⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙽𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚗 ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀kníght ✟ pílσt ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪɴ ᴘʟᴀɢᴜᴇ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ ᴇɪsᴇɴғᴀᴜsᴛ ⠀⠀

Blowing confetti. Literally everywhere.

-hindering the ork machine: no missile launcher positions in sight, no one to relay him the entire layout of the defensive line. Just him and the vox device, checking in on it between scanning his post.

was held for the time being, tucking himself in the corner to protect the command post all by his lonesome, frantically eyeing both exits with the small windows overlooking the battlefield. Only the closing in howling of the machinery stopped him from his initial plan of-

vulnerability, over! The command is massa--." The troop stopped in his tracks, reaching for the racks to bring something heavier. Only the flamer came to mind, tucked away as emergency even with a promethium canister looking quite fragile. Instead of abandoning post, the thought

"PRESENCE CONFIRMED!!! 15 kilometers away and approaching!" It rang from the top of his lungs as the line was still getting fed the constant stream of greenskins, some even showing as tiny green dots next to the walking machine. "Severe right leg, ankle region structure-

-falling down in their surprise attack. The time was slowly ticking out with the trenches getting breached. Assessing the alive personnel, the former lord rummaged through the captain's gear for ammunition, popped a new mag in and went looking for the vox box frantically.

-what was left of the commanding staff with quick reactions and heavy deafening blasts recoiling even harder in the shooting hand. The lack of practice was wearing the hand out with powerful, wrist-twisting jerks. The backing off ended in hitting a wall and lifeless green-

-shoota, giving a trifecta: shoulder, neck - a grazing shot, and right to the head. With his human shield still on and slowly dragging him to the ground. The quick assessment left August abandoning the lifeless body to slide to the side as the bullets went flying, salvaging-

By the time the splat hit the face, August was already in the coat of his officer and his shiny bolt pistol to pluck right out of the dead man's belt, having whipped it under the armpit. Rapid rabid tapping at the trigger, raining fire supreme onto the damned bastard with the-

// - How much scattershot do you want? - Yes.

ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠThe time will tell what her mind will make of him. And his war-chiseled mind.

ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠBravado has nothing to do with efficient war. ᅠᅠᅠᅠHer bestowing a medal is a sight to look forward do. Do not prick it too hard.

ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠAs long as his efforts do not grow big enough to overshadow hers. ᅠᅠᅠᅠ

ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠAnd she will reap the fruits of it, more or less. ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠBest not be earning a name and fame among her people.

Another day of smelling oil, lasguns and war. Courtesy of @TheIronRoseHeir

-fall! Eight hits. Simultaneously. Timed. It'll melt. It'll fall!"

-breath the 'lordling' broke into a command post after a three minute kilometer run through the trenches. "These bastards don't know how to build these things. The right leg is a mess of damaged plasteel sheets. Space above the right ankle. Thin enough to make that shitbox-hooo-

-- The dirt-coated lord got his sweet time making short dashes between the defensive positions, seeking anyone of command, holding onto the damned binoculars and not his buried rifle. Looking almost manic, his entire apparel holding a layer of dirt. "Commander, sir!" Catching-

With a body still warm but lifeless, the trooper plucked himself a binocular instead, done wasting charges into a suppression fire. The barbaric contraption barely walked, overloaded with its firepower in the top, the tiny feet of scrap did all the job of carrying it through. --

A literal grunt. That would never fit him for long, not with a knick for a good fight. ----------- The laser show of tracers and pulsing rays kept raining on the ground, the airspace was empty too, but the giants that cast shadow took all the space of the horizon. -