Chapter III: If This Isn't Hell...
The news of the collapse in the breach severed our morale. But we knew that we must push towards our territory if there is to be any hope to survive.
"Over there! In the forest!" a mob of Orks was seen gaining on our position.
"Give 'em Hell!" I shouted as we all laid waste to the advancing Orks. Of the large mass or green and now red corpses, 3 were still living in agony. I decided to push towards the beach in hopes of reaching it before it breaks down.
"Enemy Tank at the Hill!" screamed one of the Marines. The tank, which was at one time a Leman Russ, lit up the night with one ferocious blast in our direction.
"INCOMING!" yelled a man as the blast hit the dirt. No one was wounded, but we were all shell-shocked. We had no sufficient firepower to destroy the tank and sprinted our way behind cover to escape the volleys of death it reigned.
"Sanctuary is just three miles north. Move out now!" All of my men were on their feet and running. "We can out run it," I said as I tried to reassure my Marines, "Just keep pushing forward!"
We encountered two Orks along the path. But before I could make a reaction, one of my snipers nailed them both down.
"Four more at six o'clock!" Those bastards were trying to get us from behind, but the marines in the power armor made short work of them with their holy Bolters. For now we were just trying to press forward toward the goal, but with all of these distractions, I was almost sure we weren't to make it.
"Three Orks at four!"
"Five at nine!"
"I got three up ahead"
"Two more at our rear" It was just a hell dealing with it all. Every one of my men was shooting. Every Ork was screaming. Every blast was nearing. It was all what I lived for.
"I'm hit!" A piece of shrapnel had become embedded in the scout's thigh.
"Man down!" The tactical unit's medic was immediately treating the shrapnel wound.
"He's okay!" By now, all visible Orks were lying on the ground.
"That damn tank is still on our ass! How do we shake it?"
"We don't shake it... We ambush it! Into those trees!" The tactical sergeant planned to assault the tank with Melta-Bombs and Krak Grenades. "Wait for my order." Whispered the sergeant over the comm. The tank was seen trudging slowly across the path, as we waited for the signal. "Turik, you get the green on top. Me, James, and Skirk will move in and plant the bombs." The heavily armored men waited.
"Now!" ordered the sergeant, as the tank just passed slowly. With one distinct crack, one of my men pelted down the gunner on top. The marines sprinted in, planted the bombs, and moved out. Within ten seconds, the tank was nothing more than a smoldering heap of metal.
With that task out of our way, we trudged along the predetermined path to the ever failing breach.
The news of the collapse in the breach severed our morale. But we knew that we must push towards our territory if there is to be any hope to survive.
"Over there! In the forest!" a mob of Orks was seen gaining on our position.
"Give 'em Hell!" I shouted as we all laid waste to the advancing Orks. Of the large mass or green and now red corpses, 3 were still living in agony. I decided to push towards the beach in hopes of reaching it before it breaks down.
"Enemy Tank at the Hill!" screamed one of the Marines. The tank, which was at one time a Leman Russ, lit up the night with one ferocious blast in our direction.
"INCOMING!" yelled a man as the blast hit the dirt. No one was wounded, but we were all shell-shocked. We had no sufficient firepower to destroy the tank and sprinted our way behind cover to escape the volleys of death it reigned.
"Sanctuary is just three miles north. Move out now!" All of my men were on their feet and running. "We can out run it," I said as I tried to reassure my Marines, "Just keep pushing forward!"
We encountered two Orks along the path. But before I could make a reaction, one of my snipers nailed them both down.
"Four more at six o'clock!" Those bastards were trying to get us from behind, but the marines in the power armor made short work of them with their holy Bolters. For now we were just trying to press forward toward the goal, but with all of these distractions, I was almost sure we weren't to make it.
"Three Orks at four!"
"Five at nine!"
"I got three up ahead"
"Two more at our rear" It was just a hell dealing with it all. Every one of my men was shooting. Every Ork was screaming. Every blast was nearing. It was all what I lived for.
"I'm hit!" A piece of shrapnel had become embedded in the scout's thigh.
"Man down!" The tactical unit's medic was immediately treating the shrapnel wound.
"He's okay!" By now, all visible Orks were lying on the ground.
"That damn tank is still on our ass! How do we shake it?"
"We don't shake it... We ambush it! Into those trees!" The tactical sergeant planned to assault the tank with Melta-Bombs and Krak Grenades. "Wait for my order." Whispered the sergeant over the comm. The tank was seen trudging slowly across the path, as we waited for the signal. "Turik, you get the green on top. Me, James, and Skirk will move in and plant the bombs." The heavily armored men waited.
"Now!" ordered the sergeant, as the tank just passed slowly. With one distinct crack, one of my men pelted down the gunner on top. The marines sprinted in, planted the bombs, and moved out. Within ten seconds, the tank was nothing more than a smoldering heap of metal.
With that task out of our way, we trudged along the predetermined path to the ever failing breach.