"Squad Zmaj is ready for action, my captain," Pule spoke from the back of the room, using his hand to remove the hair from his forehead. "The Orks won't know what hit em!"
OOC: Folks may still ask questions, but use a "Briefing" tag in your post, or something, to show it's from before we deployed. The two guys playing sergeants should direct their questions to the captain, and the guys playing battle-brothers should direct their questions to their sergeant. The company set up (squads, sergeants, etc) is available in post #3, and will be updated as and when it's necessary to do so. ++Deployment++ As the drop pods soared through the air, the men of the 5th company eagerly awaited reaching the planet below. They each stood, silently waiting. Nerves were not a factor for Space Marines, for they were the embodiment of fear, the Emperor's angels of death. Soon the greenskins would know that true, and soon after that they would all be dead. ''Five seconds,'' the drop pod's machine spirit calmly reported. ''Steel yourselves, men,'' Sergeant Hack said, the first words spoken since they left their ship and began their descend from orbit. The drop pod crashed to the earth below, testing even the might of a Space Marine as the impact threw even their enhanced bodies forward. Were it not for the restraints, the landing would no doubt be deadly. The pod's ramp doors opened, hissing as their hydraulics lowered them. With their restraints quickly removed, the men of first squad moved out and quickly in to cover, lest they be caught in the open and unaware. The ninth and tenth squads respectively took cover of their own. Soon after second squad landed, and they joined first squad in cover behind a ruined building of some sort. The landing area was already a warzone, and the Marines were yet to fire a single shot. The Imperial Army had taken the position in the aftermath of the orbital bombardment, but the Orks had streamed back out from their forts and were testing the hastily set up defensive lines. Sergeant Hack looked out from behind the cover, his autosenses within his helmet set to work, looking to identify potential targets. A squad, or whatever the Ork equivalent of a squad is, at least, of Orks shootas [40ish Orks] were moving up along their right hand flank, and pressing the Imperial Army's position there. They were accompanied by a pair of the so called Wartrukk, and a trio of Warbuggies. On the left hand flank, where squads nine and ten had taken cover, were at least two squads of Ork sluggas, several Ork nobs and a half dozen bikers. ''The Orks must not take this position, men,'' the captain said over the vox, to his sergeants. ''Hold the line.'' With their instructions clear, the sergeants began organising their troops. ''Brothers, we are to hold position here. Lay down bolter fire on those Orks. We will destroy their vehicles as we can, but our own tanks will be here soon,'' Sergeant Hack said, ducking back in to cover. As he spoke, an Ork artillery round flew overhead and wiped out a chunk of Imperial Army's men. More artillery rained down, blasting vast chunks out of the earth behind the squad. ''Open fire!'' the sergeant ordered.
-Briefing- Mal'Grin was silent for the briefing, the only sound from him came from the mute whine of servos as he nodded his head in agreement. He typically had no problem with the plans that came from his captain, he was nothing if not a loyal warrior. While fierce on the battlefield, and seemingly wild and untamed, his squad bore the humours of their sergeant at this briefing. They too stood silent and unquestioning. The rage would come later, as would the fire. For now, they waited, content to simply stoke the embers of their hate. When the order for drop came, they crisply saluted and headed to the embarkation decks. They were swift and they were purposeful, battle was on the world below, and they would not keep it waiting. As customary, their sergeant was the first; practically jumping into the drop pod. As the hatches whined closed, he began the Unbreakable Litany: "From Iron, cometh Strength. From Strength, cometh Will. From Will, cometh Faith. From Faith, cometh Honour. - As the litany was nearly finished, the firing coils in the drop-tubes began to whine, so much so that the sergeant was yelling by the time he finished. -From Honour, cometh Iron!" And so they fell, with iron in their minds and rage in their veins, they descended to take the metal to the stone once more.
Gray fox ducked down as several shots went passed him he was beside one of his squad mates. he lifted his bolter beside him. he got up and peared over. Seeing several orks taking firing postions. He raised his bolter and began firing from cover firing a 3 round bursts at the Foul orks. He would not fail his team as he fired at the orks hitting 2 of them but not killing him. He quickly ducked back down as returned fire hit the rock he was using as cover. a artilary round flew over and hit the ground behind him. It coverd the marine with dirt. "Never a day without the holding a line." he said a smile under his helmet
The Ork shottas spotted second squad. They fired at the Iron Warriors, a suitable cover for first squad to fire back unimpeded. Over on the opposite flank, ninth and tenth squads came under fire from the Ork bikers, as the Nobs and their sluggas moved in closer.
Forex hunched forward and sprinted down the line of their defenses, maneuver past hastily erected barricades of razor wire and sandbags he moved on past scores of dead or dieing Guardsmen. Heavy Flamer at the ready he slid into cover beside a member of the Ninth Squad and nodded curtly. Keeping himself out of sight the warrior worked further into the building break a short ways from their gun line so he could engage the Ork mob from a position of surprise and in the closed confines of a ruins walls rather than the wide open mayhem of the streets. Jogging up a ruined stair way he took cover out of sight. Once the Orks began to stream past on the level below he struck, waiting till they were about to reach his comrades before pulling his weapons trigger. White flame jetted out from the muzzle as the massive muzzle spewed chemicals into the ignition flame jutting out at the tip, sweeping it back and forth on those down below the Iron Warrior grinned with grim satisfaction. Having opened up a path he immediately made it back toward his brothers, trusting that confusion would reign long enough in the area of ambush to keep the Orks too distracted from him.
The ground shuddered and the air cracked as the drop pod slammed down in a storm of fire and screaming metal. In a flash, Squad Ursal leapt from their restraints with a roar of fury and chain-weapons. Quickly surveying the battlefield before them, Mal'Grin ordered his squad into cover alongside the Ninth. Solid slug rounds pinging off of the stone shielding them, this crew of lions shared a quiet moment of laughter. "Like the fields of Charos, brother!" proclaimed Mirhto. "All we're missing is the shrieking Eldar." agreed Koria. "Aye, and the both of you beating them to death with clogged chainblades." chimed in Lucan. At this, another round of laughter. "Well, sergeant, what is our move?" asked Cadmus, focused on the mission as ever. Mal'Grin took a second to read the squad positions on his visor, and another to decide on whether or not his plan was survivable enough. He cracked a feral smile. Of course it was. "Vosidian, do you still hunger to settle your blood-feud with that Nob from Javal IX?" The sound of a chainsword activating was all the answer he needed. "Good. Vosidian, take the twins, Cadmus, and Vostrael. Silence those Nobs and their infernal screaming. The rest, come with me and head for those bikes. I want bolt pistols howling as you move, take down those shootas and lessen this storm, my paint is starting to chip. Move!" As one they rose, a unified lion's roar heralding the death of many. With pistols shuddering in their grip, the warriors of Ursal flew into the grinder of war once again.
The remainder of first squad fanned out, each taking a position which offered a good amount of cover fire. ''Brothers, purge those shootas. Show them the error of their way,'' the sergeant roared, before firing several bolt pistol rounds, one of which hit a shoota squarely in his forehead. ''Forex, the Orks are moving toward your position in their efforts to counteract us,'' Hack said, realising a half dozen, or so, Orks had broken away from the main pack. As ninth and tenth squads began to return fire upon the Orks, more streamed forward. Another two dozen shootas came in to view, their primitive guns firing at the astartes. To their left, twenty or so of their slugga boys moved in behind the Iron Warrior's cover, and charged toward tenth squad.
Galimon had been in a situation similar to this a few times in his half-century of experience, his armour would protect him against the primitive weapons of the Shootas, but the vehicles likely possessed more dangerous forms of firepower. Leaning just outside of his cover's protection the Recon Marine braced himself, slowly pushing his armoured finger against the trigger as he aligned the sight with one of the pilots (or at least what seemed to be the pilots, no Ork vehicles end up looking the same) of the Warbuggies. Taking a deep breath out, he pulled the trigger, a projectile not too dissimilar to a Bolt flew out of the barrel. Impact... With lethal efficiency Galimon had caused the Ork's head to be torn clean from it's torso, temporarily crippling the vehicle itself. Now was not the time for relaxation however, another Ork would likely take the place of the pilot soon, so for now all it seems is that he had created his own "kill zone," around the Warbuggy in which to kill any Ork that entered.
The grey fox began firing and covering there flank taking out a shoota boy trying to head to the flanks. He dcked into cover as they began firing at him. "Should have called in a few heavy support teams." he said to himself silently.
