StarKrakChro3 - Revision history

imported>Administrator: 10 revisions imported

2023-06-22T16:38:24Z

10 revisions imported

← Older revision	Revision as of 16:38, 22 June 2023
(No difference)

imported>Administrator: 1 revision imported

2023-06-19T03:51:42Z

1 revision imported

← Older revision	Revision as of 03:51, 19 June 2023
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104.220.162.108 at 02:48, 24 December 2022

2022-12-24T02:48:46Z

104.220.162.108: /* Black Fist Boarding */ oops

2022-12-24T02:44:30Z

Black Fist Boarding: oops

← Older revision		Revision as of 02:44, 24 December 2022
Line 5:		Line 5:
	With a grunt, he dismissed such foolish sentiment. Now was the time for battle and blood, not idle wonderings. He replaced the magazine in his bolter and moved carefully down the corridor. Orks substitute cunning and guile for actual intelligence, but were no less deadly for it. He and his squad had split up to get a detailed idea of this part of the enemy ship’s interior. The design, while bearing some passing aesthetic resemblance, was too different to their own ship for any assumptions to be made. It was vital for detailed layout of the ship be available to the command before they launched the full assault. Harjek’s squad, Black Fist first tactical squad, had been given the honour of first blood. After breaching, they had massacred the confused Orks in the area before splitting up to begin reconnaissance. Having committed the layout of the interlocking corridors for his assigned area, Harjek now made his way back to breaching area. There was a wager on to see who would be last back, and he was determined not to let it be him.		With a grunt, he dismissed such foolish sentiment. Now was the time for battle and blood, not idle wonderings. He replaced the magazine in his bolter and moved carefully down the corridor. Orks substitute cunning and guile for actual intelligence, but were no less deadly for it. He and his squad had split up to get a detailed idea of this part of the enemy ship’s interior. The design, while bearing some passing aesthetic resemblance, was too different to their own ship for any assumptions to be made. It was vital for detailed layout of the ship be available to the command before they launched the full assault. Harjek’s squad, Black Fist first tactical squad, had been given the honour of first blood. After breaching, they had massacred the confused Orks in the area before splitting up to begin reconnaissance. Having committed the layout of the interlocking corridors for his assigned area, Harjek now made his way back to breaching area. There was a wager on to see who would be last back, and he was determined not to let it be him.

	As he moved through the ship, he switched his bolter for his bolt pistol, letting the rifle hang in the strap around his torso. In the middle of the fray, he had been forced to resort to some unconventional tactics. Like ramming his bolter into a large Ork’s mouth and pulling the trigger again and again. Well, perhaps it had been somewhat voluntary. His eyes still flickering across the wreckage of the corridor, his hands reloaded the pistol before holstering it. Finally, he brought out his combat knife and started to ~~wprk~~ out the chunks of gore from the serrated edges. The squelches and rips were the only sound in the dim corridor. Except, somewhere behind him, Harjek caught the telltale scratch of blade being unsheathed. As he span to face the sound, something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling.		As he moved through the ship, he switched his bolter for his bolt pistol, letting the rifle hang in the strap around his torso. In the middle of the fray, he had been forced to resort to some unconventional tactics. Like ramming his bolter into a large Ork’s mouth and pulling the trigger again and again. Well, perhaps it had been somewhat voluntary. His eyes still flickering across the wreckage of the corridor, his hands reloaded the pistol before holstering it. Finally, he brought out his combat knife and started to work out the chunks of gore from the serrated edges. The squelches and rips were the only sound in the dim corridor. Except, somewhere behind him, Harjek caught the telltale scratch of blade being unsheathed. As he span to face the sound, something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling.

	The creature, and from its stench he knew it to be an Ork, wrapped one arm around his neck. Harjek heard the skitter of a weapon tearing down his ceramite armour, but the Ork hadn’t got the space to stab hard enough to penetrate it. With a roar, Harjek thrust his torso down while yanking the arm aggressively. The greenskin yelped as it flew over his shoulders and slammed into the floor. Heavy as it was, the Ork was fast. It was already rolling to one side when Harjek’s knife slammed into the deck where its head had been. Before he could make another pass, the creature was on its feet and facing him. It wasn’t much bigger than most of the Orks he had fought, but it had lean muscle and scar tissue in place of bulk. Its skin was a darker green and looked thicker. In its hand was a long knife, half again as long as Harjek’s. Most Orks held their weapons high, the better to hack and bash with. This Ork had his knees bent, his mass low and the knife held in front of him in a cautious position. Its small, dark eyes were constantly flicking across Harjek’s body, evaluating his stance and armour. Across one side of its face was a streak of peeling blue paint, some of it splattered onto the long fangs that sprouted from its mouth. This was a different sort of Ork to the ones Harjek had fought before in his life.		The creature, and from its stench he knew it to be an Ork, wrapped one arm around his neck. Harjek heard the skitter of a weapon tearing down his ceramite armour, but the Ork hadn’t got the space to stab hard enough to penetrate it. With a roar, Harjek thrust his torso down while yanking the arm aggressively. The greenskin yelped as it flew over his shoulders and slammed into the floor. Heavy as it was, the Ork was fast. It was already rolling to one side when Harjek’s knife slammed into the deck where its head had been. Before he could make another pass, the creature was on its feet and facing him. It wasn’t much bigger than most of the Orks he had fought, but it had lean muscle and scar tissue in place of bulk. Its skin was a darker green and looked thicker. In its hand was a long knife, half again as long as Harjek’s. Most Orks held their weapons high, the better to hack and bash with. This Ork had his knees bent, his mass low and the knife held in front of him in a cautious position. Its small, dark eyes were constantly flicking across Harjek’s body, evaluating his stance and armour. Across one side of its face was a streak of peeling blue paint, some of it splattered onto the long fangs that sprouted from its mouth. This was a different sort of Ork to the ones Harjek had fought before in his life.

104.220.162.108: /* Black Fist Boarding */

2022-12-24T02:44:06Z

Black Fist Boarding

← Older revision		Revision as of 02:44, 24 December 2022
Line 1:		Line 1:
	==Black Fist Boarding==		==Black Fist Boarding==

	As his fist smashed into the greenskin’s brutish jaw, Harjek was already spinning away. The snarl toothed combat knife in his other hand followed the motion of his twist, slashing open an opponent’s face. He felt someone trying to grasp his shoulder pad, and executed a hammering reversal. The move shattered the Ork’s arm at the elbow and sent him stumbling away. Following him, Harjek hacked an opening in the press and moved into an open area. A single practised movement brought his bolter to his hip, and a second later he let loose a devastating hail of bolts. It had been a ~~text book~~ manoeuvre, gathering them into one place before disengaging and shooting them down, and he allowed himself a small grin. He didn't smile too hard, in case he was caught. If his squad mates found him grinning like skull in the middle of a battle field, he’s never hear the end of it. Instead, he surveyed the ship corridor. It reminded him of the interior of his own ship, its architecture and origin clearly imperial. The cracked walls and chunks of rock were absent on ''The Trident'' however, as were the dead Orks. Perhaps this had once been a loyal imperial vessel, before being consigned to its current, ignominious fate. Doomed to shuttle filthy greenskins from one mad battle to the next, pausing only to be tossed through the warp without the benefit of Gellar fields. Harjek had never been one to closely observe the rituals and beliefs of the tech priests, but the predicament of this ship touched him.		As his fist smashed into the greenskin’s brutish jaw, Harjek was already spinning away. The snarl-toothed combat knife in his other hand followed the motion of his twist, slashing open an opponent’s face. He felt someone trying to grasp his shoulder pad, and executed a hammering reversal. The move shattered the Ork’s arm at the elbow and sent him stumbling away. Following him, Harjek hacked an opening in the press and moved into an open area. A single practised movement brought his bolter to his hip, and a second later he let loose a devastating hail of bolts. It had been a textbook manoeuvre, gathering them into one place before disengaging and shooting them down, and he allowed himself a small grin. He didn't smile too hard, in case he was caught. If his squad mates found him grinning like skull in the middle of a battle field, he’s never hear the end of it. Instead, he surveyed the ship corridor. It reminded him of the interior of his own ship, its architecture and origin clearly imperial. The cracked walls and chunks of rock were absent on ''The Trident'' however, as were the dead Orks. Perhaps this had once been a loyal imperial vessel, before being consigned to its current, ignominious fate. Doomed to shuttle filthy greenskins from one mad battle to the next, pausing only to be tossed through the warp without the benefit of Gellar fields. Harjek had never been one to closely observe the rituals and beliefs of the tech priests, but the predicament of this ship touched him.

	With a grunt, he dismissed such foolish sentiment. Now was the time for battle and blood, not idle wonderings. He replaced the magazine in his bolter and moved carefully down the corridor. Orks substitute cunning and guile for actual intelligence, but were no less deadly for it. He and his squad had split up to get a detailed idea of this part of the enemy ship’s interior. The design, while bearing some passing aesthetic resemblance, was too different to their own ship for any assumptions to be made. It was vital for detailed layout of the ship be available to the command before they launched the full assault. Harjek’s squad, Black Fist first tactical squad, had been given the honour of first blood. After breaching, they had massacred the confused Orks in the area before splitting up to begin reconnaissance. Having committed the layout of the interlocking corridors for his assigned area, Harjek now made his way back to breaching area. There was a wager on to see who would be last back, and he was determined not to let it be him.		With a grunt, he dismissed such foolish sentiment. Now was the time for battle and blood, not idle wonderings. He replaced the magazine in his bolter and moved carefully down the corridor. Orks substitute cunning and guile for actual intelligence, but were no less deadly for it. He and his squad had split up to get a detailed idea of this part of the enemy ship’s interior. The design, while bearing some passing aesthetic resemblance, was too different to their own ship for any assumptions to be made. It was vital for detailed layout of the ship be available to the command before they launched the full assault. Harjek’s squad, Black Fist first tactical squad, had been given the honour of first blood. After breaching, they had massacred the confused Orks in the area before splitting up to begin reconnaissance. Having committed the layout of the interlocking corridors for his assigned area, Harjek now made his way back to breaching area. There was a wager on to see who would be last back, and he was determined not to let it be him.

	As he moved through the ship, he switched his bolter for his bolt pistol, letting the rifle hang in the strap around his torso. In the middle of the fray, he had been forced to resort to some unconventional tactics. Like ramming his bolter into a large Ork’s mouth and pulling the trigger again and again. Well, perhaps it had been somewhat voluntary. His eyes still flickering across the wreckage of the corridor, his hands reloaded the pistol before holstering it. Finally, he brought out his combat knife and started to ~~wOrk~~ out the chunks of gore from the serrated edges. The squelches and rips were the only sound in the dim corridor. Except, somewhere behind him, Harjek caught the telltale scratch of blade being unsheathed. As he span to face the sound, something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling.		As he moved through the ship, he switched his bolter for his bolt pistol, letting the rifle hang in the strap around his torso. In the middle of the fray, he had been forced to resort to some unconventional tactics. Like ramming his bolter into a large Ork’s mouth and pulling the trigger again and again. Well, perhaps it had been somewhat voluntary. His eyes still flickering across the wreckage of the corridor, his hands reloaded the pistol before holstering it. Finally, he brought out his combat knife and started to wprk out the chunks of gore from the serrated edges. The squelches and rips were the only sound in the dim corridor. Except, somewhere behind him, Harjek caught the telltale scratch of blade being unsheathed. As he span to face the sound, something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling.

	The creature, and from its stench he knew it to be an Ork, wrapped one arm around his neck. Harjek heard the skitter of a weapon tearing down his ceramite armour, but the Ork hadn’t got the space to stab hard enough to penetrate it. With a roar, Harjek thrust his torso down while yanking the arm aggressively. The greenskin yelped as it flew over his shoulders and slammed into the floor. Heavy as it was, the Ork was fast. It was already rolling to one side when Harjek’s knife slammed into the deck where its head had been. Before he could make another pass, the creature was on its feet and facing him. It wasn’t much bigger than most of the Orks he had fought, but it had lean muscle and scar tissue in place of bulk. Its skin was a darker green and looked thicker. In its hand was a long knife, half again as long as Harjek’s. Most Orks held their weapons high, the better to hack and bash with. This Ork had his knees bent, his mass low and the knife held in front of him in a cautious position. Its small, dark eyes were constantly flicking across Harjek’s body, evaluating his stance and armour. Across one side of its face was a streak of peeling blue paint, some of it splattered onto the long fangs that sprouted from its mouth. This was a different sort of Ork to the ones Harjek had fought before in his life.		The creature, and from its stench he knew it to be an Ork, wrapped one arm around his neck. Harjek heard the skitter of a weapon tearing down his ceramite armour, but the Ork hadn’t got the space to stab hard enough to penetrate it. With a roar, Harjek thrust his torso down while yanking the arm aggressively. The greenskin yelped as it flew over his shoulders and slammed into the floor. Heavy as it was, the Ork was fast. It was already rolling to one side when Harjek’s knife slammed into the deck where its head had been. Before he could make another pass, the creature was on its feet and facing him. It wasn’t much bigger than most of the Orks he had fought, but it had lean muscle and scar tissue in place of bulk. Its skin was a darker green and looked thicker. In its hand was a long knife, half again as long as Harjek’s. Most Orks held their weapons high, the better to hack and bash with. This Ork had his knees bent, his mass low and the knife held in front of him in a cautious position. Its small, dark eyes were constantly flicking across Harjek’s body, evaluating his stance and armour. Across one side of its face was a streak of peeling blue paint, some of it splattered onto the long fangs that sprouted from its mouth. This was a different sort of Ork to the ones Harjek had fought before in his life.

104.220.162.108 at 06:14, 28 July 2022

2022-07-28T06:14:42Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:14, 28 July 2022
Line 37:		Line 37:
	Delmore slapped his shoulder guard as he walked past. “Get your head out of the clouds Harjek, there’s greenskins to slay. If we want to be the next Nymars, we’d better acquit ourselves well in his presence, don’t you think?” Harjek once again had to suppress a grin under his helmet. Some things never change.		Delmore slapped his shoulder guard as he walked past. “Get your head out of the clouds Harjek, there’s greenskins to slay. If we want to be the next Nymars, we’d better acquit ourselves well in his presence, don’t you think?” Harjek once again had to suppress a grin under his helmet. Some things never change.

	===See Also===		==See Also==
	{{Template: ListStarKrakChro}}		{{Template: ListStarKrakChro}}

	[[Category: Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer_40,000]]		[[Category: Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer_40,000]]

104.220.162.108 at 06:02, 28 July 2022

2022-07-28T06:02:25Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:02, 28 July 2022
Line 36:		Line 36:

	Delmore slapped his shoulder guard as he walked past. “Get your head out of the clouds Harjek, there’s greenskins to slay. If we want to be the next Nymars, we’d better acquit ourselves well in his presence, don’t you think?” Harjek once again had to suppress a grin under his helmet. Some things never change.		Delmore slapped his shoulder guard as he walked past. “Get your head out of the clouds Harjek, there’s greenskins to slay. If we want to be the next Nymars, we’d better acquit ourselves well in his presence, don’t you think?” Harjek once again had to suppress a grin under his helmet. Some things never change.

			===See Also===
			{{Template: ListStarKrakChro}}

	[[Category: Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer_40,000]]		[[Category: Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer_40,000]]

104.220.162.108: /* Black Fist Boarding */

2021-05-11T11:51:20Z

Black Fist Boarding

← Older revision		Revision as of 11:51, 11 May 2021
Line 3:		Line 3:
	As his fist smashed into the greenskin’s brutish jaw, Harjek was already spinning away. The snarl toothed combat knife in his other hand followed the motion of his twist, slashing open an opponent’s face. He felt someone trying to grasp his shoulder pad, and executed a hammering reversal. The move shattered the Ork’s arm at the elbow and sent him stumbling away. Following him, Harjek hacked an opening in the press and moved into an open area. A single practised movement brought his bolter to his hip, and a second later he let loose a devastating hail of bolts. It had been a text book manoeuvre, gathering them into one place before disengaging and shooting them down, and he allowed himself a small grin. He didn't smile too hard, in case he was caught. If his squad mates found him grinning like skull in the middle of a battle field, he’s never hear the end of it. Instead, he surveyed the ship corridor. It reminded him of the interior of his own ship, its architecture and origin clearly imperial. The cracked walls and chunks of rock were absent on ''The Trident'' however, as were the dead Orks. Perhaps this had once been a loyal imperial vessel, before being consigned to its current, ignominious fate. Doomed to shuttle filthy greenskins from one mad battle to the next, pausing only to be tossed through the warp without the benefit of Gellar fields. Harjek had never been one to closely observe the rituals and beliefs of the tech priests, but the predicament of this ship touched him.		As his fist smashed into the greenskin’s brutish jaw, Harjek was already spinning away. The snarl toothed combat knife in his other hand followed the motion of his twist, slashing open an opponent’s face. He felt someone trying to grasp his shoulder pad, and executed a hammering reversal. The move shattered the Ork’s arm at the elbow and sent him stumbling away. Following him, Harjek hacked an opening in the press and moved into an open area. A single practised movement brought his bolter to his hip, and a second later he let loose a devastating hail of bolts. It had been a text book manoeuvre, gathering them into one place before disengaging and shooting them down, and he allowed himself a small grin. He didn't smile too hard, in case he was caught. If his squad mates found him grinning like skull in the middle of a battle field, he’s never hear the end of it. Instead, he surveyed the ship corridor. It reminded him of the interior of his own ship, its architecture and origin clearly imperial. The cracked walls and chunks of rock were absent on ''The Trident'' however, as were the dead Orks. Perhaps this had once been a loyal imperial vessel, before being consigned to its current, ignominious fate. Doomed to shuttle filthy greenskins from one mad battle to the next, pausing only to be tossed through the warp without the benefit of Gellar fields. Harjek had never been one to closely observe the rituals and beliefs of the tech priests, but the predicament of this ship touched him.

	With a grunt, he dismissed such foolish sentiment. Now was the time for battle and blood, not idle wonderings. He replaced the magazine in his bolter and moved carefully down the corridor. Orks substitute cunning and guile for actual intelligence, but were no less deadly ~~before~~ it. He and his squad had split up to get a detailed idea of this part of the enemy ship’s interior. The design, while bearing some passing aesthetic resemblance, was too different to their own ship for any assumptions to be made. It was vital for detailed layout of the ship be available to the command before they launched the full assault. Harjek’s squad, Black Fist first tactical squad, had been given the honour of first blood. After breaching, they had massacred the confused Orks in the area before splitting up to begin reconnaissance. Having committed the layout of the interlocking corridors for his assigned area, Harjek now made his way back to breaching area. There was a wager on to see who would be last back, and he was determined not to let it be him.		With a grunt, he dismissed such foolish sentiment. Now was the time for battle and blood, not idle wonderings. He replaced the magazine in his bolter and moved carefully down the corridor. Orks substitute cunning and guile for actual intelligence, but were no less deadly for it. He and his squad had split up to get a detailed idea of this part of the enemy ship’s interior. The design, while bearing some passing aesthetic resemblance, was too different to their own ship for any assumptions to be made. It was vital for detailed layout of the ship be available to the command before they launched the full assault. Harjek’s squad, Black Fist first tactical squad, had been given the honour of first blood. After breaching, they had massacred the confused Orks in the area before splitting up to begin reconnaissance. Having committed the layout of the interlocking corridors for his assigned area, Harjek now made his way back to breaching area. There was a wager on to see who would be last back, and he was determined not to let it be him.

	As he moved through the ship, he switched his bolter for his bolt pistol, letting the rifle hang in the strap around his torso. In the middle of the fray, he had been forced to resort to some unconventional tactics. Like ramming his bolter into a large Ork’s mouth and pulling the trigger again and again. Well, perhaps it had been somewhat voluntary. His eyes still flickering across the wreckage of the corridor, his hands reloaded the pistol before holstering it. Finally, he brought out his combat knife and started to wOrk out the chunks of gore from the serrated edges. The squelches and rips were the only sound in the dim corridor. Except, somewhere behind him, Harjek caught the telltale scratch of blade being unsheathed. As he span to face the sound, something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling.		As he moved through the ship, he switched his bolter for his bolt pistol, letting the rifle hang in the strap around his torso. In the middle of the fray, he had been forced to resort to some unconventional tactics. Like ramming his bolter into a large Ork’s mouth and pulling the trigger again and again. Well, perhaps it had been somewhat voluntary. His eyes still flickering across the wreckage of the corridor, his hands reloaded the pistol before holstering it. Finally, he brought out his combat knife and started to wOrk out the chunks of gore from the serrated edges. The squelches and rips were the only sound in the dim corridor. Except, somewhere behind him, Harjek caught the telltale scratch of blade being unsheathed. As he span to face the sound, something slammed into his back and sent him stumbling.

1d4chan>Hiddenkrypt: categorizing

2015-06-19T15:46:11Z

categorizing

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:46, 19 June 2015
Line 36:		Line 36:

	Delmore slapped his shoulder guard as he walked past. “Get your head out of the clouds Harjek, there’s greenskins to slay. If we want to be the next Nymars, we’d better acquit ourselves well in his presence, don’t you think?” Harjek once again had to suppress a grin under his helmet. Some things never change.		Delmore slapped his shoulder guard as he walked past. “Get your head out of the clouds Harjek, there’s greenskins to slay. If we want to be the next Nymars, we’d better acquit ourselves well in his presence, don’t you think?” Harjek once again had to suppress a grin under his helmet. Some things never change.

			[[Category: Stories]][[Category:Stories/Warhammer_40,000]]

83.255.50.95 at 20:32, 23 October 2013

2013-10-23T20:32:31Z

Show changes