Sergeant Bourne had been squatting with his back to the inner-left wall of the breach when Ork shells had began falling on the Guardsmen attempting to dig some form of defense for a counter-attack that they all knew would come; by the time the explosives [b]did[/b] start to rain down upon them all, they had managed to dig a shallow, but serviceable, semi-circular trench. Behind them rose up the huge mound of the rubble, metal and ruin that was the breach itself, but between that and the trench being dug some feet forward from it there was nothing but open ground.

He had been watching his own people begin to help with the entrenching when bloodied parts of what had once been Privates O'Shey and MacRostie had struck the ground nearby, one hand moving up to brush a speck of dust from his uniform while the other moved with a will of its own to un-holster his las-pistol, one smooth motion seeing the short-range weapon lifted from his hip and leveled toward the assembly of buildings in front of their position.

With great interest, and some small feeling of jealousy, did he watch as a soldier of the Tushienia 'Lizards' lifted his youthful frame up and made a frankly suicidal charge straight at the semi-concealed artillery position. The fact that this attack, as well as his successful return, were all undertaken beneath the gaze of a fetching Hirisit women of a similar age did not go unnoticed by the now standing veteran. Then again, neither had the fact that several of his own regiment - a few of which had returned with wounds that needed seeing to - had upped and advanced with him into an unknown and foolish situation.

"Colour-Sergeant?"

Two eyes that had been staring at Ninke and Belgond now shifted to focus on a heavy-set soldier, Corporal Humphries, a man who had served with him in the Praetorian Guard and was known as the finest pugilist in the entire regiment. It was even said that he had knocked a Greenskin unconscious with a powerful left hook, and Bourne could well believe it.

"Aye Corporal, what is it?"

"It's the Major, sarge...well, he's gone to meet the Emperor."

Humphries pointed one large finger at the crest of the breach behind them, the prone form of Major Lenox clearly visible and his face now nothing but a bloody hole.

"Cac," exhaled the Sergeant, automatically dipping into his jackets breast pocket and pulling forth a small metallic flask, "I do believe we shall be needing a new CO then," a swig of the amber coloured [i]uisge-beatha[/i] or 'Alban fire water' left a burning sensation down his throat which went deep into the pit of his stomach. Emperor but that was good stuff!

"We will that," after taking his Sergeant up on the offer of a drink, the subordinate soldier returned to his duties and left Bourne once more by himself, alone with his thoughts. It was then that his focus returned to the man that some were now calling a 'good luck mascot', this Hirisit with dirt blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and he decided to go and see exactly what the man was made of.

When he was close enough that he could be heard, the breach oddly quiet for once, he smiled and halted about an arms-length away from Belgond and his fancy.

"So," he began in a most casual manner, "how have you found your first action, Private..." while waiting for a reply, he lifted the flask up that he still clutched in one hand and offered it to both the man and his female companion, a Vox Operator by the looks of her.

Little did any of them know that they would soon find themselves assailed once more, Thrakta nearly at the end of his patience and more than willing to throw these soft, squishy, humies back from the breaches using some of his finest warriors. Soon.

[@agentmanatee][@Bright_Ops]

[hr]


Green flares proceeded the Elysian drops, Captain Keris making sure of that, his goggle-covered eyes watching as the fellow drop-troops piled out of their Valkyries and straight into the perimeter of the Orkish ring that surrounded the isolated Endoran Third; yes, he had to admit that they were good, but they weren't [i]Harakoni good[/i]. It was also not lost on him that the Elysians were possessed of a truly terrible record of entering warzones but never leaving them, their forces annihilated in much the same way as some regiments of his own people.

Unlike the Twelfth and Thirteenth, his own regiment were to be dropped much closer to the Governor's Palace - a drop into an Ork infested sector of the city that he and his forces would probably not survive, such was the duty of the Militarum to their God-Emperor.

Once their transport was about a mile away from the palace itself, he gave the order to drop red flares, hoping that those Leman Russes and any captured artillery could be turned on the crowds of Orks that now began to psyche themselves into a frenzy in preparation of a counter-attack at both breaches in the city walls. The next moment, the flares safetly away and smoking, he strapped his helmet to his head and turned to his men, "Thirty-Third, Harakonari an tellika regala!" He yelled into his helmet-comm, the same phrase shouted back in reply.

With a clear soul and a clear purpose, his Hellgun clenched in his fist and his grav-shute ready, the Captain threw himself headlong out of the Valkyrie and feet-first into the fire...

[@Tenlock][@Agent B52]