Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20161215224118/@comment-1734134-20161216225700

The barracks shake. Dust and grime fall from the roof as a man with a bloodied face stumbles through the doors, seeing you and trying to mouth something before collapsing onto the floor. As you rush outside, reaching the open doors, you can see smoke and fire. The high pitched whine of a mortar fills your ears and you can see the shell rise high into the air before smashing into a squalid building. The streets are filled with panicking people, the soldiers are to running around in disarray as more light artillery peppers the encampment. Autumn, rushes up the steps towards you, a wounded soldier collapsing behind him as blood runs down his shrapnel riddled face,

“We have rebels at the main gate,” he pants, pointing southwards, “Skirmishers, supported by light artillery. If they get through, more and more will come to reinforce them. My men are too few.”

You can’t argue with that logic. You join Leopold and two platoons of his men, some dragging along autocannons and bolt guns as you rush through the rapidly emptying markets and streets, several buildings now alight with flames. It doesn’t take long before you’re at the main gate, or what’s left of it. The right door has fallen to the ground, it’s steel surface sourced by lascannon fire. Before it sits a number of blasted sand bag positions, and several fallen Imperial soldiers lie sprawled on the ground.

Through the smoke and fire emerge a group of, what you can presume to be, rebels. They aren’t too different to the PDF; simple fatigues, face masks and scavenged armour, but their weapons are almost factory new. They were green head and arm bands, one clutching onto a black banner bearing an Imperial eagle. Autumn takes the first shot, felling one of the militants before ducking into cover.