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Old 31 Oct 2007, 22:46   #1 (permalink)
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Here is my Imperial Guard slash Tau story. Depending on my chronic Laziness, and the quality of my consecutive ideas, more of the story will probably not be up for some time.

Shas’la Ur’kal took another look through the long-range viewfinders. One, Two… Four, He thought to himself; Leman Russ, Romonov Pattern. The clanking of tracks and humming of engines engulfed the pathfinder with noise. An angry Tank commander popped out of one of the top hatches. Ur’kal tried to discern the words, but they were lost in the noise. Each tank bore a, a Heavy Bolter? Yes, that was it. A quick glance at his reference equipment confirmed him. The heavily armed tanks had two Heavy Bolters, one Lascannon, and a Battlcannon each.
“Shas’vre, I can see phalanx of armor towards your position. A little South of Outpost six. Looks like a mechanized company.”
“Excellent, Shas’la, The foolish Gue’la are finally coming to fight. Regroup with Shas’ui Mon’ral at waypoint nine.”
The sudden high-pitched screeching of a shell startled him. Glancing out the window, he watched as it demolished a nearby Manofactorum.
Crouching low under the window, Ur’kal gathered all his gear. His Rail Rifle, Nutrition Elements, and Hydration Elements would be transported with ease. Taking a last look around the building that had hidden him from the ravages of war, he noticed a movement in the house across the street. Nervously bringing his Rifle to shoulder, Ur’kal voxed his squadmate Or’el in the other building.
“Time to go, rendezvous at waypoint nine.”
As if in response to his transmission, a sharp, staccato burst came from Or’el’s position. Throwing himself flat, Ur’kal heard a pulse carbine fire twice, and them three rapid-fire shots like the former. Risking a glance, Ur’kal raised his head to the windowsill just in time to see Or’el’s body fall from the second floor. The pathfinder bit back a cry of shock and sadness as his companion’s body hit the ground.
A gue’la appeared at the window with a smirk on his face, as if surveying his work. In a fit of rage, Ur’kal steadied his weapon on the windowsill. He aimed carefully right between the man’s eyes. The man was fairly tall, and wore more armor than most Gue’la warriors. Reading the nameplate, Ur’kal saw that the man’s name was Mikhail Vespov. Private Mikhail Vespov. The angry pathfinder squeezed the trigger.

* * *

The first platoon of D company, 18th Romonov Grenadiers had been watching the building for days. Noticing only a small amount of movement, they still knew there was a Xeno hiding in it. One storm trooper squad was scooping the building from a nearby building. Another was heading through the sewers to the building, known as waypoint four, judging by intercepted Xenos transmissions. Pvt. Mikhail Vespov’s squad was currently readying to zip-line onto the roof. There was a stairway on the roof to the third floor; that was their entrance. Cpl. Verich Alehov held the rope-cannon with the line. Lt. Alex Yuriv directed his aim.
“Okay, Verich, you have one and only one shot. Wait for some sort of explosion to cover the noise of the rifle. A little to the left… yes, perfect. Prepare to fire on my mark.”
Cpl. Alehov steadied his grip on the rope-cannon, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Mikhail tensed as he heard the whine of a shell. Three things happened at once. The loud noise of a nearby explosion engulfed their ears, Yuriv dropped his hand, and Alehov fired the cannon. The explosion covered the noise of the rope cannon’s impact, and the squad observing voxed that the quarry had made no visible movements to prevent what was happening.
“Sergeant Stentin, we are ready to enter the building” Yuriv voxed to the squad in the sewer. “GO! GO! GO!”
Cpl. Alehov led the way, flying along the line and landing on the roof. The rest of the squad behind him, Vespov felt, rather than heard, thuds in the building below. As if in answer, Vespov’s squad hurled grenades through the stairwell leading to the floor below. Seconds after the explosions, ten metal-armored beings that were Imperial Storm troopers appeared from the smoke above. The red lights glinted from their helmets as they surveyed the hall. Vespov and Alehov moved to the door furthest from the squad to search. Alehov kicked the door in, and crouched down along the wall, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Vespov swept the room with his vision, and, finding nothing, voxed “Clear!” almost simultaneously with the rest of the squad.
Reforming at the stairwell to the second floor, they waited until Stentin’s squad had cleared the first floor. The squad almost leapt when the words “First floor, Clear!” came through the vox. An unfortunate private by the name of Tarintov stumbled as he went down the stairs. Using several surprising oaths, Tarintov’s surprise only magnified as he tripped a hidden explosive and disappeared in a blinding explosion. Peering through the smoke, Vespov could barely make out his comrade’s bloody and shrapnel-riddled body.
Damn, Vespov thought, People could hear that for miles…
A rapid burst of Pulse Fire riddled Alehov, who crumpled down the stairs. Vespov watched as two rounds passed mere inches from his face.
“Man Down, Man Down!”
The entire world was a rolling mass of yells and smoke. Vespov could see several shapes in the smoke, crouched at the corner of a door. He spun around as a pulse round blasted the helmet from his head. Dazed and blinking, the Romonovian private staggered out of the room. Dim shouts penetrated his ringing ears, and Mikhail Vespov flicked the switch on his Hellgun from “Semi” to “Auto”. Rounding the corner once more, Vespov fired a burst at a Gray-Black shape. The unfortunate recipient of these shots bore a long, rectangular weapon, and elegant curved armor. The alien snapped his head toward Vespov just as the bood-red las-rounds hit him. Two shots hit the alien in the throat, sending a spiraling fountain of blue-green blood toward the ceiling. Two more shots impacted in his chest, and, though the alien armor was tough, the Hellgun rounds cut through it like a chainsword through skin. Staggering backwards, the alien dashed another wave of blood to the floor. One last round impacted in the alien’s head, knocking him out the window.
Vespov took a moment to look around the room. Empty cans, ammo cartridges of an alien design, and what looked like some personal effects were scattered about the room. There was a bed in the far corner, and the room commanded an excellent view of the street they were on. The Romonovian private stepped to the window for a better look, and the entire world turned white…
Originally Posted by Crazedmongoose
I'm certain that when I grow old I'll become probably conservative and my rebellious teenage children will rail against me for supporting the enslavement of animals classed as "pets" under a cruel regime of apartheid, and also think I'm a bigot cos I don't want to allow neo-cyborg lupine hyper sexual marriage.
Originally Posted by BloodiedFangs
Scoutninja's 100% correct.

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