[h2][i][color=gray]Iron Within. Iron Without[/color][/i][/h2]

A sound plan. That was how Kraeger had described the idea to infiltrate the govenours palace via the large supply crates that seemed to rarely be thoroughly checked by his men until they were already inside. He had scoffed at this glaring hole in their defenses, any man with so many enemies should have been screening his cargo multiple times long before they were ever anywhere near his home. But, it made a perfect opportunity for the Legionnaires to get in whilst causing minimal collateral damage... of course Kraeger was completely ok with causing maximum collateral damage if that method was easier. Intercepting and aquiring the crates and convincing the drivers to help their cause had not been hard in the slightest.

Of course, all this was a moot point as no one had told Kraeger the crates were just [i]barely[/i] large to fit a Legionnaire in full power armour [i]and[/i] their previous cargo. So, for the past hours he had been crouched amongst a massive pile of what had once been neatly stacked gourmet food. By now said gourmet food had devolved into mush all across the proud warriors armour... he had to keep himself from growling the entire way. At least by the end of this they would be in the palace, and then it would all be over very quickly. The guards checking the cargo were completely unprepared for when Prodigal Son burst from his own crate and opened fire. He was followed shortly by the former Iron Warrior Kraeger Antal, his dark gray armour and proud veteran stripes obscured by the slurry of what was once food. The Legionnaire growled his annoyance, his bolter matching his low growl with a burst of shells. The rounds smashed into a group of guards still stunned by surprise at the suddenly appearing demigods.

Two of the three poor bastards were dead before they knew what had happened, chest busting out as the bolter shells created massive sucking holes amongst their now shredded internal organs. The third and fourth were marginally luckier, one screamed as his arm was blow off at the elbow and sent him tumbling into his comrade. Kraeger chose now to speak up on the Legionnaires shared vox channel, [color=gray][i]"Damnit Prodigal, next time we stick ourselves in crates filled with unkown supplies I get first pick. I don't mind blood and gore but whatever the hell the governour likes putting in his mouth I'd rather not have my armour smelling like it."[/i][/color], he complained in his subdued and half hearted manner, not unlike a man who couldn't give a rats ass if his own foot was shot off.

When he finished his poultry complaint a few of the human guards appeared to still have back bones and opened fire on the armoured behemoth. The scattered las fire did little but vaporize the caked on food which covered his armour and scorched the paint a bit as well. Kraeger turned to face the new threat, kicking his way out of the large crate in order to get more mobility. Splinters flew through the air as he burst the box, the food slurry spraying through the air with them. He did not send another volley, rather with disciplined single pulls of the trigger shells flew to meet their mark. Another guard was flung from his feet by the force of the shell exploding in his chest. It had been a little while since Kraeger haad been in combat again... it felt damn good to be back in his natural space. Gunning down enemies in the name of the Pert- the Emperor... he was still getting used to that.