Scouring of Outpost H512

[Kroupus]

Prelude - The Attack

 

Johann blinked back into consciousness. The harsh flames of the burning outpost blinding him for a moment. The attack was swift, the automated weapons barely registering a threat before the enemy was deep inside the compound. Johann scrambled towards his autopistol, laying a few feet away, next to the remains of his close friend, Soren. His body lay on its side, a vertical slice halving his chest. He noticed a strange expression on Soren's face, on of both joy and pain. Johann grabbed his pistol and turned away from his dead friend.

 

He raised his weapon towards the silhouette of the nearest creature. It had a lithe, slender body, pale skin lit by the flickering flames. It turned to him, a thin smile crossing its purple lips. Johann went to pull the trigger but his hand refused. A soft voice passed around his head. It made him both nauseous and calm, a dizzying feeling filling his body. He lowered his pistol as the creature raised a clawed hand to him, beckoning him forward. The destructive scenes around him dimmed. With each step forward his world narrowed. First to a few feet, then to mere inches, walking further forward towards the creature. The creature's smile betrayed its wicked, sharp teeth. It whispered to him, words Johann had no time to absorb, as the creature bit into his throat, spilling his blood across the muddy floor. Johann fell to his knees, hand gripping his neck to try and stem the flow. His world expanded out, a dizzying array of senses flooding back. The creature lifted a claw and swiftly ended his life.

[Kroupus]

Part One

 

When they were still in orbit Zaunder thought the moon looked like a glowing jewel. After fifteen kilometres march through the jungle, he had changed his mind. And that was before the rain had started. It seemed to pour horizontally at him, yet it didn't stop the heat. He wrapped his cloak around him. Too hot. Took it off. Too wet. Join the 22nd, they said. Your duty to the Emperor, they said . Zaunder kicked out at a fallen fruit, slipped, and landed face first in the mud. "Damnit!" He grumbled. He felt himself getting dragged up, almost as fast as he fell. His muddy face dropped. Sergeant Hobhowze, gripping onto his lapels, a look as stern as he was broad. Zaunder tried to splutter and apology. The sergeant silenced him with a stare, "You will hold your tongue if you want to keep it, guardsmen!" Sergeant Hobhowze bellowed with a sneer, covering Zaunder with spittle. "Wipe yourself down, get on point and we shall deal with this later. Is that clear?" The Sergeant let go, Zaunder almost fell again. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. Zaunder scurried to the front of his squad. The posters made enlistment seem much more glamorous. The grand 22nd, only the finest of Cassan's sons could join, we were the bodyguard of an Inquisitor after all. But Zaunder would now trade the potential glory to be sat on his balcony with a glass of Amasec. "Oi, Zaunder!" Kraddon shouted, "have you finished day dreaming?" He turned to reply, saw Hobhowze eyeing him and said nothing. What he would do for a drink right now.

 

 

They could smell the outpost before they could see it. The acrid smoke and sickly smell of burnt flesh filled Zaunder's nostrils. The walls of Outpost H512 stood fifteen metres high. Great blocks of granite entwined with vines and other local flora. Yet there was no damage to them. No lasburns, no shell marks, they were in perfect order. How did this happen? Thought Zaunder, still a bit queasy from the smell.

 

Sergeant Hobhowze approached, flanked by Guardsmen Prowze and Huxley. "3rd squad have already checked the perimeter. They had a coghead assign a sentinel to them, been here a good hour already," said Hobhowze. "Being the Commander's son is helping out Sergeant Krentell." Zaunder thought he saw Hobhowze smile, but dismissed it immediately. "We are to rendezvous with them and the Inquisitor, inside the outpost and see what him and the tin men want to do next."