding but Vassar was done with hiding, only a single bravado filled countermeasure could defuse this situation. That moment was fast approaching and she tightened her grip against the officers overcoat to prevent her from plummeting below and slapped the officer across the cheek. Rewarded for her efforts, craze streaked eyes blossomed open with fright as the mind attempted to reconcile with its new surroundings. Everything came rushing back in a blur along with a pounding headache from the impact but the officer was alive...for now.

Detonating with minuscule force against the soft earthworks with a sound similar to that of a stone plopping into the water, the flare began to vomit out sickening waves of light amongst the ranks of the advancing recruits. Uncertainty at why a flare had landed amongst their midst, the nearest to the epicenter turned for the source and within moments attention began to spread towards both Vassar and her captive.

Raising the officer so that all could see, the Corporal gave out a single ultimatum...surrender or she would come down there and finish them all off like the officer would soon be if they resisted. Pleading eyes and a litany of oaths and prayers flowed out from the crippled form of the PDF commander but would these "recruits" even care about a single high ranking officer?

Ferenien heard commands and began to withdraw from the kill room, hopping from rafter to rafter to exit at a high altitude, on a ruined ledge perhaps; he had to rush to his comrades to work in a joint operation to push back the pouring waves of trainees, yet the ledge felt so tactically sane to pick off the trenchers; it wasn't time for picking, it was time for annihilation. The Prime used rubble and windows to quickly descend the side of the kill building, off the route cordoned to the trainees, he would expedite his travels in doing so. He would re-enter the dead zones where the others have been holding the trainees off with suppression.