Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 178
The Imperial defenders upon the walls stood looking for the first hint of the Orks but little did they realise that the siege had already begun. Greenskins were infamous for brutal savagery and ferocious aggression, but few gave regard to their low cunning. The galaxy was littered with the graves of those who had. While most Orks favoured shooting and stabbing from the front there were those amongst their number who loved sticking the knife in the back, and these deviants had infiltrated ahead of the main attack. As the Storm Heralds stood proudly upon the battlements Ork Kommandos were already at the River Gate.
Along the bottom of the sluggish water they pulled themselves hand over hand, using clouds of slit as cover. Googles peered through the murky twilight as the rubber hoses shoved into their mouths fed air into their lungs from fat tanks upon their backs. A keen-eyed man on the bastion covering the River Gate may have noted a trail of bubbles betraying their presence, but they were distracted by the upcoming battle, and so the Kommandos approached unseen.
The gate was not left undefended, thick Plasteel bars blocked the passage, a portcullis set in place against anyone attempting what the Orks were doing. Coarse hands reached through the water and gripped the bars, struggling to prise them apart, when that failed they brought up Breacha Boyz. A pair of brass tubes were brought from oil-slicked bags and ignited with a twist of a nozzle. Hypergolic chemicals burned underwater, broiling the river as the flames were applied to the bars. Few Imperials would have believed that simple Orks were capable of forging such devices but again the Greenskins cared nothing for the opinions of others.
The bars gave way after a few minutes of intense heat, allowing a narrow gap to be made. The Breachas kept working as the first Kommandos slipped through, widening the gap to allow more to pour through. Streams of Kommandos passed right under the feet of the Guardsmen assigned to the River Gate, a score, two-score, four, six, ten, twenty, till four hundred Kommandos had entered the city unchallenged. Knives were drawn and hoses fell from lips as they surfaced, looking for an access route. The tide was out and the river was low, backsurge ebbing in a constant cycle of high and low. The Kommandos quickly spied an unguarded docking pier, standing high over the water, its underside cast into darkness. Perfect for them to exit the river and spill into the city.
Boots found purchase on the rapidly rising bank and the Kommandos slinked out of the water. Murky water streaming from bulging muscles as they advanced, casting off breathing tanks to drop unheeded in their wake. They would not need them. The Kommandos would explode into the city like a frag grenade going off, spreading panic and confusion at the very moment the Orkamemnon attacked. The stupid hoomies would be shocked, cast into bedlam and unable to respond. The leading Ork was looking forward to it, he gripped his knife tight as a vicious grin split his face, eager to get to the killing. He however was surprised when Vitcos stepped out from the shadow of the pier and slashed his throat open with the edge of a Chakram.
"The careless Ambull stumbles headlong into a pit of stakes!" he roared. Instantly the Smoke Jaguars surged from their hiding places, bolters already firing. From the shadow of pier supports, exploding from crates piled along the banks and from the flatbeds of idle Cargo-8's they appeared, weapons in hand and ready to stain the river red with blood. The Smoke Jaguars may abhor defensive warfare, but ambush tactics were a revered art and they knew the Ork mindset all too well.
A thunderous roar of four Heavy Bolters revealed Barking Dog Prowl, sweeping the waters with massive reactives. Specialised in the doctrines of Devastator they proved their name aptly chosen with the booming of their guns. Deathmaker Prowl reaped a fearful tally with lesser weapons, bolters exploding surfacing heads with pinpoint shots. Red Whirlwind was not to be outdone, pressing to the edge of the water to greet the foe at point-blank range. Steel Helms Prowl held the left flank with unbreakable courage and Autumnal Kings made the right flank a slaughterhouse where no Ork could dare set foot. Doans on high rooftops picked off lone foes with deadly accurate Sniper rifles and Aapo the Eldest fired his harpoon like a man fishing, dragging ruptured Ork corpses out of the water with each shot.
A hundred Orks died before they knew what was happening, blasted cadavers left to float downstream to the sea, but they were not dismayed. Faced with a wall of firepower they reacted the only way they knew how, charging headlong into the fray, waving Choppas high and pulling Shoota pistols from oil-slicked bags. Dozens more died in the crossfire but those who reached the pier quickly pulled themselves up, swarming onto the decking heedless of casualties. They were met by Hounds Sinister Prowl, the Terminators dicing any foe who dared come at them with twin claws. Tachna stood with them, the Headsman's wroth fierce and keen.
Vitcos however had more immediate concerns. Blazing Shadow Prowl held the underside of the pier, and many Kommandos were spilling into the darkness, seeking to bypass the crossfire and come at the Smoke Jaguars from below. Vitcos met them with his Chakrams, slicing at faces and lopping off hands with the humming circlets. A Kommando barrelled at him with a rusty knife, boots splashing water with every tread. The First swayed back, avoiding the wild swing of a blade, before surging forward and slashing his Chakram's crosswise, opening up the Ork's chest with a red 'X'. The Kommando staggered but with remarkable constitution gathered strength for a final strike. Vitcos however scissored his hands back and removed both arms, leaving his foe to collapse in a gory pool of entrails.
No time to gloat, for more Kommandos were spilling into the darkness. He met them with fast strikes, lashing out left and right to rip and tear. He did not plant his feet and make a defiant stand but moved constantly, darting around posts to come at the foe from unexpected directions. Orks chased him but were slowed by the water dragging at their heels, whereas power armour assist made light work of the liquid shackle. Sun and shade were his allies, exploiting the simplicity of the Ork eye, knowing the Greenskins struggled to adapt to shifting illuminance with any great speed. Vitcos appeared from the shadows to thrust a Chakram into a face, penetrating the braincase, then whipped his arm out and removed half the head. Another foe he struck from behind, slicing the spinal cord while they were scouring the darkness. A third he took in the gut, opening the belly to allow intestines to pollute the waters with ropey innards. He was everywhere and nowhere, reaping lives with adroit skill, and he was not alone.
The thunder of bolters beyond the pier, the stamping and bellowing above, none of it drowned out his Kinsmen's frenzy. Blazing Shadow Prowl met the Kommandos with speed and fury, a tornado of murder sweeping through their number with fangs and claws red. Sechura grabbed an Ork from behind and stabbed his Obsidian Blade into the spine, holding the Greenskin upright as lifeblood cascaded over his greaves. Ilquitio met a pair of foes head to head, chancing their savagery to land the hunt-kill. His Daga blades plunged into a chest and the secondary tines burst outwards, blowing flesh everywhere. His knives ripped the wounds wide open as he heaved backwards, decimating the chest cavity as surely as a pair of bolter rounds. The other Kommando came at him with machete in hand but Ilquitio pivoted and blocked. The rusty cleaver scraped down the length of his blade, then the tines snapped shut, trapping the Ork's weapon. The foe gawped in confusion as it tried to jerk back only to find its arm locked solid. Ilquitio seized that moment to plunge his other Daga into an eye-socket and end its life.
"The river waters drown in vitae!" Sechura yelled as he kicked an Ork in the back of the knee and grabbed its neck to plunge the head under the surface.
"The thirst of my blades is quenched!" Ilquitio laughed in agreement.
"Let not your bloodlust be satiated!" Vitcos snarled, "A glutton you must be this day!"
Ilquitio ripped out another throat as he proclaimed, "Fear not, my hunger knows no bounds!"
"The Orruk's death throes are a feast of delights," Secure agreed as he held the Kommando's head underwater till its struggles grew limp and feeble.
Vitcos spied the danger before his Kinsman did. Sechura was focused on his kill so intently he failed to note another Greenskin appearing from the darkness behind. Vitcos' arm was in motion before conscious thought formed. His Chakram flew, spinning through the air as the arrow sprung from the bow. The weapon brushed the Kommando's skull and sliced clean through, trepanning the Xenos ear to ear and the brain within. The beast collapsed into the water as the Chakram struck a post and buried itself deep.
Vitcos was down to one weapon and moved to retrieve his blade, but before he could a Kommando jumped from nowhere, tackling him about the waist. The First's vertebrae were wrenched painfully as he was carried along, then shaken to the core as he was rammed into a beam. His elbow came down upon the Ork's shoulder, rocking it hard but the dense creature did not collapse. A knife flashed, scraping Vitcos belly armour and leaving a deep groove. Vitcos was pinned, unable to bring his Chakram to bear and the Ork was about to gut him.
Bereft of choice Vitcos extended his arm then, snaked his elbow about the neck. The Ork jerked as his arm locked across its throat in a tight headlock, trying to break free but Vitcos' grip was a vice. Fists pummelled his flank but the First ground his boots into the silt and heaved about, swinging the Greenskin's skull into the wooden beam. The crack of bone meeting wood rang loud but the Kommando was not dazed. It roared in hatred as it thrashed wildly, trying to escape the noose of the Smoke Jaguar's arm. Vitcos gritted his teeth and swung again, ramming the skull into the post, again hard enough to turn a man's head into jelly. A fourth time, putting all his strength into the blow. The Ork's skull did not give out, but the wooden beam did, the hard surface splintering as the head drove deep. The Greenskin was trapped as in a pillory, unable to pull its head free as its mouth filled with splinters. Vitcos swiftly put his remaining Chakram to the nape of the neck then swept downwards, opening the spinal cord all the way to the pelvis, causing the Kommando to slump, head still stuck inside the post.
The First whipped about to find another foe but the death-dealing was done. The Kommandos had been cut apart by vicious crossfires and none remained to reach the underside of the pier. The river was thick with corpses, waters made treacle by filthy blood and bloated with entrails. Bobbing as logs in the stream bodies floated down to the sea, a watery grave as food for fishes awaited, a fit end for such unworthy creatures. Alarums rang in the city above and screaming mortals pointed from the far bank but the Smoke Jaguar's killing was done. The Kommandos had been well ambushed and paid the price for their recklessness.
Vitcos stomped over to retrieve his lost Chakram as he barked, "The expanse of your back would invite an Icehawk to build a nest!"
Sechura was not admonished, "The glory of the hunt-kill consumed me, my cup overfloweth!"
"Heed the rumble of the ground, for it foretells the herd's stampede!"
"The First worries like a harridan plucking at a hanging corpse!"
"Your corpse will it be should you not grow eyes in the back of your head!" Vitcos rebuked.
"Hark, thunder echoes from the mountaintops!" Ilquitio called. Vitcos paused as he heard the distant booms of Macrocannons firing. The wall guns had engaged, sending their first shots far. On the horizon the vast hordes of Orkamemnon would be tasting the fury of Imperial ordnance, may they find the flavour most displeasing. Vitcos lifted his helm to the city walls and knew the battle was truly enjoined. The Smoke Jaguars had claimed the laurels of first blood, he could only trust the Storm Heralds would troth to regain their pride through the sheer numbers of Greenskins they slew.