Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25684606-20180802153703/@comment-30059998-20181022145212

Volprecht saw the Apothecary slowly being overwhelmed by the mob that had converged upon him and a righteous fury began to course through his body. He was furious at the existence of the Orks and their audacity to attack an Imperial world, furious at the Death Spectre for showing up at a horrible time, and most of all he was furious at the thought that not all of them will be able to survive this encounter. The very notion of the Emperor's finest dying by the hands of savage xenos fueled his anger. They were Astartes, the best of the best, and he would be damned if they were to perish like mere mortals. As long as he drew breath, the Templar vowed that none of his squadmates would fall. Even the Librarian and the Death Spectre.

Dismissing the remainder of the Orks that had attacked him, the Templar turned and sprinted towards his brother with his shield poised in front of him so that he could plow through the Orks who would get in his way. As he got closer, he removed the pin of another grenade and lobbed it at the Orks so that Kellen would have some breathing room before brandishing his activated power sword once more. At the corner of his eye, Volprecht saw an alleyway wide enough to accommodate two marines standing shoulder to shoulder.

"Killteam Ciaran, gather at the alleyway to our right. Their numbers won't make a difference in such a narrow passage." Volprecht ordered over the new frequency, before yelling in defiance at the Orks who have dared attack Killteam Ciaran. His fury reaching new levels as he attempted to coax more Orks to attack him rather than his teammates.

"I AM VOLPRECHT KRANOLUX OF THE BLACK TEMPLARS! SWORD-BROTHER OF THE ETERNAL CRUSADE, A KNIGHT OF ROGAL DORN'S BLESSED LEGACY! COME AT ME XENO SCUM AND TASTE MY BLADE!"