"DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA! Wahahaha! We'z got'em gud!" the Shoota Boy relaxed his trigger finger for but a moment as he heard the shooter next to him click dry on ammo. "Wahaha! More dakka fer me then!" grinning widely before he found the world spinning as his 'comrade' gun-butted him with the makeshift blaster.
"More fer me you'z mean" the other said cockily as he once more open fired with whatever stolen ammunition he could loot, the gun firing skyward and all around as the two began to wrestle over it, friend and foe blasted all around from the careless tussle.
"Boyz! Yer ruining me hard-earned Waaugh!" the Ork Nob was quick to pummel the two down in a show of power, cockily smirking to his onlookers. "And dat iz why ya don't mess wiv-"
BOOM
"Reloading main cannon. Aiming. And... fire" a burst of fire bellowed in the distance and the Imperial Guardsmen took a moment to appreciate the shower of Ork gore in the distance, a symphony of howling thunder around them as the Basilisk units stormed the battlefield with fiery hell.
"Alright, enough sightseeing lads, nock another shell in and lets keep that Green Tide at bay." the onsite Sergeant ordered, followed by 'Aye Sir!'s all around before another round of thunder boomed off into the distance.
"Sir, the Eastern units have all been slain and the Green skins are attacking en masse from the flank" the sergeant did his best not to let his stoic facade drop at the words of his aide, though little could be done from the news.
"There was over 50,000 men there barely 4 hours ago..." he uttered to himself, truly taken aback by such overwhelming odds stacked against them. One would never guess it but this was the Imperial Guards war here. They started it in order to purge the Green Xenos filth and yet now they're holding a defensive parameter from all sides as the tide moves in with no sign of stopping.
This was not how this was supposed to go, they hadn't anticipated even a tenth of this many Orkz!
"When is the reinforcements due?" he asked, breath beginning to quicken at their impending demise.
The Guard looked deathly pale and the Sergeant's heart sank at what he feared was to come in response. "Any minute now Sir" he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding "But there have been some... alterations" fear once more became prevalent and the aide hurriedly elaborated "The reinforcements have all been withdrawn and the planet is seen beyond saving." all within earshot looked grim at the news because that could only mean one thing:
"They're declaring Exterminatus Sir."
"Keep firing! Today you will fall as men and women of the Imperium or you will fall by my laser fire as dogs!" The Commissar roared out, doing very little to revitalise the remaining Guardsmen, stranded with no way out beyond death.
Even the Earthshaker cannons had stopped firing, no doubt the result of that overwhelmingly large squadron of Stormboyz that had flown overhead barely minutes ago. You just don't see squads of that many Orks anywhere, the Big Mek Warboss here really showed his prowess with every technological marvel they managed to integrate into the war without it simply malfunctioning and bursting into further Ork death.
Private Jennes had been firing into this endless horde for far longer than she'd like to consider, having moved several miles on foot as the numbers shrank and another outfit she had posted in sank into oblivion. And as she watched her comrades die around her for what must have been nearing the hundred thousandth time this day, she realised that all any of them had left at this point was their faith in the God Emperor.
She wistfully considered how paltry that was, but she grasped tightly onto her faith, knowing that without it all would be lost.
"Do NOT stop firing! Grenades, plasma, flamers and laser fire, all welcome you to damnation Xenos scum!" and like that she watched as their metaphorical backbone drew his sword to buy the guard even one second more to find their faith, rewarded with the sight of the man literally ripped apart in the hands of Mega Nobz far bigger than they or he.
And with its approach she heard a mighty bellow of 'Waaugh!' as she closed her eyes, numbly pulling the trigger of her lasgun as it raised its power klaw to sign her end.
Only for it to never come.
Her eyes opened just in time to see the bisected, top heavy corpse of the armoured Nob drop to the ground with an incredible thud. She stared into the eyes - or rather, masked visage of her saviour and was shocked beyond words at what she saw. Whispers of the 'Death Korps' met her ears and reality caught up to her, willing tears away as she watched the hardy men and women of Krieg filter through their ranks with weapons drawn and death on hand, making headway in the only direction she had thought impossible.
That is to say, towards the enemy.
In a battle where they had spent countless hours shrinking further and further away from this horde, these soldiers were moving forward with calculated ease; their skill unprecedented and unmatched, their firepower awe-inspiring as the Earth once more shook with shells from their own salvaged guns and the artillery the Korps brought with them. The very way they seared through the horde with billowing laser fire, concentrated at the centre to forge their path onward through the Green Sea's forced parting, their flanks supported by Leman Russ, Destroyer's, Chimera's and more, the green tides turning red with blood with every step the Death Korps took, her saviour at its helm with Hellpistol spewing death with every pull of its trigger and power sword severing Ork flesh, armour and weaponry asunder with every swing, as if it were offended to exist in the same space as the Xenos filth.
She stood slowly, mute alongside her peers as they watched the war turn around so quickly. She watched looted tanks and Deff Dreads cease to exist under the focus of anti-tank Destroyers, Baneblades and Stormblades even making their presence known as they cut a swath into the thinning hordes with unparalleled weapon superiority.
She tentatively took a step forward and watched the guards around her do the same. She took another and they began to gather themselves as paces quickened, guns were retrieved, grenades were scavenged and cries echoed as all sprinted for the frontlines to see this war put to an end.
Stormboyz exploded into gore and bits when the Chimera Stormbolters opened fire, Nobz - the Ork elites fell to the plasma fire of the Krieg Grenadiers, bikers were steamrolled by tank treads and Weirdboyz burst into fiery death when the Hellhounds opened their burning maws.
Ten thousand lasguns, no, more than that entered into the fray at that point, drilling incisions through heart and brain, spine and skull in every direction. Orks began to turn and run as their overwhelming victory became whelmed indeed, fleeing as the drop of their numbers vastly overwhelmed the number of Krieg men slain.
They all followed this faceless leader, adorned in mask as the rest were; the shield they donned to survive their apocalyptic worlds as recompense for their actions stuck with them even in breathable environments such as here. But he was different even still.
The Grenadiers swarming his position took the mantle of the skull to symbolise the deaths of the people they once were, their lives forfeit to the cause until death claimed them as penance for their misdeeds.
The Commissar flanking his position on either side wore uniforms more decorated than the others and wore their caps with pride, swinging power swords and Laspistols about with incredible skill she had failed to see in her own commanding Commissar.
Even for the hardy men of the dead worlds of Krieg, these men were more than that.
Even for the Grenadiers of their Korps, these elite were more than that.
And even as the backbone of the Imperial Guard, these Commissar carved a path with more zeal and passion than she had ever witnessed.
But he at the front. Their nameless saviour, was something else entirely.
Hours passed and both sides took death tolls numbering in millions, the amount rising faster than anybody would ever dare to imagine.
For Warboss 'Ammer'n Nale, this wasn't quite what he had hoped for he must admit, but he knew he could remedy this given time.
Time he was learning he may not have.
"Whut d'ya mean ya canna stop'em?!" he paused on his contraption to roar at the smaller but still large Big Mek beside him, snarling as his mechanical cranium whirred and buzzed violently as if to emphasise his fury.
"I-I fink ya should give dem a look boss" he gestured to the horizon beyond them, a sea of green parting for men and women dressed as black as night and the intermingling soldiers of green and khaki that had taken up arms for what may have been the last time.
Nale knew that this was beyond the current Orky power he had as of now but he wouldn't concede that to a smaller, runtier Ork if he could help it. Instead he grunted and booted the Mek Nob onto his rear and hefted a Big Shoota from a nearby rack into his lap with a heavy 'clang'. "Better get out dere n' buy me some time den" he warned with no sign of budging on the subject.
The Nob knew to refuse was to have their infamous Mad Surgun go nuts with his body for the maybe twenty minutes before the Imperial Guard reached them.
He wisely ran with trigger held so tightly the metal began to creak from the force, roaring out 'DAKKA' repeatedly as Orks were so well known to.
Even a Snot knew that being melted via plasma, laser and melta fire was far more preferable than Mad Dok Gurglesnip getting even a minute alone with you.
"Bloody 'ell." Nale began clinking and clanking with his project with fervor, his time not at all what he'd wished for. "Mekboyz, grab yer guns n' sluggas and fight! Dokz, keep da Orkz fighting even if you have to put summit crazy in'em." he looked to Gurglesnip and smirked "Bring out da big gun"
"We're nearing the stronghold men! Stand strong and keep your trigger finger warm; we're going to need the Emperor's wrath and your faith to end this." roared the leftmost Commissar, his fellow officer currently dueling a group of four Nobz barely a metre from his position.
The Commander at the head of the lance continued to lay waste to his enemies with pathetic ease, his uniform tarnished a deep crimson with the blood of the thousands he alone had slain without missing a step forwards.
Morale rose higher and higher as three indomitable men strode forward with the lightest of wounds, their skill reminding them of the Super soldier Space Marines of the Imperium, perhaps more. But that just couldn't be right; these were mortal men...
They all watched wide-eyed as an Ork Stompa marched towards them-
"FIRE!"
and then as it plummeted in a smouldering ruin atop over a hundred Ork bodies as a barrage of several dozen different tanks opened fire simultaneously, eyes finding the raised arm of the Commander in signal, bombing runs following the chaos as he conducted his symphony of death.
The Guard shouldn't have this kind of power, not as unique soldiers. The Guard were hordes of bodies thrown into the fray until victory was forced. This was more akin to the ability of the Adeptus Astartes, but here they were, witness to it all.
Seconds became minutes and cheers echoed as the final Big Mek with Shoota clicking empty found himself impaled to the nearest workshop via Krieg Grenadier under Commissar order, the tip exploding seconds later in a fine red mist.
Their destination was within this final Ork Settlement. The Ork Guards were dead. The Nobz outside: dead. The turret Gretchin? Also dead.
If he hadn't run out of bombs cleansing the vast horde, he'd have simply ordered hell upon the fortress, but that was behind him now.
He'd make this personal.
"Fire" he said lowly with arm raised once more, his shadowing Stormblade's melting the heavy metal walls into liquid with astounding ease.
Goggles zeroed in on 'Ammer'n and he knew that with this, the war would end. His duties done with the saving of several tens of thousand Imperial lives.
But he had been foolish to think so.
"WAHAHAHAHA! WAAAUUUGHHHHHH!" realisation struck him and his most elite. Commissar and Grenadier screamed to disperse but they had no time.
And with the heaving screech of metal meeting metal, the Commander barely maneuvered himself aside just to bare witness to thousands of lives seared into nothing. A blast of proportions he recognised only from the machines this weapon had been torn from; the mighty Titan cannon from what must have been an Imperator or Warmonger class. Though where they managed to loot that he had no idea.
This Ork may be following a Warlord of proportions he hadn't even considered if they had something like this on hand.
A second blast followed the first and it became obvious that this was their last ditch effort here. He had to stop that.
Followed by his most loyal, he ran forward with unexpected speed in his haste, his sword butchering the Grots and Mekz manning the thing with reckless abandon, his men opening fire wherever they saw green to be extinguished even as the mouth continued to fire, swallowing more of his men with every word it spewed.
He silently awed at how the mighty weapon had yet to overheat but that was for later, for now he had to find the Mek manning this thing and tear him asunder. He could let Nale retreat for now, the lives of these people far more important.
A sickening gurgle spewed out from the last Ork to meet his blade before he found the makeshift cockpit, not even registering his opponent doping up for battle just to burst against the walls in a splatter of internals turned externals, the guilty party to his side with grenade launcher hissing after its last payload.
"Pardon me Sir but I believe that the Warboss is escaping" spoke the first Commissar as the second ushered all available bodies towards the stragglers.
"Probably" he muttered furiously, his anger reaching boiling point, his brothers in arms knowing him more than well enough to know that Nale had better be running fast if he didn't want to end up worse than this Mek...
Either of his hands met the shoulders of his Commissar's and he stopped for but a moment to regard them "Vale, Atlas, Please make-"
Vale scoffed, "We'll clean up" he said warmly, far warmer than he had any right to be with the horrifying appearance they all shared: slick with blood and wearing the visage of a cold and unfeeling weapon in the Empire's name.
"You have Imperial's to avenge Sir" Atlas seconded, both Commissar's patting his back in a gesture towards his destination before roaring out their commands to their respective units, some to clean up and others to give chase in his current stead.
He went to leave at that moment but found a smaller Grenadier before him, recognising them instantly despite their completely obscured appearance.
Familial bonds one might say.
"Be careful brother" the girl muttered softly, curling against the fondness of his leather gloved digits against the side of her mask, a strange and distorted interpretation of a brother's love for his sister, masks aside.
"I have a duty to the Imperium as much as I do our family Sienna" he said softly.
She chuckled "That's your excuse but you just like playing the hero don't you?" he didn't respond to that but he at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish in reply. Her smaller hands found his black metal chestplate and wiped the blood aside "You can't fool any of us you know" she stopped to smile up at him beneath the skull gas mask she proudly wore as a Grenadier Elite, "At least wear the family symbol proudly as you do it Jaune" she chuckled, hefting her grenade launcher back into place and marching off to the rest of her unit.
The Commander scoffed "I always do" he muttered as he left for duty, fingers idly grasping at the blood-smeared Arcs of gold on his chest.
"I wunna talk humie!" spat the Mek, his reply a burst of plasma taking his leg from his person, as was the merciless nature of the 666th Regiment of the Krieg Death Korps Elite. The Ork screams bellowed out from his lungs with force he had never considered he had, his second refusal to speak finding a cutlass lancing through his back and spearing him to the ground, a second crossing the first in an 'X' formation that allowed him no escape that didn't involve severing his person in two.
Jaune's first impression of the Warboss were his gurgled cries as his men efficiently tortured him with methods so brutal that only his Ork physiology could afford to undertake.
Practiced footfalls eventually placed him before the hulking mass of Ork and machine, kneeling down to meet the skewered Mek eye to mask. "Where did you get that Imperator cannon?" he asked easily.
"Ya fink I'm scared of yer little masks?" he spat, strangled, agonised wheezing barely escaping him as one Grenadier began to saw a chainsword through his armoured carapace, playing ignorant to the point his blade met flesh, brutally carving machinery and meat from the beast of a Greenskin.
The Commander meanwhile never let his eyes leave the Ork's, letting his men's frustration run wild on his new buddy patiently.
"How about now?" he asked after he caught his breath.
"Nev-"
"Melta guns" and like that all wounds were seared closed with focused melta fire, going the extra mile in liquidating a heavy amount of his back into itself and what scrap metal remained.
These men were well-trained, they knew how far to go and where to stop as not to kill an Ork like this one.
Jaune was proud of them.
The commander didn't even ask this time, knowing that he had the Mek where he needed him at this point. The boys and he knew how to run an interrogation, the instant you stop asking is when the panic really kicks in, feeling their only escape vanish.
That's when they start to grasp for it desperately.
"Okay! I'll talk.." he whimpered slightly and they all took notice of it. "Warboss Roklaw 'ad it and we'z made a gun outta it" he admitted "Says 'e got it az'a gift from Warlord frakk'ead..." he shook his head "Now lemme go!" he pleaded, and the nearest grenadier capitalised on their role.
"So unbecoming of a filthy Greenskin" she spat, pulling a powerblade knife out of a short sheath and sticking it into his neck, sawing it through slowly as if it had been serrated just to prolong his grizzly demise.
His body went limp, falling further against the swords that held him in place but she held his head high and proud as they cheered loudly, more following in the distance as every Imperial for miles echoed the cries of victory.
The Commander walked towards the Grenadier holding his head and scoffed lightly as she placed her knife back into her Arc-decorated sheath. "Always have to steal the final glory Ivory?" to be met with a light punch against his shoulder and a snide comment he filtered out as he heard a prominent beeping begin to emanate from the very Earth beneath them.
"What?!"
his eyes searched for anything and everything that could have caused this and he eventually settled on the now glowing green entity having appeared above them, crackling with the energy of what could only be the Warp.
"A Weirdboy?" he heard his sister question but he recognised this Ork in particular, a higher priority than Nale even.
"Yes and no." he looked on gravely as the workshop around them came to life at his will "That is the Weird Surgeon Gurglesnip. May the Emperor have mercy on us." and like that, the machinery and almighty force of the warp tore open the Universe around them and all became lost.
Darkness was all Jaune saw for a moment, finding his vision the moment he heard a girl scream to his left. Understandably so with how he looked in the crusting blood of his foes.
His eyes found the Gothic black and red dress of the small girl with short hair of similar colour scheme before turning to find the exact colour scheme in the man on his opposite side, and it didn't take more than a margin of an instant to realise this man had been threatening this innocent civvie.
time stopped as within the span of a half-second, this bloodied devil in black introduced the criminal to the ground intimately making it more man than carpet.
His deathly visage fell upon the paler than pale little girl as he knelt down with hand extended in a manner so delicate that she simply couldn't see this man as evil despite looking like he'd just stepped out of a horror movie. She took the hand before having realised she'd done as much, silver eyes widening in realisation but silently reveling in the warmth and safety his presence exuded.
"I'm here to help, point me to the bad men" he questioned gently, following her outstretched index finger as she craned her neck to the redheaded man in white surrounded by more of those thugs.
Jaune stood tall and all eyes found the face of Krieg upon them in nary an instant. His voice low and wispy in threat.
"Hello bad men..."
Alright, well that's done; very little to say here in this instance but I'd like to know what you all think, every little detail because I want it all. How I can improve, how you think the story should go, any gaps in the narrative you think should be worked on (though there are cases where I have intentionally made gaps seem as such, but I'd still like you to point out wherever they're seen just in case), any additions you'd like to see or even pairings and the like.
Originally this was gonna be an OC character before but I thought I'd follow the trend of making Jaune into everything under the Sun. Essentially an OC but also shines through with parts of Jaune's character.
You'll bear witness to his awkwardness on occasion as well I promise you.
But yeah, please shout your opinions from the rooftops (Or via PM or Review) and if well received; you'll be seeing more soon I assure you.
Au revoir for now Readers ^^