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Fandom Left 40k Dead Reboot(Closed)

Elekta Kount

Da Warboss
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"Sickness, disease, plague and pox, suffering and the slow, living rot. Such wondrous gifts does Nurgle seek to bestow upon the unworthy human cattle of the Imperium. We are merely the vectors by which his virulent beneficence may be spread to the undeserving masses."
-Urgloth Rotheart
 
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-Zombie Horde-
++++DEFEND POSITION++++
++Emperor Protects++

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"By the Holiness of the Emperor! Hold them back!"
A voice could be heard echoing through the corrdiors, as it belonged to a rather prestigious individual: General Maximus Mickenheim of the Imperium of Man. The good general was at the moment in the center of a ethnically mixed group of guardsmen, each standing out with their respective uniforms. These guardsmen were on the defensive, positioning themselves in the cover on an elevated walkway, defending against the horde of undead currently encroaching on their position, meeting their advances with hot lasbolts.
Swarms of the walking dead came pouring out of the doorway of the central doorway, slumping forward as fast they could waddle, almost trampling each other as their arms were outstretched to entangle the first breathing thing they touch. Their numbers seemed to have consisted of a mix of dead guardsmen and ship marines, not to mention a fair few number of crewmen whom had once proudly crewed the vessel they wonder.
"These bastards are more persistent then a horde of orks sluggas!" A guardsmen in a yellow trenchcoat yelled, muffled only by the rebreather on his face. This particular fellow was Private Epathus Homza of the Armageddon 51st Steel Legion, a man known for his love of burning the enemies of man, but at the moment seemed to be stuck with only a mere lasgun. "But hell! They still look half as ugly as those fu*king greenskins!"
"Shut up your mouth, peasant! And concentrate on your fire!" Another guardsmen shouted back, this was was dressed in rather lavish gear including a tricone and a powdered wig, which made made him stand out even more so then the guardmen in the trenchcoat. This rather finely dressed gentlmen was a Private Joël De Villepin of the 21st Scintillan Fusilier Regiment. The undead horde was certainly an enemy below the standards as such as Joël, and he would have made a complaint to his commanding officer had he not have to blow the infected man's brains out. Suddenly, another bandana guardsmen roughly bumped into the Scintillin. "Oof, watch where your going, ser-"
Joel didn't have much of a chance to finish his sentence before the bandana wearing individual yelled, as he brought up an item in his robotic hand up to his mouth. Turned out it was a frag grenade, and as the bandana wearing individual brought it up, he pulled the pin using his bear teeth, before chucking the bomb at the enemy with full force. "Eat this, sh*tbags!" The bandana wearing individual yelled, he was Private Morgan Gubitosi of the Catachan XVIIII Regiment "The Firestorm Devils". The frag grenade hurtled into the horde of enemy liking a speeding bullet, flying so fast it embedded itself within the skull of undead. Within mere seconds, the grenade went off with a bang, sending chunks of dead flesh flying in ever direction.
Most of the guardsmen quickly took cover as the chunks rained about their position, but not the proud Scintillan, as bits of flesh bounced off of his carapace uniform. This did not please the the Scintillan one bit.
"You savage! Look what you have done!" Joel exclaimed, looking down in disgust at his dirtied uniform, then glared at the Catachan. "You have sullied the uniform of your superior! What do you have to say for this unspeakable act!?"[/FONT]
"Oh I'm sorry, piss-brains..." Morgan growled, rising to meet the Scintillan's glare, a rather calm but angry expression on his own face."...do you want me to wipe that off with my f*cking boot? And while I'm at it, your f*cking ass and face as well?"
"Uh guys, not to interrupt, but..." Epathus said, peaking his head out of cover from inbetween the two. "... we got more of those bastards coming."
Epathus was indeed correct, as while the Catachan's grenade had cleared the horde, more were filing into the room to take their place.
"Secutor! How much longer until you get that door open!?" The General shouted at the sector right behind him, as he sent another volley of lasbolts into the horde of the undead.
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Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Battle was like music, one that was fluid and evermoving, but always the same. For Victor, the dance was the act of reloading and bringing down the undead. Though not a graceful song, it had its own beauty. The sizzle of an empty mag and the clap of another one being shoved in was a quarter note, the increasingly loud crack of a lasgun a crescendo. The groans of the dead were the background. Battle was a place where heroes were born and brought down in moments. Victor was determined to make sure he took down some of the bastards with him. Such was the Emperor's Will. He took up a position near the side of the main formation, firing into the onrushing horde from the flanks and ensuring none tried to get around them. He spoke not a word, focusing solely on the music of battle. Such a beautiful thing.
 
Castor Lux, or more formally referred to by his mechanicus brethren as SLX-414, was a massive melding of machine and man. Six foot four with a massive servo-arm mounted at either side of him, and two ballistic mechanendrites at his shoulders, he was easy to spot out...and if you still couldn't see him, the mechanicus red robes did was the icing on the cake. He and the rest of Myrmidon force 45-8 had gotten stuck into this unaccounted for possibility...and to make matters worse, he was cut off from the surviving members of his force. They had been a modest force, nothing in the numbers like the guard, but as they were better outfitted and by all means more prepared for whatever may come than the standard guardsmen, you did need less of them. But since this was such an out of the realm possibility, their modest numbers had not only put them at disadvantage, but had proved to separate them.

A data-jack mounted to the top of his wrist was plugged into a port on the door he was working on, a small servo-skull hovering nearby as it aided him. The jack led from the door, into his body, and straight into an MIU, or mind impulse unit. Thanks to the MIU, he could 'talk' directly with the machine spirit, and coax it into aiding them. The only problem in this situation...was the machine spirit in question was rather unyielding in the idea that it's door would not open, and it did not care who you were. At the barking from the general, a heavy sigh escaped the facial 'mask' of the secutor. The vox synthesizer in his respirator unit worked in perfect harmony with his more 'organic' voice, turning an already deep voice into something far deeper, more commanding more...intimidating, the kind of voice you'd expect a baneblade to have if it it could speak...or to a smaller and more rational degree, a leman russ Eradicator pattern.

"It would take...only a few more minutes. But I calculate the chances of you giving me that time is....shrinking. Very well then...I will endeavor not to damage the precious machine spirit...and still give us our exit." . Disconnecting himself from the door's port, he shut it, and pulled the power axe up above his head...and slammed the blade down into the door with calculated precision, avoiding damage to the precious actual machine part, and cutting right into the less important sections. Pulling his blade back out and setting it at his side, the servo-arms sprung into action, grabbing either side of the now gaping wound in the door, and shoving and prying it open with ease.

Stepping back and holding the power axe in a 'walking stick' like fashion, he turned towards the guardsman, and the horde before them. The mechanendrites mounted to his shoulders sprung to life, using his internal potentia coil as a power source to fire las shot after las shot. Shot after shot, they alternated, firing into the horde out ahead. As if this wasn't enough, he pulled his laspistol free with his free hand, taking shots as well, forming a one man triple volley. The precision of energy weapons...the beauty and power they held...the knowledge one could gain from it...something only a member of Sollex could appreciate. "Inhuman enemies of the omnissiah are like any enemy of the Omnissiah. They will be cut down and destroyed by the faithful. General Mickenheim, I suggest you begin tactical withdrawal."
 
Apollox Laine, Harakoni corporal, was taking careful shots at the attacking zombies, trying to take out as many as possible with shots given to him by the charge cells. "Great job secutor." he said in a sarcastic tone, with a voice slightly muffled by his pressure helmet "Are you sure you will be able to close those doors now? We don't want those things following us, and doors that were pried open tend to malfunction later on." This rather disrespectful answer attracted the attention of Sulvan Ryker, a commissar originating from Cadian unit. "Watch that tone guardsman! Secutor has opened a potential way out of this stalemate, and we should be greatful for this!" Corporal rolled his eyes and answered "I'd like to remind everyone that escape route…" he stopped for a second, obviously expecting some sort of response from the commissar "Escape route will do us no good if we end up in an exact same situation as here. I'll scout ahead and ensure its safe, or at least defensible in there" with these words Apollox hung the lascarbine from his back, pulling out the autopistol and combat knife instead "If I don't give any sign of life after five seconds, or if zombies start pouring out, you can assume its not safe." then, Harakoni guardsman jumped into the hole created by Castor.
 
Colour Sergeant Keating stood proudly in the centre of the group of Guardsmen. Already of impressive height and build, his near pure Pith Helmet with its gold glinting regimental crest in the centre of it, added another few inches. And his broad chest was just about confined within the blazing red tunic of the Praetorians, on top of which lay a tan flak vest, emblazoned with the Crimson Lion of Praetoria.

Despite the carnage and bloodshed around him, his helmet and uniform were still resplendently clean. His lasgun was pressed into the square of his shoulder, snapping off aimed shots at the approaching hordes, at this increasingly close range each shot caught the head of one of the shambling monstrosities, punching through the diseased flesh with ease. He lowers his rifle from his shoulder. His moustache near enough quivering with excitement, He casts his pale blue eyes amongst the arrayed guardsman. A bastard hybrid squad of multiple differing regiments and specialities.

“Keep up the fire chaps. We shall show these thrice damned demonic beasts that whilst the Emperor’s servants still draw breath they shall find no victory here today,”

Despite not yelling his deed bass like voice travels along the ranks of the guard, above the moans of the creatures and the crackle of gunfire, a skill honed on the drill yards of Praetoria.
 
"Pirvate Gubitosi! Colour Sergeant Keating! Lieutenant Vatanam! Corpral Rictus! Kasrkin! " The General yelled, pacing about the makeshift battlements as he called to attention the guardsmen. "Follow the Corporal's example and clear the path forward! The rest of you cover our rear!"
Private Morgan growled at the orders, but nevertheless, stood up. "We'll finish this later, sh*face..." The Catachan sneered, before making his way to the rear.
"Dude, is it really smart to be pissing off a Catachan?"
"Shut up, peasant." Was the only thing that Joel said, before bringing the barrel of his lascarbine to bear.
"Commissar! I am entrusting the rear guard to you! Make sure their will do not falter, no they throw they're lives away carelessly..." The General said, as he raised his laspistol into the air, then adding in a lower voice. "...we need not give our enemy anymore of the Emperor's soldiers..."
With that the General advanced after the vanguard, his retinue following along as he did.
"Great, we're stuck with the commissar..." Epathus muttered, before catching a glimpse of the commissar behind him. "...I mean yay...We get to serve with the commissar...in the Emperor's name..." Epathus said, hastily turning focusing his attention back to the horde and firing another volley of lasbolts into the onslaught...
...Meanwhile...
The entrance had given way to a narrow corridor that seemed to lead to a maintenance walkway filled with pipes
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"You have your orders! Clear the path forward! For the Emperor!"
"Sir yes sir..." The Catachan growled, slinging his lascarbine over his body, as he unsheathed his notorious catachan fang. Morgan charged, firing his lascarbine with one hand, with his Catachan fang in the other. Upon meeting the first of the undead, Morgan brought up his knife with frietne amount of speed, impaling his knife into the skull of the undead. The fang went stright through the skull as if it was cutting through butter, then using his foot, Morgan gave the undead a good kick to the chest, sending the corpse flying back into another, before advancing further...
"Sector! How much further until we reach the armo-" The General was interrupted when somthing grasp onto one of his legs. Almost instinctively, the General brought the foot up and slammed it down, slamming the sole of his foot into the head of an undead, smashing it's skull between the sole of his foot and the steel walkway below. The body went limp, as it fell down the hole it had crawled out of. It was then, one of the General's bodyguards quickly rush to his aid, aiming his lasgun into the hole and opening up.
"As I was saying..." The General growled, kicking off the remains of the undead. "...how much further until we reach the armory?"
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Victor's pride swelled as he was chosen to lead the charge. Behind the leather gasmask he smiled gleefully. A chance for death in the Emperor's name! "For the Endsieg! For the Gottkaiser! For Krieg!" He shouted, storming ahead with his bayonet fixed. He blasted and stabbed, bashed and thrusted. The fervor of the Emperor and his unforgiving wrath filled him. All the dead would fall. His Kaiser willed it!
 
Keating immediately ceases fire as the order is called out, the unread creature before him collapsing to its knees, his last shot having left a perfect hole between its eyes leaving a clear view of the creatures behind it. Clicking his heels together he snaps a salute in the General’s direction.

“Very good Sir!”

In a swift movement he takes the bayonet from his belt loop, and fixes it to his rifle. There was much to be said about the power of the Lasgun, a rippling fusilade of concentrated fire followed by ranked volleys would pit a stop to most. But if you really wanted to clear a path, then you had to go old fashioned. Fix bayonets and show them the cold steel. Keating was in many ways a simple man, and his rather simple belief in his tools, not to mention the 2 decades of Praetoria instilled discipline, gave him supreme confidence even in dark times such as this where the odds were very much against him. He pauses by the doorway, looking over his shoulder.

“Come on then, you heard the General. Glory lies on the other side of that hatchway, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to take it all,”

He snaps a second salute to the sole officer of the group to proceed through the doorway, Lieutenant Vatanam.

“And don’t you worry Sir, stick with me and we'll make you a Captain yet,”

He made his way through the opened doorway, his white Pith Helmet stark against the dark gloom. Always lead from the front, especially for a NCO like himself. Officers were a breed apart from the standard Guardsman. Officers through circumstances of birth, a silver spoon in their mouths or just dumb luck. The chance of a Guardsman getting a commission was few and far between. An NCO however was one of them , almost 2 decades ago he had been a simple guardsman, and now he had reached this position, his role was to motivate and inspire, a common soldier done good.

Emerging into the darkened corridor he was almost immediately set on by one if the creatures. Too close to open fire he swung the butt of his rifle, catching the creature with a forceful blow to the head and causing it to stumble. With a wordless war cry on his lips he lunged forwards, his rifle gripped in 2 hands, his bayonet slipping through the diseased flesh and bone of the creature’s skull as if it was paper. The light in its eyes die and it collapses. A wry grin forms on his lips as he sees the Catachan dispatch another creature.

“That’s it lads, give it to them!”

He advances forward slowly and methodically, rifle at waist height And bayonet at the ready.
 
"You heard the general! We cover forward team's backs, they find us a safe route to armory! Don't fear the enemy, I have fought much stronger and more numerous foes with less troops under my command on Cadia, and still won! We can hold this position for as long as is necesary, and even more!". Sulvan stood in the back of the formation, looking for any enemies that could enter chainsword range. "As long as you stay on your positions and do what you were trained for, these corrupted corpses will not even get close to harming anyone!" Ryker then gave off several shots from his laspistol and backed off to reload, ending up near Castor "Secutor, can you calculate how much longer will we be able to keep up the defense with our current ammunition supply?" commissar said quietly, trying not to be heard by guardsmen "We've been fighting for quite a while, and I do not need a cogitator in my head to know there are more potential enemies than we have charge packs.".

Other place, but roughly at the same time

Apollox stabbed a zombie in the head with his knife, and fired off a burst from his autopistol above its shoulder, cutting down several more monsters. He ripped the knife out of corpse's skull and jumped back towards charging guardsmen. "It could be better, but at least we have more options than back in that room. That first turn to the left leads to janitor servitors closet, don't go there, I almost got cornered." corporal finished talking, fired another several bursts from the autopistol and started speaking again while reloading "Armory is propably down the main hallway, we should be able to reach it unless next junction looks like the room behind us."
 
The secutor continued to steadily fire volley after volley, the third beam dropping off from the others every so often as he had to 'ready' the laspistol again. Hearing the general in his vox set, he spoke into it, ever calm. "Calculating your departure time and average travel time...factoring in length of area...you will be within a clearing in approximately five minutes. In said clearing will be a set of stairs and platforms...by proceeding up these, you will reach your destination. It is suggested that we begin full pull back into the tunnel, so that I may seal the door behind us and engage bolting...percentages of survival drop the longer we hold." The secutor could hardly be heard over the din of battle, and since the vox set was built directly into his 'mask' system, he didn't have to talk loud to begin with.

At the commisars question, the secutor continued to fire forward, keeping his deep voice low so only the designated recipient would hear. "I approximate thirteen point three minutes until we are forced to engage in close quarters...and it is decreasing as we continue. I am more than capable of surviving for some time, the weakness of the flesh does not limit me as it once did...but your guardsmen will not stand long against such numbers...I would engage them at the front line, but simulations and calculations suggest it is best I stay near our exit, so I may promptly seal it behind us.". A small surge of numbers poured into the room, the secutor giving an annoyed sound. Pouring more energy into his mechanendrites, the lasers power upped, and he was capable of cutting down a small portion of the numbers with ease. Every shot landed it's mark with calculated skill, blasting large burn holes through the skulls of the enemy, the process repeating each time the ballistic fired again.
 
Vatanam returned the salute, and followed the example of the captain, advancing slowly alongside him. In the dark bunkers and trenches of countless battlefields, it was Vatanam that was always at the front, armed with whatever weapons he had. They called him "The Silent Club" before he was made lieutenant, a nicknamed earned in a huge bunker-complex on Cadia. Hordes of Chaos cultists infested its tunnels, performing their foul rituals in armories and bloody barracks. But it was the 204th Krieg Assault Regiment that put an end to these heretics. Using classic "blowtorch and corkscrew" tactics, the Regiment cleared it out room by room. Vatanam often pushed deep into enemy lines, butchering isolated groups of traitorous swine with a few select men and slipping out hours before the main Guardsmen force came in. However, many Kriegsmen fell in the battle, either to the foul magics of the enemy or in ambushes. But not Vatanam. No, it'd take much more to kill him than a cultist's butterknife.

Seeking to save some ammo for bigger groups, Vatanam resorted to his favorite weapon: a Type XI Catachan steel bayonet. This was relatively standard issue for the 204th, thanks to a large supply of the weapons being issued back at Vraks. It was as sharp as a Librarian's mind, the result of constant sharpening and testing on ration cans and empty barrels. it had proven remarkably effective against the undead. One of the undead pushed itself onto the bayonet at the end of his rifle, growling hungrily at him. With a grimace, Vatanam punched its head repeatedly till its skull caved and its brain turned to mush. He threw the body off his rifle, and then kept stabbing away with his bayonet. How long could he keep this up?
 
Kryn had been firing his autogun sparingly, using single shots to kill the shambling undead. Most guardsmen scoffed and turned their noses up on autoguns, but the slugs kept travelling after they had hit the first target, making it perfect for the situation at hand. He heard his name and was sent to go clear a hall to the armory, he stopped and hit the selector switch to full automatic, there was no need to aim in close confines.

Before he crossed the threshold of the door, he turned two valves on his respirator, opening the intake tubes of the nitro-chems. His back straightened as his breathing became heavy and erratic. His eyes were wide with rage as he charged past the Colour sergeant, Kasrkin, and Catachan. Spraying down undead and screaming like a madman, his voice dulled by the apparatus on his face. "KILL... EMPORER... KILL FOR EMPORER!!!" he shouted as he charged next to the Kriegsman, the report of his gun sounding like thunder in the confined space. his mag ran out, and instead of reloading, he reversed the weapon and started bludgeoning undead left and right like a carpenter with a hammer.
 
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"Well that's just..."
"Running! Running! Running!" A muffled voice echoed through the maintenance tunnel. A quick look to the rear would reveal the last of the group, the Armagoddon and the Scitillian, rushing through the broken gate. "By the Emperor! There right on our asses!"
"Get the gate closed!" The General yelled, pointing his powersword at the two guadsmen.
"Yessir!""Eck!"
Each guardsmen ran to one side of the door then, Epthaus using his back and Joel used his shoulder, began to heave the door back into it's original shut state. They narrowly managed to get the door shut as the zombies fell inches from entering the tunnel.
"Emperorsaveus! Emperosaveus! Emperorsaveus!"
"Shut up and push! Peasant!" The voice of the Scintillian was heard yelling from the rear, as the two guardsmen held the door shut against the pressure of some many. But the more they held, the more it seemed they were being pushed back...
"Sector, take to the rear! Ensure that our rear guard is secure." The General said firmly, before turning to the commissar. "Commissar! If you would please! Join me at the front!"
Meanwhile at said front...
"Heh, so this how we going to do things? Alrighty then..." With that, the Catachan threw his lasgun onto his back, now fully ready to take on the enemy with his Catachan Fang. "...How about some friendly competition, boys? And to make things a little interesting,..."
The Catachan grinned, as he removed somthing from his flak vest. It appear to be a pack that contained items that looked to cigars. "...Lho-Leaf Tubs, picked up some dead Vahallen not to long ago, half his entrails had been clawed out..." Morgan said as another one of the accursed dead came charging at him. The Catachan didn't even turn his head, as within a quick blur the undead's head fly off it's original and feel quickly to the ground. "...before we get to the armory, the one who gets the most amount of melee kills without getting turned into one of these meatbags gets the entire pack.How about it?"
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Giving a nod of understanding, the imposing mechanicus member walked towards the back, meeting up with the armegeddon and the scitillian. "The weakness of your flesh and muscle will not forever hold this door....I will remedy this issue.". A servo claw spread out in either direction, before gaining a good grip and holding the gate shut again, fixing the issue of the horde pushing back the guardsmen. Calmly, he lifted his hand to a port, where the jack at the back of his wrist was pulled out and plugged in, letting him interface mentally with the machine again. The door had been heavily against opening in the first place, and it's spirit was aggrivated that the door had been opened anyways. Because of this, it was just a simple matter of 'persuading' the spirit to drop it's bolts, so it wouldn't have to open again. The secutor and spirit didn't have much of a quarrel, and not much longer after he plugged in, the satisfying noise of door bolts being engaged filling the air.

Servo arms withdrawing back to 'resting' position, he observed the two men who had held the door to begin with. "The rear has been secured, and with it, many lives. Your actions have increased the longevity of us for a time. I will remain at the rear, with accordance to your commanding officers wishes. Probability of survival increases should I remain here to ensure we are not over run from behind.". Pulling out his laspistol, he examined it for a moment ,before swapping out the pack lodged into it in favor of a more charged one, before placing it away. Using his power-axe as a walking stick of sorts, he lifted it up and made a small motion behind him. "It is suggests you begin to move with me."
 
"You know, some of us might have an advantage during this bet." Apollox replied to Catachan private's proposal "I prefer to stay at range, you have fun in the front. Although I am running dry on rounds and cells, I might have to join in regardless soon." with these words, Harakoni trooper backed off and swapped out the autopistol and knife for lascarbine. He started picking off zombies appearing from behind the fighting line. "Hey, slow down or you will get surrounded out there!" Laine shouted when Savlar chirurgeon ran past him and into the combat "Did he just take these stimulant drugs in the middle of the fight again? Isn't he supposed to be our medic or something?"

Sulvan ran up to the general and quietly voiced his doubts "General, I am afraid we can't keep it up much longer. According to the secutor, we have ammunition remaining for several minutes of intense combat. We need to get to the armory, or at least find a place to recharge our power cells, and we need to do it quickly." Ryker then ran into melee combat with accompanying sound of chainsword motor. He joined other guardsmen holding the line against undead. "Come on men, let us show these unholy monsters that Emperor's servants are not defeated so easily!" commissar kept shouting inspirational lines in between slashing the zombies with his chainsword "I tell you, if these things had any reason or free will left they would kneel and beg us for mercy!"
 
Vatanam continues to moves up with his comrades, focusing on guarding the flanks with blasts of his lasrifle or a quick stab of his bayonet. He barely heard the Catachan over the endless groan of the dead and the blasting sound of lascarbines, but silently took him up on his bet. His men could use the morale boost. Refilled with vigour, he begins to push ahead on the right, trying to push the zombies back to let his comrades take a breather. He knew that he would have to fall back at some point to rest, but hoped his little offensive deep into the servants of Chaos would be enough to save a life or two.

Then he became aware of the crazy chem-high Guardsmen bashing away at the undead while roaring in broken Low Gothic. That was quite a sight to see, if only they had been in the bunker on Cadia.
 
Keating grimaces as the chem addled guardsman begins his rampage, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. It was effective of that there was no doubt, and his rabid, salivating madman was clearing a path, but in Keating's mind he was no guardsman ,more like a war hound slipped from its leash, no discipline or order, just pure unbridled fury. He rejects the charge pack from this lasgun, pocketing it in his belt pouch and slipping a charged one into the rifle. Unlike the fast paced com bat of the catachan and the chem dog, he advances data steady pace, snapping of aimed shots, making sure not a shot is wasted, and that each thrust of his bayonet is a killing blow, catching the creatures in the head and neck areas, decapitation them in a fountain of foul juices which splash against the corners of his glistening black boots.

He grins at the Catachan's bet, letting out a loud bellow of laughter that rises above the sound of combat.

“And whoever comes last will be returning here to get their numbers to a more respectable level,”

Despite his lack of blistering charge towards the enemy, his constant movement forward, each attack he launched against the enemy not losing his any pace, means that he is still amongst the front of the group.
 
"As expected.""Whew, we are alive!"
Both guardsmen said, as they readied their weapons and advanced forward with the group.
"Very well, commissar, we follow your example!" The General shouted, as he raised his sword once more, using it to urge the men forward.
"Well that's a shame, but more for me." The catachan said with a grin, ducking under the swipe of one of the zombies, before tackling it from under and flipping the undead over his shoulder.
The group advanced forward quickly, cutting through the undead dotting the maintenance tunnel. It did not take them long to reach the end of the tunnel. As they exited, they entered what appeared to be a clearing. In front of them were several sets of stairs and platforms, all leading up to the top...
"Wow...now that's a long ways up..." Epathus said, bringing his hand up and squinted at the top of the pathways.
"Sector, in which direction is the armory?" The general asked, as he was examining the room...​
 
Coming up to join the rest of the group, the secutor studied their surroundings for a moment. The room they had found themselves in was a large and spacious one, with a door on either side of them. In the center of the room right before them, was a set of scafflolding stairs. Stairs, large walk way, stairs, repeat. "The armory is located directly above us, atop the scaffolding and forward. Probability of encountering more threats? Unidentifiable, I lack enough information to judge, there stands too many variables. Suggestion; Push forward to the armory.". Taking the time, the secutor went about checking his laspistol, ensuring that there was a sufficient amount of charge for it, before stowing it away and looking around. The infravisor stored in the 'mask' section of his face ran through several spectra for a moment, before he nodded. "As it stands, the room is clear."
 
"Well guardsmen, it appears we made it. As I said, no half-rotten corpse can stand up to those who bring the light of the Emperor. Now, lets move forward. We shall establish a defesive position on top of this scaffolding and..." as the commissar was to finisz his sentence, loud noise echoed from the maintenance corridor behind the group. Distinct sound of twisting metal, possibly security bulkhead being pried open. "Getting a better position might be advantageous sir." Apollox pointed out "And by the sound of that, we don't want to be caught in the open." Sulvan shook his head "Don't be a coward corporal! We could beat any daemon or mutant as long as we do not falter! Although it is indeed preferrable to take up a good position before engaging an unknown enemy." Ryker pointed towards the top of the scaffolding with his chainsword "Forward! We shall take this position and hold it against whatever comes behind us!"
 

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