Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20161215224118/@comment-1734134-20170227224038

The medic nods and begins to silently work, bandaging the wounds and administrating painkillers - even as the occasional las-bolt flies over head.

More Imperials fall as the smoke rises from the now blazing admin structure, the sound of gunfire a constant torrent of noise. More and more rebels seem to pour inside, while the entire settlement is riddled with high power explosives from distant artillery pieces. Brerier remains on his vox, continuing to direct the assault from a distance - only for a violent blast to rock the building. A scorching melta beam cuts down a pair of rebel guardsmen as heavily armoured Imperial troops emerge - Autumn at their head.

Clad in a clumsy mixture of armour patterns, cobbled into something equivalent to a curde set of power armour. A force field sparks to life around him - crackling with unstable energy. In one hand he carries a bolt pistol and the other is clad in an ancient, baroque power claw - a blade attached to the top of the gauntlet, lying below a plasma pistol. He lases out at a rebel with an entrenching tool and cuts him in two, before pointing towards the witch and his retinue.

"I only bring this out for special occasions," he flexes his power claw - the sword jutting down and glowing red with energy, "I think this will be one of them."