Ordo
War
The wind gusted across the war torn cityscape creating wirlwinds of smoke and grit. The smells of carbon and ozone mixed with the sickly sweet scent of burned meat and waste. The reddish sun of whichever world this was hung like a hazy lamp light that barely stabbed through the cold grey clouds of dust and smog. The roar of small arms and artillery still echoed off the remnants of buildings and the man had to wonder how many people were entombed in the ruins. His heavy plate beskar ground against the duracrete wall as his broad back pressed against it in a vain effort for cover. The vibrant glow of blaster fire in various hues of brilliant death laced across the fields of battle always seeking a life to take and utterly remorseless about which life was taken.
The man was clad in his armor, once black and green, now cold grey from years of wear. His helmet blocked his hard line carved face. He couldn't say with any semblance of honesty who he was fighting or why they fought. He only knew he was paid in advance. He checked his weapons and the readout on his HUD screen inside his visor. How long had he been fighting here? He didn't really know if it mattered, but the question floated across his mind as he pushed off the wall and crept toward the corner and turkey peaked around.
Seven, not a big squad, picked their way toward him. To their credit he hadn't known they were coming until they were 100 meters away. He sighed heavily and sent a small puff of dust from his helmet before he popped low around the corner and opened fire. The rifle bucked against his heavy hands as it spat death at the squad. The lightly armored soldiers dove and ducked, desperate to avoid the rain of magnetically charged slugs that quickly filled the space between them.
Four, he thought as he pivoted back around the corner as if on a hinge. The returned fire cast multicolored shadows across his dark visor as he waited for their retribution to rest for reload. He picked his way quickly toward the opposite corner and pushed his way over a low spot in the wall to hunch behind some rubble. He peaked over as the soldier's fire died down and marked his remaining targets. His aging grey eyes blinked through HUD options as he raised a gauntleted fist and fired four small rocket powered projectiles. The soldiers barely had time to scream a warning to one another before they were simply gone. Only wet stains on the rubble to tell that they had been there.
The man grunted and began to move again, fighting his way passed the enemy front as he dealt death like sabaak cards.
The man was clad in his armor, once black and green, now cold grey from years of wear. His helmet blocked his hard line carved face. He couldn't say with any semblance of honesty who he was fighting or why they fought. He only knew he was paid in advance. He checked his weapons and the readout on his HUD screen inside his visor. How long had he been fighting here? He didn't really know if it mattered, but the question floated across his mind as he pushed off the wall and crept toward the corner and turkey peaked around.
Seven, not a big squad, picked their way toward him. To their credit he hadn't known they were coming until they were 100 meters away. He sighed heavily and sent a small puff of dust from his helmet before he popped low around the corner and opened fire. The rifle bucked against his heavy hands as it spat death at the squad. The lightly armored soldiers dove and ducked, desperate to avoid the rain of magnetically charged slugs that quickly filled the space between them.
Four, he thought as he pivoted back around the corner as if on a hinge. The returned fire cast multicolored shadows across his dark visor as he waited for their retribution to rest for reload. He picked his way quickly toward the opposite corner and pushed his way over a low spot in the wall to hunch behind some rubble. He peaked over as the soldier's fire died down and marked his remaining targets. His aging grey eyes blinked through HUD options as he raised a gauntleted fist and fired four small rocket powered projectiles. The soldiers barely had time to scream a warning to one another before they were simply gone. Only wet stains on the rubble to tell that they had been there.
The man grunted and began to move again, fighting his way passed the enemy front as he dealt death like sabaak cards.