Geschrieben von Magos Urb'Anech am 21.11.2019 um 16:52:
Urbdregs Axe-Terminators
....ich hab mir eingebildet dass ich jetzt mit Imperial Guard (fuck astra milliwhatever!) anfangen muss und damit ich nicht zu viele neue Panzer kaufen muss dacht ich...warum ned einfach die von den Orks verwenden? Stark umgebaut sinds ned dann sollte das schon klappen.
Aber damit's legitimisiert wird muss natürlich eine Geschichte her. Noch ned perfektioniert aber im groben und ganzen bin ich recht happy damit!
Die Namen sind evtl ein wenig seltsam aber basieren auf unserer kleinen Spielgruppe ;-)
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Commander Obleit Chroph from the 6365th Billa grunted with exhaustion as he pulled himself out of his turret. Despite the brutal wind occasionally whipping some snowflakes that had fallen the night before into his eyes, he relished the cold air that bit into his lungs and filled him with renewed vigor.
After the Tyranids last attempt to break their lines he might have had more place in the tank, but the heat and fycelene fumes from the expanded ammo certainly compensated well enough to make it uncomfortable. Nevertheless, they held the line as ordered by the shady Inquisitor called Raiff Eisen, the same inquisitor that had promised them reinforcements before the next wave would arrive. Several times during their deployment he had wondered just what was so gorramn important in the town they were guarding, to justify using up his Company like this.
Not that he thought of complaining, he knew his place and he would happily give his life for the Emperor, he just could not imagine an Inquisitor suddenly starting to care for civilians lives. Sometimes he wondered what his life might be like had he been draught from a world with a little more….prestige than his own. An almost lush agriworld offering the Imperium a rich tithe of plant and animal to feed the hunger of it’s citizens it was probably one of the better places to be born, despite being constantly overshadowed by it’s neighboring planet Spar IV.
He just doubted that a glory hugging hugging regiment like those iceworlders led by this poster boy hero Commissar of theirs would be ground up like this. Maybe there was some truth to the scribble on the propaganda poster he had seen where a joker had scribbled “Inquisition Toyboy” onto the guys face along with adding a moustache to the admittedly remarkable sideburns he was wearing.
His Company certainly was in dire need of additional numbers, over two thirds of his men lay in pieces across the blood-soaked trenches they had hastily dug with their few tanks dozer blades. The commissar, a mean piece of work named Schurl, had his hands full patrolling the lines up and down to keep the troopers from doing something they might regret, the ministorum priest constantly following him while squalling out an endless tirade of why the emperor hated this particular bugs the most. His prowess with the Eviscerator slung to his back was masterful and he certainly played a fair part in helping survive specially the last wave but was it worth the price of hearing that grating voice over and over and…? Chroph wasn’t sure.
“Sir? I just received a Message from Inquisitor Eisen, orbital scans indicate that the next wave of Tyranids seems to be coming within the next fifteen minutes, however….” His well fed adjutant Hashim’s voice trailed off as he pushed the headset closer to his ear …”he assures us that relief is on the way and that we are expected to show full cooperation with the arriving force no matter what. He was quite adamant about that. Apparantly an unusual last minute arrangement, but a capable one he assured me!”
“Let the Inquisitor know that I’m grateful for the warning and looking forward to fighting in unison with the other Commander as well as if he was the Emper-…no scratch that. Just thank him and let him know that our full cooperation is assured” Hashim nodded eagerly and went to replying. Let’s hope he got that message right but somehow he doubted the boys abilities…
Well, there it was. Their rescue. There was no way that they could stand up to the next assault, last time the bugs had already brought the first of the really big ones, huge beasts sporting cannons the size of a salamander. One of them had hit the venerable Leman Russ “Wraith of Feinkost” and instead of simply blowing it up, the massive projectile had hauled the entire tank into the next trench line behind it where it still lay, a smoking wreck with its crew cooked to a crisp.
Chroph pushed himself a little further out of the turret before straightened his tunic and took an already soiled handkerchief fiancée from his pocket to wipe the worst of the grime off his cheeks and forehead. If there was another unit coming, then at least the commander of the 6365th should be somewhat presentable. A good impression would certainly facilitate relations with their relief.
“Where the feck are those gakkers?” he cursed silently and reached for the Binocs. “Any word from the relief???” he grunted down into the hatch before turning his attention to the back of valley from where they had deployed from themselves and that served them well so far as in funneling the nids into the bottleneck where they made their stand to stop the chitinous hordes from reaching the settlement that lay just on the other side of the mountain range at which’s foot they were fighting.
“Nothing so far sir, but we’re picking up motorized activity a few clicks into the valley, moving towards us at rather high speed for what appears to be an armored formation… I don’t know what that inquisitor sent but their cogboys certainly know how to get everything out of the engine, that’s for sure!” Chroph briefly grunted his thanks and then returned his attention to the horizon behind him.
After no longer than a minute he saw the first signs. Dark smoked seemed to billow up into the cold and clear air and then the first, well known profile of a Leman Russ came into view, apparently racing away ahead of a host of hellhounds, chimeras and a load of half tracked cargo haulers following the armored vehicles. The last time he saw troopers that determined to get into battle, he was forced to fight alongside a penal legion, although those poor bastards were probably more afraid of that Colonel leading them than the enemy….he tried to remember the Name. Schalter…Schaeller?....it didn’t matter.
Chroph could finally hear the engines of the majestic battle tank, an ancient Exterminator as far as he could tell from the distance, churning towards his own vehicle while spewing out even more of the black clouds from what certainly didn’t seem to be the standard exhaust stacks sanctioned for use by the priests of mars.
Well, other regiments – other interpretations of rules. And those daredevils certainly abandoned even the most cavalier regard for the rules on how to drive a tank! There was no more need for the binoculars and he stowed them away again, stood up straight and prepared to welcome the other commander to the theatre. Suddenly things looked a good deal brighter than an hour ago…
The tank did not slow down until the last moment, then the driver slammed the brakes and it slid forward on blocked tracks, coming to a stop just parallel of Chrophs own vehicle, almost ending up in the trench a little further had it not used the huge dozer blade as well to dig himself into the frozen ground, the rear raising up almost meter and then slamming back down with the noise of tortured suspension springs.
The seasoned commander made a mental note to report about that bastard showoffs conduct once this was over. And on closer look, it was just well that he would rat him out to head command, the tank certainly needed proper treatment. Oil seemed to leak out of every second hatch, over the patchy white camouflage pattern and further down to stain the snow. No wonder if you tortured your machine like that, Chroph thought to himself just before his eyes caught sight of the rear of the vehicle.
An entire additional engine block of a crude design he was not familiar with was welded onto the chassis, thick, crude exhaust pipes still belching oily smoke along with the now audible, high pitched whine of an oversized turbocharger in idle. More even as the driver revved the tortured vehicle once more and then let it splutter a few times before turning it off.
Now Chroph was on the verge of anger, the veins on his forehead bulging under the flatcap and he narrowed his eyes as he focused on the turret of the other tank, the crossed axes on the side not ringing any bells to what regiment that might be.
Suddenly the hatch clanked open and underneath a stained commissars cap a green, misshapen head with a bionic eye rose from the steaming interior, looking around and breaking into a wide, yellow toothed grin into which he stuck a pipe fashioned from what looked like plumbing…
“OI! Ye been hindin’ away pretty gud! Da Inkwisitor sed yous gitz be needin’ a lil ‘elp with da scuttlies eh?” the scarred ork looked at him as if it was an everyday event while Chroph just gawked in disbelief. Not enough that the ork was commanding a Leman Russ…it was speaking gothic????
Before the stunned Commander could react the ork cumbersomely pushed himself out of the turret cursing like an ….ork? before standing up, pulling what seemed like a very, bad imitation of a tankers or pilots jacket worn over a black uniform into place.
The rest of the “Imperial” vehicles had finally caught up with the Exterminator and a tsunami of gretchin in apparently factory new and starched uniforms poured from the half tracks in rank and file, directed into positions between the also deploying tanks by rotund automatons barking in metallic voices that projected a shimmering force field around their charges. It even seemed as if there were orks in commissars uniforms between the orks exiting the chimeras, red sash and everything. the surreal spectacle continued on the other tank.
The ork spit a huge goblet of yellow colored, thick phlegm onto the side of Chrophs own tank, wiped a strand of drool dangling off his chin with the sleeve and kept the pipe between his teeth as he saluted…….“Urbdregs Axe-Turminayturs at ye service!" The ork paused as he saw the still baffled expression on the imperials face and added something else in an attempt to ease the tension between them with yet another one of those favored grins "Fur da Emprah, roight?"
Something told Chroph that he needed a drink once all this was over….