Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-32600226-20181231192754/@comment-27830834-20190313191839

Kaylock, noticing the temporary abandonment of the stubber, immediately made his way over to the now-unmanned autogun as quietly as possible. Clambering up the ladder, he pried a single shell from the belt-feed, used his knife to pry open the bullet and let the cordite within fall to the ground, where it was quickly buried in the snowfall. Chuckling to himself, he jammed the pieces of the tampered shell back together and re-inserted it back into the ammo belt as close to the firing aperture as possible, taking a quick moment to look around to make sure he hadn't been observed before sliding back down the ladder and burying himself in the nearest snowdrift.

If by chance things did go to hell, that heavy stubber would jam the moment anyone pulled the trigger. Normally he'd prefer for more complete sabotage but that was risky given their predicament, and besides, it was bad luck to pry apart kit without observing the proper rituals first. The jam would maybe buy them a few seconds, but a few seconds was all he and the Little Sisters needed to take care of any enterprising gunners...