[@DeadDrop][@Sola][@FrostedCaramel][@Oak7ree][@Drunken Conquistador][@CaptainBritton][@tech][@Katthaj]


[hr][Centre][b]Dugatov City Outskirts - 0600 HRS[/b][/centre][hr]


No one had really known what to expect upon arrival near Dugatov - not their enemy, the condition of the terrain, nothing. It must have been especially irking therefore when the transport finally descended to the planets surface, the NCOs standing to and bellowing for their squads to prepare themselves for immediate debarcation.

It was probably for the best that the transports had held no windows or portholes that would have allowed the Guardsmen to see outside, as the conditions of the planet onto which they were moving were...unappealing to say the least.

The sky, wracked with streaks of lightning and the bass boom of thunder, rain pouring down in a never-ending sheet, was as crimson as a Vostroyan parade uniform and equally as hard to look at. Similarly the deep earth, pockmarked with natural and unnatural foxholes both, the wreckages of various Mechanicus vehicles littering the Mars-like landscape outside the walls of Dugatov City itself, was must as red and far more trecherous.

Sergeant Bashil was one of the lower-rank officers calling for his squad to make ready to disembark, the other squads of the platoon doing the same all around them, and stood perfectly still even during the turbulent piercing of the atmosphere and, finally, the landing of the transport onto [i]terra firma[/i].

"[b]Alright, Fourth Squad! Up and ready.[/b]"

Ruadhan released his safety harness and stood to in a surprisingly fluid motion - rocking somewhat as the lander gave a [i]thump[/i] and was still, only the glare of the red light and the chugging of the idling engine (along with the now familiar noises of Third Platoon arranging themselves) filling his ears - one slender hand grasping his lasgun and his youthful eyes focusing on Bashil, his mind in utter turmoil.

Somewhere up ahead were black-coated agents of the Commissariet, their weapons of 'encouragement' held ready, 2nd Lieutenant Tasi also able to be seen right by the landing ramp as it began to yawn open...


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Dugatov City, or what was left of it, rose up in the distance - able to be seen through the constant pouring of rain if one were to wipe their eyes and raise a hand over their brow - a previously sprawling Martian stronghold and excavation site that had fallen silent, the very reason they were now standing in squad-by-squad formation and getting more soaked through every second; metallic walls that had been obviously breached were the clearest structures, glinting with moisture when the lightning flashed overhead, towers of differing sorts reaching toward the skies in the manner of crooked fingers...and who knew what lay within the confines of the city itself?

"Line up! Line up!" Yelled Bashil and his fellow NCOs over both the weather and the engines of other landers, several regiments already forming themselves up facing the city on these barren and wasted plains - including the Frigian Twelfth (a heavy assault regiment from an industrial world), and the Ardus Armoured Division (a tank regiment of primarily Leman Russ Demolishers) - Ruadháns eyes widening as he saw the heavy vehicles positioning themselves in line with their foot-slogging cousins.

It took nearly an hour, but soon enough the entire Vosmarth Regulars were arrayed in neat (and very wet) ranks - strangely no movement coming from the city a couple of miles before them - the various HQ elements of the regiment consulting with one another even as further Imperial forces lined up on their flanks.

All appeared to be going well, and it was...for a while.

The first anyone knew of an attack was when the ground began to move, the red sands about a mile in front of the Imperial forces - in between the walls of the city and their front lines - shifting and shaking to reveal humanoid figures that, from that distance and through the rain, were not accurately identifiable; a swift scattering of the regiments officers was enough to tell the common soldier that something was up, the cannons of the Ardus Armoured and other 'heavy' formations opening up all along the line.

Orders were barked throughout the regiment, and Sergeant Bashil turned to Fourth Squad with a grim expression on his usually plain face.

"[b]Keep hold of your weapons, stick close to your mates, and keep up the rate of fire once we engage the enemy. Do not run, or you all know what will happen.[/b]"

Ruadhán shivered both with cold and with fear, his eyes making out the slowly shambling horde of skeletal figures like shadows in the rain, their weapons glowing with an eerie green light and their fallen comrades - scatched by shrapnel or even blown apart - rising moments after 'dying'.

[color=7ea7d8]"God-Emperor protect us,"[/color] he hissed, his trousers becoming warm from liquid that wasn't rain, [color=7ea7d8]"God-Emperor protect us all."[/color]