Objective A
Location: Dilapidated Bunker
Gear: Spiker, Kukri, Basic chest and leg armor.
Post 3
Clearing the bunker had proven to be a tiresome and disappointing task. The initial contact which had been met at the bunker's entrance had gradually lessened the further the squad of Sraelvun drones entered into the facility. Faulty wiring and intentional cuts in the power lines of the facility meant that the group was often fighting in sub-par conditions. Occasionally, doors and deadlocks would refuse to open or respond to the drones, and they would be forced to painstakingly circumvent these segments of the bunker, or else to force them open, often exposing them to ambushes. The occasional blaster bolts that had managed to hit their marks were beginning to slow the squad.
Most of the time, the ambushes were quickly dispersed with spiker-fire. Targets were either promptly skewed by the heated metal, or else they were driven back into the next room, finding solace in the companionship of additional allies hidden further into the facility. They had vastly underestimated the number of soldiers who had been posted within the structure, but it seemed that they were likely some form of militia or reserve group, less capable than the hardened warriors upon the surface of the world. As with many quasi-military bands, they were relying less on advanced technology and firepower than on guerilla tactics and scorched earth tactics.
Still, the bunker could only extend so far underground, and by all accounts, the band of Sraelvun had managed to reach its end. Hidden behind a massive cargo-door was the end of the bunker. Osam was uncertain why the cargo door had been placed here as opposed to nearer the front of the facility, but the subtle noise of explosions seemed to indicate that they were once more close to the surface. Perhaps a hangar of some sort lay on the other end of the durasteel door, allowing for resupply through aerospace vessels in normal circumstances. With the fighting occurring across the world, however, and the far more pivotal locations under assault, the reservists could hope for no reinforcement or resupply.
Neither could the Sraelvun. Pockmarked armor served as a reminder of less visible blisters where skin and meat had seared under exposure to blaster bolts. Munitions had run surprisingly low on account of the necessity to breach a dozen corridors and airlocks. Even Osam's kukri felt like it was on the verge of going blunt after being applied to so many pieces of hard armor and appliances. A quick glance at the other members of his squad reminded the Drone Major of the fight going on across the city, of the countless lives lost.
Sraelvun were not particularly intelligent beings, but even they could understood how to open the bunker door; a large bright button stood on the right-side of the durasteel cargo door, engraved with the words "Open/Close". It came as a surprise when the cargo door hissed mechanically, and began to split in twain along its center, revealing a number of crates and pallets, and the valiant defenders of Kesh behind them. The men and women were covered in debris and detritus and blood. They weren't so dissimilar in appearance to the drones, considered Osam, and a split second later, the fire began.
Spikers barked and blasters hissed and across the room projectiles lanced defender and crusader alike as though they were merely cysts being pressed. The drones were hardier than the defenders, they had been created that way from the beginning, and so it took several bolts to bring one to its death, but the ambushers were desperate and sprayed ammunition as though they might never have another opportunity. Out of the corner of Osam's eye, he observed as one of his lesser subordinates was stricken by a flurry of blue and red tinted energy strikes, his skin fusing together in several places with wisps of smoke, and his armor faltering under the hurricane of blows. If he gasped or shrieked, the Drone Major would never know, because of the cacophony. The odor was pleasing, at least.
There was a cry like that of an assassin before he murders his target, and Osam reacted instantly, swinging his off-hand towards the sound in reaction, making contact with something even before his head had turned to face the threat. Already, the ambusher was returning his weapon back to its original position, directing it generally towards the head of the Sraelvun, but he didn't have the opportunity to finish. With a bash of his shoulder, the fellow was sent sprawling against the nearest wall, sinking downwards with a groan. A sharp and excruciating pain burned in his hand, and he glanced towards it only to find that a pair of his fingers had been fused gorily against his palm, the short-range blaster shot managing to fuse the meat. He was lucky that he had not lost the appendage altogether, owing to his bloodline, but it was a messy wound and one that might never recover.
In retaliation, images of crushing the ambusher's head like a fruit played through the mind of the Major, but he was not Baedurin, and such acts of immense and brutish strength were beyond his ability. He settled with a fierce kick that ruptured the ribs of his foe, earning the would-be killer his death all the same.
There was silence in the warehouse as the last of the defenders perished. Despite the victory, half of the squad of Sraelvun lay still upon the floor, including their sharpshooter, and the major himself felt the full extent of his injury as the battle's exhilaration came to its end, shrieking between closed teeth. "Eat. Recover supply. Leave soon." He managed, allowing the survivors to begin carving at their fallen allies, relieving themselves of some of the pent-up stress they had incurred from the fighting, and reloading themselves with whatever munitions could still be found.
Even as the major stared at his fused hand, his comm-unit buzzed with an uncomfortable number of whispers and interrogatives, and Osam wondered what losses had been bought in exchange for the Crusade, and if the cost would settle on only a few unimportant drones... or something that could not be replaced.
LeoraLiliana
Octavius Bellator
Helska Brood
Soloman Priest
Tarre Priest
Hraelga Nacht
Sor-Jan Xantha
Primarch Drek'ma
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