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Snippet #2623672

located in Planet Arawath, a part of Only War: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment, one of the many universes on RPG.

Planet Arawath

Planet Arawath is a mining world within the Reike Expanse that has been under Ork assault for three years. Local regiments of the 319th Imperial Legionnaires, 420th Cannabisian Regiment, and 19th Reiker Defense Force are all engaged.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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Footnotes

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Derek opened his mouth to ask a question, but it died the same time as a grav chute on Grim’s side did. The slightly controlled descent turned back into a freefall.
“Grim, do something!” Derek yelled.
Pain flared from Grim’s side and he tried to ignore it. Stowing his Lascarbine, he noted their proximity to the ground and grabbed the offending mechanical part. His staff clattered against his side, reminding of its utter uselessness in this situation. Derek righted their spin, but the fear showing on his face.
“This isn’t how I want to die!”
Grim ignored him, and tore some metal off part of the chute. Sticking his hand into the thick of wires, he closed his eyes. His mouth moved, but no sound came. Their descent had slowed to a leisurely plummet.
“Enough chanting and fix the damn thing!” Anxiety tinged Derek’s voice.

Eyes snapping open, Grim stared straight at Derek. “Calm your mind, or I will land us.” The broken chute flared back to life, sparks popping from around Grim’s hand. His eyes narrowed, but said nothing as he removed his fingers.
Derek gulped, “How long will that last?”
“That,” Grim responded, “Will outlast us all. Now stop delaying us. We have Orks to kill.”
Derek sputtered for a moment, before curbing his response. Most of the squad had landed, or was landing. The longer they stayed in air, the greater the chances of something actually hitting them (again).
“Aim for Alpha.”
“Where’s Alpha?” A Stormboy screamed past, waving his chopper threateningly.
“Down.”
Another Stormboy blew past, firing his pistol and missing by a wide margin. “No shit it’s down, down where?” Red smoke caught Derek’s eye, a signal for support. Gritting his teeth, he aimed for what was surely a death trap.

Grim held on, trusting that the chute would work as intended. He wasn’t as sure about Derek’s piloting skill. They were starting their approach to the buildings now, and Derek was having a harder time avoiding enemy fire. Several explosions (Derek could only guess that the Stormboyz trailing them had finally gone kamikaze) sent shockwaves powerful enough to knock them towards the hole in the building he had been aiming away from.

The pair spun several times neatly into the hole the Commissar had kindly left behind. Derek hit the ground back first. The air was driven from his lungs by the combined weight of gravity and Grim. Unconsciousness drove the pain from his mind. Grim fared slightly better. Besides bumps and bruises, the wound in his side had opened up, bleeding a little. Untangling from Derek and removing the chute, he took notice of the room and its occupants.
The Commissar and three other Imperial Guardsmen were grouped near the other end of the room, near the exit. The Commissar looked worn out, and down an arm.

“Enginseer Grim and Operator Bottles reporting for battle.” Grim said, unstrapping his staff and leaning on it.