[BatRep] Apoc - The Defense of CH22 - Prologue

The private ran. He ran faster than he could've imagined possible. When sentries stepped forward to challenge his intentions he waved the piece of paper in his hands at them, "There's no time!! Colonel Xiev needs to see what I have here in my hand, lest we all die should I be any later than is necessary!" He finally made his way to the Colonel's strategium. "Sir! Our scout forces on the ground have confirmed a large wave of Greenskins headed this way, larger than we have ever seen before, enough of the foul mutants to to seem like a sea of green."

Xiev Krotex had been in overall command of CH22 since it's inception. Orks were nothing new to his command. "Show me." With a curt nod he beckoned the young private to him. Practically shoving the paper into the Colonel's face, the private at last collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. After only a short moment, the Colonel began barking orders to his aides and attendants. "Issue General Quarters, Code Alpha Omega. Prepare all Heavy Support teams to battle stations and begin fortifying the outward walls. Get a logistics officer here now so we can begin the process of setting up supply and ration statements. All quartermasters are to to re-inventory ammunition and war supplies, down to the last Lho Stick and Las Pack. Have the Astropaths immediately begin sending for aid system wide. Pray to the Emperor our calls will not fall on deaf ears.

The bridge of the ship was dark, a shadowy web of cables, servitor chatter, and a few mortal beings who had the honor of being what little percentage of the ship was human crew. The remainder of the ship was much the same, all except one place, the personal cell of one of the Angels of the Emperor. Here, in solemn
meditation, the eyes of a giant slowly opened, his iris and pupils a dying white shade. Slowly rising, garbed only in the training chiton of his chapter, a smile crossed his face. The Rune Priest quickly made his way to to where the Captain was overseeing the sparring of some of the Blood Claws. Seeing the Priest approach his gaze turned to him, "What is it Brother?"

"We must divert to Praxus at once, the taint, it shadows the world and threatens to swallow it whole lest we intervene."
The temporary "command post" as they were calling it was still but for the sound of chanting. Slow and rhythmic, the cultists were focused entirely on their task, lest one of their masters end their insignificant existence. The area was dark and foreboding, but not nearly as much as the two beings, if they could still be called "beings", that were present. One his armor covered in rusty stains, with dozens of symbols adorning his worn and battered armor. He had seen war, and ever been a participant in the bloody crucible of death that only close quarter killing could provide. The other, his armor a midnight blue, yet what appeared as lightning coruscated across its surface. His Terminator armor taking the bulk of the space where the two stood.

"The greenskins...they move upon the bastion of those wretched humans without a care or a thought. Such ignorance. This way of war is strange to us, yet it is the fastest way to achieve our goals and end this tenuous alliance." Spoke the Terminator.

"What do you care Sorceror?!?!" Spat the other. "Their way of war is exactly what is needed for US achieve our goal. To the warp with your mission and this alliance. We are only cooperating to further our own aims, as I am certain you are as well...Night Lord. Enough idle chatter, our axes cry for blood and the Blood God demands sacrifice, and he will get it in scores when these final days come for the humans and whatever else answers their precious distress calls."
"Git deez wagons and bikes ready ta splat some humie gutz boyz!!! We gotta show Gork and Mork dat we's da toughest and strongest boyz!!" An ork. A very big Ork was kicking his boys into the dirt around their machines, making sure that they would all be in the best fighting condition they could be in. For these beasts that usually meant that they were dirty, pieces were falling off, and parts of the machines barely worked. But as long as the "killy bitz" and the speed needles were pegged, that was all that mattered.

"Derez a big pile of stinkin' pink fleshies, and all dat dey own in that soon to be slagged pile o' dirt, and we's got just da machine's for da job!!" As he let out a low growl combined with a chuckle. He walked toward his bike, the biggest,meanest looking one there, and slapped his goggles down on his torn face.
Unbeknownst to the Orks, they were not alone. Nearby, concealed in the shadows, eyes were watching. Super human eyes through red tinted lenses. These eyes had no fear of the orks, and the fire burned in their hearts to slay every last one of them. But they were not stupid nor foolhardy enough to charge brashly into a fight head on. No their tactics were those of the saboteur, the assassin, the cold blooded killer. Now that the Ork target was known, their recon had come to an end. "We must inform the Captain, the Orks will no doubt descend upon CH22 soon, and we must be there waiting for them." And with a nod and hand gesture, a murder of Ravens took flight.
This is the prologue to an apocalypse game played between 6 players, written as a narrative to both make it easier to document and enhance the overall feel of the battle. The rest will be broken into 5 chapters, 1 per game turn and will include all the pictures of the battle as well. Enjoy it, we certainly did.  - Scribed, written and embelished by my friend dmielken and posted originally on his blog Stalking Among Shadows