Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20190911202955/@comment-25684606-20191019174841

"Aye, we better run it" replied Lem, grabbing his gun and following the procession of Space Marines, Coghead and regular guardsmen along with Ishmael. Having never been outdoors, the concept of a lacking, protective ceiling seemed just unnatural to him, so he let Ishmael go ahead, perfectly trusting that his newfound friend knew his way around these tree-things or whatever they were called.

More than once, he twitched around at the sound of what he did not know were birds or other animals, and if it weren't the sounds of animals spooking him, it was the absence of sounds that unnerved the dreg. That was, of course, only until the shots and the guttural screams began to echo through the forest, quickly followed by the downpour of blood. Lem stopped in his tracks looking upwards, frowning. How the Throne was it raining blood? There was no floor above them on which a fellow dreg could get chewed up by a machine.

"Oi Ishmael, dis happen often out 'ere?" He asked his partner, pointing upwards with his gun. "Must be mighty inconvenient on them fancy folks wit' their expensive stuff."