Gamer’s Tail 02: ‘Not our windmill’ -Ted

July 22, 2016

Dumah’s feet struck the ground with thunder and violence, crushing steel supports, pulverizing rock and reducing plastcrete to dust as his unrelenting mass barreled toward the center of town.  Though sergeant Simiel questioned their actions he could hardly keep from being transfixed by his ancient brother’s stature and zeal.  Nothing could stop this juggernaut of destruction.

Simiel could now see the yellow humanoids below circling the cannon, hunched and bulbous.  He knew what the Captain and Dumah were thinking: Orks of the Evil Sunz clan.  As they got closer Simiel started to doubt, their movements were too fluid for the jerky bobs and sways of Orks.

The cannon twisted back and forth in a disorganized manner, raising and lowering as though experiencing a seizure, dust and dirt shaking from its long sleep.  The plasma coils lit up the dust in a blue haze, Simiel could feel the air tingle, either from his own fear of what comes next or the ions disrupting the calm, his feet became sluggish as his squad surged forward.

“Foowum!” White hot energy lit up the sky melting through several members of squad Kryiotetes.  Gas vapors and debris blotted the area where the squad once stood until the shapes of Brother sergeant Cassiel and brother Darda’ill’s seared armor rushed from within, their own armor still steaming from the energized hydrogen.   The coils lit up again.  This was more than a bad idea.

“Down men!” Simiel shouted as the bobbing monstrosity locked in on squad Jegudiel.  This time there was no pause to sample the air, there was just the animalistic desire for self preservation arcing through the squad as each member jumped for cover, some twisting to use their life support pack as a shield, others diving for rocks.

Time slowed and it seemed like half an hour passed as Simiel and brother Maalik pulled themselves from the soft and pliable molten earth.

Dumah barreled past the squad unfazed by las cannon fire.  What seemed like a lifetime was evidently on seconds.  A heavy “plink” sound caught the recovering sergeant’s gaze.  The lifeless arm of the ancient dreadnought now lay two meters from Simiel, the burnt smell of plastic stabbed at the sergeant’s nose.  In all the decades he had spent with the unstoppable monster, never had he see him slowed, a pang of worry hit Simiel and quickly ran its course, comforted by the sight of the one armed dreadnought disgorging the near impenetrable walls of an Aegis defense line into a handful of Imperial Fists.

“Imperial Fists! Imperial Fists! Halt, brothers, these are not our enemies, these are our brethren!” The desperate Flesh Tearer could barely be heard over the crackle of teleporting terminators and winged death company marines screaming from the sky toward the unfortunate soup of Astartes.

Another barrage of energized hydrogen flattened the incoming terminators sending dust and steam over the battlefield once more.  Simiel and brother Maalik pulled themselves up and begrudgingly walked towards the obscured battle line.  The sounds of bolt gun fire, twisting gears and crunching cremite ceased and was replaced with yelling and clanging metal.

The dust settled enough to make out a line of yellow marines half circling the unfortunate Flesh Tearer Captain. “You dumb mule! Could you not see?  Are you so blind? Who did you think we were?  Your dreadnought destroyed an incredibly valuable plasma obliterator!” Captain Janis of the Imperial Fists chapter bellowed.

“Orks, you appeared to be Orks.” Captain Dioscuri admitted as he stood proudly, stormbolter to his side and thunder hammer held in parade stance.

Simiel could make out the discordant looks crossing the Imperial Fist captain running from dumbfounded by Captain Dioscuri’s rebuttal to barely contained anger.  Captain Janis dropped his stormbolter and struck the Flesh Tearer captain in the temple with an open hand. “Cretin!” He turned and walked away.

Captain Ambriel Dioscuri turned to face his detachment, still composed and proud.
“Ah, you are here.  Pick up these sorry excuses for marines and gather up Dumah, he seems to be broken.  Once you do that we will need to get him back to the techmarines for repairs.  Lets go, chop chop!  The cannon appears to be malfunctioning and is of no use to us.  Good thing it fell apart here instead of when we needed it most.  Shotty construction most likely. Never mind that, let us depart!” The Captain marched off back up the hill leaving marines scattered and bewildered to collect themselves and the dreadnought.

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