To The Last Man [RP Thread]

A claxon sounded somewhere inside the bunker, as far as Commissar Falkirk was concerned it was just another small assault force from the Orks outside. He sighed, taking a long sip from his small supply of cognac and setting the heavy drink on a steel table in front of him. Outside, the roaring of gunfire erupted, deafened slightly by the steel encompassing him within the defensive structure. A light patter of footstep sounded outside followed by brisk knocking, "Come in." He said tiredly, he hadn't slept much within the last few days and it was starting to take its toll.

The man who walked in was no man at all, but a boy, a soldier, So young... He thought, briefly pondering how old the boy might be before he spoke up professionally,

"Sir," He saluted formally, Falkirk waved the gesture away, "The Orks are attacking the outer trenches, small shock teams, must be around three score of them."

A small attack, no doubt just another grind on the defenses.

"I'm aware that a Captain Rallbi-"

"He's dead, Sir." The boy said rather toneless, his face going a white pale. Falkirk inhaled deeply, his mind processing what had just been confronted to him. Captain James Rallbie had been a close friend of his, and to think that he too was dead? He slowly got up, stretched and nodded to the boy,

"Thank you," He indicated to the bottle on the table, "Sit and relax, drink what you may." The boy seemed hesitant at first but saluted and sat upon the cushioned chair the Commissar had previously occupied.

The sound of battle was dying off as the Orks were apparently being driven back. He reached for his long trenchcoat and Commissar's cap that were hanging on a banister just to the side of the table. He set the cap on straight and adjusted the coat until it was comfortable. With a nod to the boy he opened the thick steel door and stepped into the bunkers hallway. Eager juniour officers were racing about on business on their own, reporting causalities, supply listings, maps, transmissions, a whole slew of things was going on in the command bunker. Guards stood rigidly at attention at various checkpoints and saluted as he walked by.

"Ah, Commissar Falkirk." A voice said behind him. He turned now to face a stern looking man in a prim Krieg officer's dress uniform.

"Lieutenant Fernz, I was not expecting you to be down here, I thought you were posted on active duty up top?"

"No Commissar," A thin smile played across the mans face, "There was a last minute... change. I was set to HQ duty, recording maps and such." With each change of sentence his eyes grew narrower and narrower, Falkirk seemed sketched yet held his tongue,

"What is it you wanted?" He was urgent to get up top and see how things were for himself, the Lieutenant nodded getting to business.

"Sir, as you are aware Captain Rallbie is dead." He flinched inwardly at the comment but nodded to the Liuetenant, "Has a replacement been found yet?"

Falkirk cursed the man, he wasn't saddened by the mans death but merely wanted a damned promotion, he smiled, "I have not, the news has only reached my ears, a replacement... well, I shall have to see to that now shall I?" The game of military politics was an interesting one to play, and Falkirk had learned the trick of the trade with many long hard years of service. The Lieutenant seemed fairly disappointed but also returned a smile, albeit a faint one and saluted carrying on with his business.

Commissar Falkirk reached the exit tunnel of the underground bunker, streams of Guards were checking tags, passes, and other means of idenifcation with those who were leaving and entering the HQ. They moved aside to allow the Commissar to pass as he exited the exposed opened hatchway of the Command Bunker.

Outside the air was cruel and hard, though not altogether cold, it had the chill of death on it - far more cooler than any hard winter. Medical tents, forward operation posts, and other similar faciliates were set up at stragetic points all throughout the inner sanctum of the fortress, The Colosseum. Ah, The Colosseum, an ingenious work of Kriegsmen who had such knowledge in siege warfare.

The entire base was built on hilltop, with a vast network of tunnels connecting below for storage of weapons and supplies. The Command bunker was located in the centre of the complex, a block of dirty steel in the brown wasteland. A fierce battlement had been strewn together along the outside of the hill, with various fire steps to be used. Dug in mortar pits and artillery batteries had been constructed as well, the various crews could be seen cleaning and arming weapons, always at the ready for an Ork attack. Outside the battlements a fierce set up of trenches had been dug in, that was where the bloodiest of the fighting was taking place, out in the cruel barren wasteland of 'Planet V'.

He cursed the campaign, Falkirk was beginning to realise him and his men had no purpose other than to die out here in this damned wasteland, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and set off into the encampment. Dirty and ashenfaced soldiers looked up to him, nodding and saluting. The men of Krieg respected him for his leadership abilities, feared him for his odd manner, and loved his stern outward look at life. He had never once raised his pistol to a man who did not truly deserve it, and the men respected that in him.

A wind was blowing that day, causing strands of loose sand and dirt to rise into the air, smudging across his face. His men were covered in the stuff and he made a mental note to try and provide more ample cleaning utilities, otherwise they shall all die of disease rather than stand against the greenskins. His face then turned to a scowl.

He hated these vile Orks who's only mission in life was to kill and maim. He was tired of fighting but knew he was destined for an eternity of it with such barbaric monsters like these foul greenskins. He hated them with a strong passion, they had ruined his life and he'd be sure as hell to make them pay.

"Commissar?" A trooper had been watching him, he had been talking to himself again out loud.

"Nothing soldier, nothing. Where is the remainder of Rallbie's men?" The soldier looked sadly at the ground, Captain Rallbie had been a favourite amongst the troops and he pointed over to a beaten batch of troops that were huddled around a dirty fire. The Commissar nodded his thanks to the young man and set off in the direction of the fire, he looked towards the skies, Emperor damn this, but at least give him strength to live another day.

Kagmar sighed in relief they had driven back the greenskins for now sadly he had lost a good man, Private Persus.
He then started to go back to base when he saw in the distance a huge line of ork battlewagons he started running to base so that he could alert Commisar Falkirk

Horus pulled his sword out of a dead ork and stabbed it into the ground to clean from the blood. "Triden, you got fire?" he asked the soldier standing next to him, pulling out a cigarette. Puffing out the smoke, he looked around the battlefield. "Look at that savage. Is she drinking the blood of these damn creatures?" Horus followed the gaze of one of his soldiers to a woman leaning over one of those wretched orks. "You're right soldier, she is. Typical cultist." He sighed, looking into another direction. "Look at that. There's Kagmar running like he's seen a ghost. Seems like the action isn't quite over yet." he said pointing towards a figure racing over the bodies of the fallen.

Sandara stood up, grinning. She looked around, searching for more filth to drink dry and spotted one of those soldiers running towards their lines. It seemed like there was more more blood to be spilled and drunk in the name of the emperor. Good she thought to herself licking her lips. She was still thirsty.

Falkirk's gaunt face shone out in the grimey air, ahead of him he saw his men celebrating their victory against the Orks. Suddenly, he saw a soldier running towards him, waving his arms and pointing towards something in the distance. He turned his gaze, following the finger of the trooper and saw a slew of Ork battlewagons accompanied by infantry support roaring towards their lines. Instantly, he reached for his bolt pistol concealed underneath his cloak and drew his chainsword, pressing a rune that activated it, whirring in the afternoon breeze.

"To arms men of Krieg, to arms!" He roared out, raising his chainsword into the air. Death Korps soldiers ran towards the defensive positions, heavy bolters from set positions spat out death into the oncoming green skin offensive. A few missile launcher crews set up firing positions and loaded up their weapons preparing to fire into the battle wagons when they got within range.

He nodded to the soldier who smirked back at him, he called over his shoulder to a man who was smoking a cigarette, "You there, get your men up here to the line!" He snapped into action after giving his order, racing up towards the pickett defense. Already, Krieg soldiers in the forward trenches were opening fire onto the Orks, who were being mowed down by carefully placed shots of lasrifles. The Battlewagons opened up as well, strange Orkish weaponary poked off all around the truck, the heavy and stranged armour behemouths with dancing and firey greenskins shooting everything they had at the Krieg lines.

Falkirk ducked low behind a paraphet, firing over the lip with his bolt pistol and barking out orders to his men who raced into action. A nearby section of the wall exploded as one of the Ork missiles cracked against the battlement, bodies flew in all directions. Limbs and blood spewed against the ground and Falkirk's face tensed, blood and death were to be expected in each campaign and yet it always seemed to affect him in a strange way when he saw it. A mans life was gone, everything he was or worked for now erased in the blink of an eye, his spark of defiance blinked out of the universe for all eternity...

Another explosion rocked the battlements, a soldier had pushed Falkirk to the ground in order to protect him from the shrapnel. He pushed the troopers body off of him and called out, "Medic! I need a medic!" The trooper that had saved his life was bleeding horribly from his spinal column, groaning in agony. He smiled broadly, "You are one brave idiot." The soldier merely chuckled.

He stood up now, getting a better assesment of the carnage, the Orks had reached the trenches, and fierce inferno's of close quarter combat was ensuing. "Launchers, focus fire on the battlewagons, mortar teams, hit just behind the trench lines and pick off any stragglers, bolter teams pin down the bastards that are closing in!" The troops responded, firing and running about their business.

The guardsmen were pelting the Ork troops with everything they had, yet the greenskins just kept on coming, hordes of them roaring and slithering forward creating a mockery of life. Falkirk hated them, and picked off shots individually, he wasn't precisely sure if he was getting any kills, but it was that thought that counted. In the corner of his eye he saw distant movement, and focused, bringing up his field glasses to get a more clear view. The Orks seemed to be setting up a large cannon behind a rocky outcropping just outside of the line of fire from the main Krieg infantry line, whatever it was, it was going to cause a lot of trouble for the Imperial defenders. He swore, the Orks always seemed to be coming up with new means of death and destruction.

"I need a squad of volunteers, now! The greenskins are setting something up and we need to stop them from finishing it, who's coming with me?" He called out to the men, raising his chainsword in the air. Already the Ork assault would break through the trench lines, but the men of Krieg would stand firm, they had now for months - it was that damned cannon that could win it for those bastards, and Commissar Falkirk wasn't about to let that happen.

With whirling blades Sandara leaped into a group of orks, oblivious to the heavy bolter fire raining into her surroundings. Greenskin blood was everywhere. To make it short Sandara was enjoying herself.

Firing a round from his Hellpistol Horus charged into the fray, slicing greenskins apart while his men gave him fire support with their Hellguns. Falling back to his men, he sheathed his sword and used his now free hand to inform Falkirk that he would join his little squad if Falkirk could make it to his position which was now nearly overrun. " Let's show 'em what we're made of boys!!!" with that Horus drew his sword once more to batter the greenskins with it.

Kagmar put on his gas mask, drew his laspistol and fired two shots, killing two battlewagon gunners. Hearing a grunt behind him he turned around only to have his pistol torn out of his hand by a loathsome Ork.

Drawing his power sword he charged at the Ork and slashed at it with his power sword. As the Ork fell, blood gushig out of its wound a woman rushed over clearly enjoying herself and started slashing at the Ork with two blades, Kagmar recognised her as a Death Cult assasin.
Sickened Kagmar turned away so he could kill more Orks.

(Please ask me first before using my chars)

Sandara laughed hysterically as she slashed the ork apart: "Die filth!" She then turned towards the rest of the mob still laughing. As the first ork stormed forward she leaped onto him and bit his neck, slurping the greenskins blood greedily. Sandara then tore free from the gurgling ork, bits of flesh still between her teeth.

Horus spat the cigarette out his mouth. "No use in waiting for that coward boys" he said motioning towards the battle raging a bit farther of "Seems like that weekling Kagmar needs some support. With that he and his squad began moving over the dead greenskins towards the fray, nodding short salutes to the heavy bolter crew who had helped them defeat the foul creatures so quickly.

Kagmar saw horus and his men coming towards and cursed, they were probably laughing at him.
"Stupid bastards I'll show them what a man of Krieg is made of." he muttered resentfully. People from other worlds generally distrusted him as he was created usin the vitae womb technique.
with a resentful glance at Horus he rallied some fleeing men and charged at the Orks.

Sandara spotted the big ork as it emerged from a battle wagon. "Yeeeeesssssss at last a worthy enemy. I shall drink you dry in the name of the emperor." Forgetting about the rest of the mob she walked towards the greenskin, adrenalin flowing through her veins she slashed apart all in her way, nearly decapitating Kagmar.

Horus couldn't help laughing as he saw how the bewildered Kagmar dodged out of the way of the assassin. "Alright men concentrate fire on all filth that attacks the assassin, she may be disgusting but it could be that she eliminates that big greenskin over there. It's carrying some kind of heavy bolter and I don't want to see what damage it does when fired. If we fire at it we may tempt it to use that thing but the assassin may be able to bring the filth down in close combat." With that he charged into battle while his men shot every ork even near Sandara.

Kagmar and a small band of men charged at the greenskins and slew many of them with many of their own number falling until only three remained. Then Kagmar saw it, a huge cannon big enough to destroy the Colloseum if it was able to fire.
"DESTROY THE CANNON!!" Shouted Kagmar and his men

Sandara had engaged the enormous ork and the two of them were battling it out in close combat.

Horus was in the middle of the battle right beside Kagmar "Hey Kagmar you and your men destroy the cannon while me and my squad keep your back covered, okay?"

Falkirk nodded in admiration to his men as they repelled the brunt attack from the Greenskins. A few soldiers had joined us assault group and he led them around the main battle line to come around the flank to where the cannon was being set up.

It was set inbetween two narrow cliff edges, a band of Orks were arguing in their brutish language as to who would get to fire it. Covered by the loud roaring of battle, the Imperial troops descended upon the Orks like a plague. "For the Imperium!" Falkirk roared out, raising his chainsword high into the air and firing into an Orks skull point blank with his bolt pistol, it imploded and then exploded as the bullet entered and exited the cranium. Blood and brain spewed all over Falkirk but he ignored it and continued on with the slaughter. His assault team fired trained las shots at the Orks who fell in droves trying to escape or charge them, finally, the last Ork fell, Falkirk rammed his chainsword deep into the beasts spinal column, felt bone and flesh twist and tear, then ripped the blade outward in an arc, slicing its back open. He grimaced, Orks truly disgusted him.

His team secured the cannon, forming a small defensive perimeter but they had no real reason to, the Orks were to drawn to the main battle ensuing by the fortress to deal with this small brigand band. "What is it?" One of the troopers asked curiously, Falkirk pondered. It seemed to be an odd sort of weapon, the metals were crudely strewn together as the Orks did, but there was something foreign about it, something...

Chaos. The word entered and exited his mind in an instant and his stomach turned with the thought. He couldn't prove the work of Chaos had anything to do with this piece of weaponry, but there was something definatley foreign to it.

"Let's wheel this back lads." He nodded to his troops who slung their lasrifles and proceeded to attempt to push it. It wouldn't budge, it was to heavy, they'd need a crane of some sort in order to move it. Falkirk cursed his ill fortune, loading a fresh clip into his bolt pistol he sighed, "We'll have to deal with the greenskins first and then deal with this."

"Aye, sir, why don't we use it against them?" An interesting suggestion from a recruit, he nodded.

"I don't see why not, however, does anyone have any exp-"

"It doesn't look difficult, much like a cannon we're familiar with," The excited trooper spoke up, his face was fat and round, he was beaming from ear to ear, "See? The ammo is lifted into this rear compartment, this bolt here is pushed back and then it seems this trigger here is pulled and the gun fires." As he spoke he indicated the various objects on the gun, Falkirk rubbed his chin in thought. It was a xenos weapon, his code went against using such things, but they needed to reduce casaulities as much as possible...

"Use it, get a team and use it." The trooper saluted and began giving out orders to the men.

"Lift that shell and set it in, like that, good, good, okay now you two pull back the reciever... that's it. Careful! This thing might blow up in our hands if we do it wrong, okay, now, I think you just pull this trigger here like th-" A massive boom resounded off the cliff edges to their left and right, Falkirk's hands instinctively reached to protect his ears. In all his years of combat he had never heard such a loud shot before, damned greenskins. The bullet smashed into the rear of the Ork lines and did nothing,

"A dud..." One of the soldiers spoke up, his voice full of disappointment. Falkirk had expected nothing less from a xenos gun, and shook his head in respite. As if on cue however, something happened. A bright flash shot off into the air from the area the shell had impacted, soaring and then exploding in mid-air. The ground below quaked and then suddenly and without warning burst into an inferno of fire. The Orks who were unlucky enough to be trapped in the area of effect burned alive, their skin literally melting from their bones. A few of the battlewagons merely exploded or melted along with the dying Orks.

Falkirk and his squad looked on in grim silence, the devastion that was occuring was to much to bear and one of the soldiers gasped. The Commissar nodded, "Such is the way with Orks." Was all he had to say, the rest nodded.

The Ork offensive broke as they realised what had just happened, they fought with less daemonar and the ferocious charge led by Horus and his men had completely broken any major forward thrust the greenskins had left. Krieg infantrymen opened fire from the fortress battlements, the greenskins however were fighting to the last. Falkirk led his men from the flank and joined in the carnage, raising his bolt pistol he landed a few shots into the backs of some greenskins, his men doing the same with lasrifles. He came about with his chainsword as one of the Orks turned to fight him, slicing horizontally he caught the beast in the lower abdomen, it growled and reached out to grab him but Falkirk was quick and aimed his pistol at the Ork, squeezing the trigger and watching in satisfaction as the greenskins head exploded in a fountain of gore.

It didn't take long before the last of the greenskins fell, there battlewagons flaming wrecks out in the dirty badlands. The Commissar nodded as his men cheered in victory, his smile was empty but he smiled nonetheless. He had no feeling for war anymore, especially joyful ones.

"Sergeant," He turned to a nearby Krieg trooper who nodded, "Get a team and a truck and pick up a gun that we found that the greenskins planned to use for further examination." The trooper seemed confused but Falkirk grinned, "You'll understand soon enough, hop to it." With a brief 'Yes, Sir!' the Sergeant ran off barking out orders. Falkirk was tired, he hadn't slept at all these past few days, unending Ork offensives saw to that. He was running on caffeine and energy pills and it was taking its toll, he knew he'd need sleep soon but couldn't find the time. His weary face and body shook as he entered the main fortress walls, the men were celebrating but Falkirk knew it was only a minor victory, the Orks would come again, and again, and again...

He sighed, and reached for a pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket, realising they were not there he cursed under his breath. In the distance he heard the low rumbling of an Imperial truck setting off towards the cliffs to pick up the Ork weapon, he stretched, informing the Minostorum priests would be no easy matter and he'd be lucky if they even allowed him into their sanctuary at all, the introverted bastards. He chuckled to himself, setting off in the direction of the Minostorum supply checkpoint, sheathing his chainsword in a black leather carrier at his side and placing the bolt piston in its own holster, concealed underneath his dark grey coat.

Horus managed to catch up with Falkirk, who was heading towards the Minostorum supply checkpoint. "What is going on in your head? Why have you ordered to bring the weapon into our base? Was it at least checked for bombs?"

Sandara lay in one of the many trenches looking up to the clouds. She was bored. Nothing to drink and nothing to slay. In her opinion, this was the worst part of war: waiting for the enemy to attack again. Slowly she got up and fell down again, sighing, she might as well get some sleep.

At the sound of the mans voice, Falkirk turned to face an angry looking Krieg soldier. "Ah, Sergeant Horus." He had learned the mans name well throughout this three month conflict, he was constantly at his throat about just any command or order that he gave. He knew the man disliked him but he had done his best to get along with him, his commanding skills, bravery, and combat prowess were much respected amongst the ranks and he knew the men respected him. "No need to worry," He nodded as the Imperial truck that contained the Ork weapon was driven towards the checkpoint, "We got in close enough to it, had our examination, and even fired the bloody thing." He watched solemnly as a gentle breeze flew across his face. The strange red sun was setting over the planet and four moons were rising over the horizon. It was a beautiful spectacle even in such a crude and horrific location, Falkirk couldn't help by marvel at the beauty of nature.

"Sergeant Horus," He now returned his attention to the disgruntled trooper, "What is the casaulty report amongst the men? Is a defense properly organised, the men back in line? It's not uncommon for the Orks to attack in waves you know." He knew that by slyly commenting like this he could get the Sergeant back into a position of command rather than him questioning his every move, he had never shot a man of his own flesh and blood who didn't deserve nor would he ever. He could put up with the Sergeant, but if he got out of hand...

Kagmar smiled, it seemed that Commisar Falkirk also disliked Horus.
Still smiling he went back to base.

As Kagmar went back to his quarters he noticed a man backing a soldier he knew Private Firl Cald back into a corner, he listened in.
"You listen here Cald! You are going to make sure that I am given Rallbies position do you understand."
"Yes Leitenant Fernz, sir" Stuttered Cald.
"In whatever way possible Cald do you understand?"Growled Fernz
"Perfecly Sir" Cald Muttered.
"Good, I think Leitenant Blin Might have a little accident if you catch my meaning." Laughing Fernz walked off.
Kagmars eyes narrowed, he remembered Fernz now, several men he knew seemed to have heavier pockets than other men.
He really should alert Falkirk about this first but he hated men who worked their way up the ranks by having people killed.
His lip curling in distaste Kagmar set off after Fernz.

Kagmar was going after Fernz. He was blinded by hatred for the man but as he neared him reason asserted itself if he reported Fernz's nature to the Commisar he could get promoted. He then started walking to the Commisars quarters

Falkirk entered the command bunker, the outside guards saluting briskly and allowing him to pass. Traversing the narrow hallways he was oblivious to the men moving to and fro their various duties, he pushed his way past crowds of men who were celebrating the recent victory.

His quarters were dark, the lights had all been turned off when he left them previously this morning. He yawned loudly taking his cap and cloak off, hanging them by the door. He unbuttoned his tunic and got comfortable in an armchair bringing up a few data slates of supplies, troop numbers, and other similar figures. Chewing on his thumb he curiously pondered how the research was going with the Ork cannon and how long it would take for results to get back.

He sighed, for three months bloody conflict had ensued on this damned planet, the Imperial fleet was deliberately ignoring them, trapped, like pigs in a pen. But he could not tell the men this for morale was drop to new lows, instead, each day he assured the men that the Imperium had not forgotten them and would one day soon take them off this rock. As he gazed at the dataslates, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye, a photograph. Slowly, he stood up and walked towards the coffee table in which it lay, he lifted it up sighing. His one true love who was now millions of light years away, who had no feeling for him anymore.

He stood in solemn silence, memories fading and passing through his troubled mind.

Kagmar Knocked on the door of the Commisars Quarters.
"Come in." said the Commisar in a weary voice.
"Commisar Falkik, I have news about Leitenant Fernz"

Horus smiled. It seemed that this Falkirk had some guts after all. With this thought in his head he prepared to make a casualty report. That was when he spotted the soldier Cald, a weakling that bowed to anyone stronger than himself. What was he doing in this part of the camp? As Horus came closer he saw what was happening: Cald was cutting some ropes which held some barrels in place. But some soldier was standing beneath them! Pulling out his hellpistol Horus yelled: Get down there scum and don't think you can outwit me!"

Sandara raised her head sleepily. Something was going on in camp and she wanted to know what that was.