Shadow War Armageddon - The Rescue Mission

Bit of an oddity this one. You may remember our battle report for Shadow Armageddon almost a year ago. If not you can familiarise yourself HERE. Lee's Orks got pretty much shot off the table, resulting in me capturing a couple of his Orks, this automatically made the next mission a Rescue Mission.

This is where the problems started.

Firstly we got a bit carried away and didn't take enough photos during the game. Not the first time we have done that! I think we need to set an alarm clock/stopwatch countdown!

Secondly I took two pages of hastily scrawled notes, making sure I captured the important events. I promptly then mislaid the first page. Bugger. That seemed to be it, I have fairly good recall but the details of the game would be beyond me and I would only be able to remember a few of the most exciting bits. Plus normally Lee does half the report to give his perspective and without notes there was no chance of that.

It was about eight or nine months later that I stumbled upon page one in a sheaf of papers, thankfully I hadn't thrown away page two. After a frenzied search I found it and now had all the notes from the game. Thing was I HAD deleted all the photos (all four of them) from the game. This presented a new problem. After all this time though I wasn't prepared to give up!

I decided to stretch my narrative muscles and write it as all out fiction. The previous report had incorporated a fair bit of that as an intro so I just picked up from that and expanded it. I wrote all the Marine stuff first and then went back and did the Ork stuff after (just a couple of weeks ago), trying to  inject a bit of the fun and character that comes to Lee so naturally. It was so far after the event that I didn't think that it was fair to make Lee try to remember game parts from nine months ago and also I hadn't left much wiggle room after writing Apollyon's part.

So, here we go! Hopefully you will get an idea of how the game went and if not you will at least like it as a short story. Feel free to comment below either way!

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Apollyon snarled as he kicked the slumped Greenskin, hard. It grunted and looked up, shooting him a belligerent look of pure hate, low animal cunning reflected in its eyes.

“Come on Emperor damn you! Tell me! Tell me how you and your friends keep getting down here “

He cuffed the bound alien for good measure. Blood drooled from the corner of its jutting jaw from the blow and it grinned maliciously before uttering a series of grunts and bellows.  Apollyon could discern little from them but did pick out what sounded like the words ‘oomies’, ‘skragged’ and ‘lads’, the rest was little more than bestial roars.

“Useless wretch,” he muttered, turning away from the Ork. He thumbed his vox and it crackled into life, a low buzz of static hinting at the interference that had plagued communications in recent weeks. Whether a result of the damage done to Armageddon’s infrastructure or some xenos influence he was unsure, he wasn’t even sure he cared. He just wanted to get this Greenskin back to base so that it could be probed psychically by the Librarius. To that end, he reflected, he probably shouldn’t damage it too much. He quelled the temptation to kick the xenos filth again and spoke into his vox:

“Base Rho Alpha Three Six, this is Apollyon requesting Landspeeder Storm extraction with high value cargo from Sector Two Four Beta, respond!” His words were greeted by a squeal and then a hiss of static. He resisted the urge to smack the comms device, partly because it was attached to his skull but mainly because he didn’t want to anger the machine spirit within. It was not wise to antagonise such things, no matter how frustrating they were being. Throne, but he was in an ill humour! He couldn’t see his mood improving anytime soon either. Not till the Greenskin was delivered and they could get back to normal operations. He switched to the Squad channel, even that bore a low hiss of white noise. 

“Caeon, report, any sign of them?”

The Sniper lookout scanned the area in front of him with his scope. The visibility was terrible and no matter the setting, his view was obscured by gloom and smoke and other toxic vapours.  All of their equipment had taken a battering in the operations of the last few weeks and none of it was functioning at full capacity. He was thankful that it was working at all.

“ Nothing here Sergea…” he stopped as a shot rang out in the dark. Moments later another shot sounded and to his left Orosius grunted and fell from the gantry, tumbling into the gloom, a dull thud signalling his impact below. “Contact, Contact!” Caeon roared, “Orosius is down! They are here!” Another shot whistled past him and he ducked into cover, "Contact!" He yelled again. "They are in the Mortarium, back towards the residential sector!”  He braced himself and fired over the barrier on the gantry, gratified to hear a savage bellow as at least one of his shots hit home.

Apollyon whirled towards the sudden activity. He activated his vox and once again was assaulted by static. He ignored it. “Base Rho Alpha Three Six! We have engaged! They are right on top of us! Extraction required now dammit, NOW!” He ripped the vox system from his head, Machine Spirits be damned, he’d been looking forward to a fight. Activating his chainsword, with a mighty frenzied roar he charged into battle. 

*

Boss Snikbang! snickered (a total coincidence, it wasn't how he got his name. It was actually from the 'SNIK' sound that his knife tended to make as it slid into one of his countless unaware victims - besides he didn't know what snickered actually meant) as he watched the Scout tumble from the gantry in the gloom. Steady Baz had always been a useless shot and now the not-beakies knew they were there and were on alert. It had been up to him to show da boyz how it was done and take the sentry out, he might have been the one that hit him but the not-beakie had fallen anyway (that was the bang! part of his name, that was.)  Not the way he liked to do things, no, not at all. Blood Axes was all about  the stabbing and not the Dakka. Oh well, he was starting to think most of these lads weren't going to cut it anyways (again, the irony of that statement would have been lost on him).

One of the new yoofs, Sneak, had shown some promise. Shame he'd been under the not-beakie when it fell. Snikbang had heard the muffled grunt from his shadowy position, being a Kommando meant excellent hearing on top of being ded sneaky. Now the whole covert nature of the operation was Squig crap. Worse still, now all the boyz were opening up, to little effect, their exuberance reducing their already woeful aim to non-existent levels. Once again he gave the order to advance, with a bellow rather than all those nice proper hand signals. He missed the days when his squad was proper cunning but brutal. Those boyz was proper Orks, true he'd got most of them killed but 'that's wot soldiers did, they died'. He couldn't see much being different here to be honest. Problem was, he was running out of volunteers, hence actually running this rescue mission. Word must be getting round, recruits were getting harder to come by.

This mission was unlikely to change things either. He sank his face into one meaty palm as 'Happy' Zug went down in a hail of fire, less Happy Zug, more unlucky Zug. This was turning into a disaster, again. He lifted his head to witness  Hatz and Wobbles cowering from precision sniper shots spanging from their mausoleum cover. At least Stretch was heading for the scout that had fallen, with any luck he might get Sneak up again too as he dispatched the helpless not-beakie. Right, there was nothing for it, Boss Snikbang! was going to have to show them how it was done. Again. Typical, he mused (well, as much as an Ork is capable of musing - which isn't much) you wanted something done you had to do it yourself. Grabbing his knife in one hand he started sneaking forward. Zog it, at least his ladz would make a decent distraction if nothing else.

*

Apollyon charged straight at the Greenskin making a move on the downed Orosius. The wounded scout was crawling to safety on shattered legs whilst trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from his abdomen. He managed to glance at his Sergeant as he saved his life, blocking the blow meant for the wounded scout from a mighty cleaver. Apollyon grunted as he bore the force of the blow. Orks were strong, very strong, and it took two hands just to hang on to his chainsword such was the brute strength of the strike, which surely would have killed the stricken Orosius.  He noted another Ork lying in the gloom from which Orosius had crawled. He had little time to dwell upon what had happened though.

“Not today, Filth!” He spat, the strain showing on his face as he glared at his opponent, “Today you die!” He forced the cleaver away and lunged with his Chainsword, the teeth cutting into green flesh. The Ork roared and swatted the weapon away, gouging itself further on the buzzing teeth. Still, it gave the creature time to disappear into the shadows. Apollyon, frustrated by his quarry’s escape snarled and drove his chainsword into the groaning Ork at his feet, silencing its bleating. Movement behind him caused him to spin and he only just dodged the cleaver aimed for his head, the blade glancing off his pauldron.

“You should have stayed hidden Ork” the reply from the Greenskin was incomprehensible but the feeling of malevolence was clear. He darted to the side as the Ork again tried to remove his head, bringing his blade up in a riposte that his training master might have actually congratulated him on, had he been a witness. The teeth cut deep once more into the Ork, a mortal blow for most foes. But Orks are not most foes and the creature just cuffed him on reflex, nearly rendering him unconscious. Dazed, he barely managed to parry the creature's next few strikes and he knew that the longer the fight went on the more likely he would be struck down.

“Time to finish this,” he snarled, and dove under the next telegraphed blow. His strike was true and cleaved deep enough into the Ork to fell it. He had no time to make sure it was truly dead though, more Greenskin were approaching through the gloom, firing as they went and he was forced to dive to the ground to avoid being shredded by primitive ballistics. He looked up at the advancing aliens as one dropped its hammer as it was punched from its feet by Bolter fire. A cry of triumph from above identified the youthful Zakian as the shooter.  A steady rhythm of bolter fire echoed from above, punctuated with the intermittent hiss and snap of a Sniper Rifle. The roar of Nikkaeon’s Heavy Bolter was absent though, either he was down or he was biding his time, Apollyon hoped it was the latter, his firepower would be needed to repel this attack.

*

Sneakily advancing through the shadows Snikbang! saw Klank crash to the floor, dropping his precious hammer as he clutched his right shoulder. Most of his other lads were pinned by disciplined fire from above but at least it looked like Zug had learnt his lesson and was skulking towards the captives having pulled himself back together (literally it seemed). The situation could be worse all things considered. He was still perfectly intact after all. Plus that crazy not-beakie with the whirring blade had been forced back into cover by one of the new ladz. Not all was lost. Not yet. He'd get a proper fight out of this or his name wasn't Boss Snikbang!.

Thing was there was a fair bit of open ground  to cover to get stuck in proper. Snikbang! wasn't a fan of open ground, very hard to be sneaky without proper cover. Seeing Hatz and Skrabble nearby, blind firing over a peice of rubble he roared at them to join him. More targets couldn't be a bad thing if he was going to to have to make a run for it. Thankfully the other lads that were still standing were doing a decent job of keeping the not-beakies occupied.

"right, you Zoggin gits!" he bellowed as Hazt and Skrabble joined him, "time to give it to them humies good! When I givs the word we charge right? Wiv all the Dakka we can give em!" he neglected to mention that he wouldn't be Dakkaing at all and was going to head for the nearest shadowed area as his brave boyz ran the gauntlet. "On the count of lots! WUN, TOO erm. FREE... MORE THAN FREE!! .. LOTS!"

As he got to the highest number that any Ork knew to count to they all burst from cover and started charging toward the Ultramarine Scout's position. Well, Snikbang! charged off towards a nice secluded section where he could flank the enemy but no one needed to know that part of the plan. Suddenly the sound of the battle changed as a deep staccato thud joined the soundtrack of war. Snikbang! just about had time to ponder this with his excellent commando hearing before there were a number of dull explosions within him causing holes to appear where there had been no holes before. he managed a few more metres before even he had to submit to gravity and physiology and stumble to the floor which was rapidly becoming covered with bits of the Ork Boss that he would much rather were not on the floor and still a part of him. Zog it he thought, getting a bit sleepy, he'd skrag em good and proper after a breather.

*

As the fire on his position lessened due to the Heavy Bolter's overwatch fire, Apollyon got back to his feet. The Ork warlord had been badly wounded by Nikkaeon’s salvo and was down on one knee and hands, there were closer, smaller targets though and he felt his frenzy rise as he thumbed his chainsword activation key and it roared into life. At the last moment he recalled one of his lessons from Master Tertius during a training duel back on Macragge many years ago...

“Apollyon, you are too impulsive, to follow the edicts of Guilliman and therefore the Codex itself one must always adhere to the theoretical and the practical”. The swordmaster casually knocked the duelling blade from the young initiate's hand and spun round with an entirely extravagant flourish, cracking Apollyon on the ribs with the flat of his own weapon. The bruise would serve as a painful reminder of the lesson, at least till further augmentation was carried out, then such a blow would barely be noticed and heal almost immediately. Apollyon staggered, weighing up his next move.  Breath streamed from him in the crisp cold air as he caught his breath.

"Analyse, strategize and defeat your enemy armed with this knowledge. Information is your greatest weapon, more so than your wargear, more so than your armour, more so even than the body with which you will be gifted. Until you realise this you will not be ready to serve the Emperor”

Tertius’s mellifluous tones, rich yet honeyed, rankled at Apollyon and he dove for his dropped weapon, wincing at the grinding of his ribs. He rolled and came up with the short sword, only to find his training master’s blade already at his throat.

“How…” he started, pausing with a gasp as his vocal cords flexed on the edge of the duelling blade.

“How did I anticipate your move?”  Tertius smiled the patient smile of a teacher that has delivered the same effective lesson a thousand times. “That is simple, I used the theoretical and the practical.” He turned the blade a fraction, to emphasize his point. “Theoretical; your impulsive nature drives you to attack, you would look to retrieve your weapon as soon as possible and make an immediate and rash strike. “ He paused for effect.  “Practical; from that it was possible to calculate exactly where you would be and what your movement would be. You are clumsy and telegraphed like an Ork." The honeyed tone faded and his voice hardened, “ I expect better, the EMPEROR expects better, and if you cannot learn to be better then you will have no place here. Leave savagery and fury to the dogs of Russ or the blood drinkers. Courage and Honour are all you need here; brawn must be tempered by the brain.  This you must learn…”

The memory faded, having taken scant seconds; Apollyon took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Theoretical;” he mused “Killing the biggest Ork will cause the others to retreat, ensuring the quickest victory and minimal use of ammunition and casualties.” He paused and smiled nastily. “Practical; ending that green bastard will feel REALLY good.” He slowly stalked towards the stricken Ork, ignoring the two other Greenskins to his side. Even down on its knees the Ork Boss was massive. As he approached it glowered at him but could not rise. The craters in its flesh from Nikkaeon’s heavy bolter still smoked slightly, any other foe would have been eviscerated.  He raised his chainsword to deliver the coup de grace.

The Ork’s hand shot out, inhumanly fast, nothing that big should be able to move that fast. Its meaty fist closed round his throat and lifted Apollyon from the ground, his chainsword clattering to the floor revving impotently.  A low guttural laugh resonated from the Ork, and despite the obvious pain etched in its face and predatory eyes it smiled, baring its yellow fangs. Hot feotid breath assaulted Apollyon’s nostrils.

“Theo—theoretical;” he gasped, “ Target is extremely resistant to damage and diffi…difficult to kill.” He struggled for breath. “Further theoretical;, vul..vulnerable point must be attac..ked in order to ensure lethal strike.” He smiled. The Ork, too dumb to realise what was happening, due to either blood loss or just general low intellect, just squeezed harder. Thankfully, wounded as it was, it was at a fraction of its full strength or Appollyon's neck would have snapped in seconds.

”Practical;” He paused, thinking once again of Tertius, “pract.. ical;…” He pulled his combat blade from its sheath at his waist and thrust it into the Ork’s arm pit ripping up with all his strength and severing the brachial plexus and anxilliary nerve in one movement.  “Practical; I…was hoping you’d do that,” he finished. The Ork Boss’s grip loosed and Apollyon dropped to his feet in a crouch before jumping up and twisting, slicing the brute’s throat. Bright arterial blood jetted out as he span, covering his armour.  The Ork slumped to the ground and stayed still, blood pooling round its massive form. He heard the cries of shock and consternation from the other Orks and knew the battle was done. Striding away from the form of the Ork Boss to check on Orosius, he noticed that at least one Ork had been freed. Hopefully they still had the other for interrogation back at base.