Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20170510201147/@comment-1734134-20170610225241

The Skitarii fall into place with machine precision, one of them replying to you, “Lord Strasse would’ve made clear any sort of support – this is not of our design,” it’s voice trails into an Orion-like tone with those words. The rebels, dazed and confused, struggle to stop you from regrouping. Instead they begin to fan out, rebel troopers moving to surround the pod only to stumble away from the stench and smell. They cough and reach, taking pot shots at the Plague Marine while heavy weapons are re-directed to take aim at his bulky form. Strasses voice filters into Soin’s vox,

“Find out whoever this is – I can tell he’s Nurglite from the vox-feed, possibly Death Guard, but I need a closer look.”

Your gauntlets provide protection, though by the time you’ve reached the terrified gunners, you realise large chunks of your right arm have been blown out – but whatever Strasse is pumping you full of is letting you keep going. In fact, it only grows stronger, every wound and injury forcing a powerful rush of adrenaline. You stand before an auto-gunner team, who last mere seconds before their insides coat your ragged form. The other renegade guard begin to re-deploy, the sound of gunfire and las-bolts echoing from down the other end of the corridor. The Skitarii reserve burst through a set of doors, flanking the Guardsmen and leaving them caught between you.