Jamesyco

Warhammer 30K: The Returning Son

Vigilian - First Primarch

Vigilian

Titles

Winged One, Angel, Mountain Knight, The First

Homeworld

Angelicus Montibus
A continental Garden world similar to ancient Terra, with several beautiful continents and lush greenery, it would be a paradise for any who encountered it. Beautiful ornate cities and settlements dot the land, with stone-paved roads winding through forests and fields. There are two major deserts near the equator, four major oceans within the continents, and two polar caps filled with snow. There are three major cities, Argos, Veleps, and Sanitorii, with countless others dotting the world. It is currently in the Iron Age, but trade and communication are easy between settlements.

Personality

Sangine, Calm, Honorable, Hopeful

Estimated Psyker Level

Beta

Skills

Diplomat - While one of War, diplomacy can create a grander thing
Mountainous - His size and strength are immense, he towers over his brothers, most without even his wings
Winged - Mostly for Show, he has several sets of wings that regrow quickly, he often has only the functional pair 'unplucked'
Resilient - Known for taking damage, and healing quickly (he's a tank)

Equipment

Tenebrous - Longsword Crafted on his Homeworld to fit his size
Excubiae - A set of chainmail and plates to cover his torso, while leaving his wings free.

Background

Born in the Sanctorum Catacylsma, or where it was built, the pod of the Vigilian was opened by a war party of a local rebellious Count know as Argyle. His small host had recently been defeated, but near the end of the battle, he survived when a shooting star flew over both armies, causing both sides to flee in terror. Argyle had managed to escape along with a hundred of his cavalry, leaving the rest to wander home on their own. The hundred and one made their way to the burning field in which the star landed, for they saw it as a good omen due to their survival.

When they arrived, they found a crying winged boy in a metal tomb and freed him. Taking the boy, they returned home and showed the boy to a local; a priest had taken note of the wings and professed the child a demi-god and a sign that the gods had blessed the Count with a divine protector, should the protector live to a fighting age, but once the protector turned to the age of the count, he would rule the world. With that omen, there was some distrust, but the count adopted the winged child, naming him Vigilian.

The boy in his youth was treated well, and fair, while his natural born siblings had grown little in several years, by the time he was considered five, he was almost the size of a grown man. He was able to fight, engage in academics, and learn through basic means, in combat he could easily take several men at once, even if bare-handed. By the time he was ten, he was far above any man, and likely four times the weight, his wings at full span could cast shadows over buildings, and when flying he was as fast as hawks and eagles. Few dared to fight him, typically those who sought to fight monsters, believing him some dark omen for the world, only to be swayed by velvet words, music, or dance. His adopted father however still believed in the omen, and would make it become so. He knew his son would protect him, but he knew that he must kill him as well. He believed the boy aged faster, so during his campaign, when he was about to defeat the king the night before, he poured poison into drinks and marinated food in even more to try and get rid of this godly creation. It did not work, but luckily the young man did not notice, or so he thought, until he died that night of poisoning, believed to be from enemy spies, when in reality, he drank from the same pitcher his son had earlier that evening.

Distraught with the death of his adopted father and also realizing that his father was trying to assassinate him, he took hold of the army and became king, then Emperor of the World. While many would believe he would retaliate, he refused to do so, instead caring and enjoying his adopted family, making sure they were well taken care of. His mother would last until the Emperor came, and to this day, because of rejuvenation treatments of the Empire through the Stars.

While much of his life, he was the largest, and most godly power, his true father, he felt insignificant besides. He was nothing to the Emperor of mankind, nothing but a son, his father he had know for all of minutes, he felt as if he a life time was shared between them, and care was given to him. He had a purpose, he was a statesman, a diplomat, and a warrior, he knew how to run an Empire, now it was time to create one in the stars. His world had a feast of traditional foods, his legion one of the largest, was strong and full of healthy warriors ready to be reinforced with new recruits from warrior culture homeworld. He did object to his world becoming some mechanics graveyard of machinery, and instead fought for his planet's surface to be minimally reworked. Instead, stations and satellites in the sky would contain the bulk of the newer technology compared to the traditions of the surface, though the gods were eventually replaced with heroes, and while technology did flourish, it was kept minimal to preserve heritage and strength within the youth of the world.

Now in the Stars, he grew to be beloved, honorable, uplifting anyone in his presence, almost as if words from his mouth could turn someone to gold. He could bring peace to a system through strength of arms, or through velvet words and speeches. The mechanicus, while not at odds with him, did see their relationship strain as instead of efficiency he prioritized the worlds themselves in sustainable manners, instead of mass constructs, and the like, a preference for orbital stations and factories. When fighting, he takes no love in war against other humans, but sometimes finds it necessary, however, he does find enjoyment when fighting xenos such as the Orks.

Legio I - Knights Angels CS

Knights Angels

Number

I

Domains

Heavy Infantry, Naval Supremecy, Overwelmning Numbers

Legion Appearance

Primarily White, with Red highlights of the shoulder pads, helmets, and knees, black outlines.

Combat Doctrine

Heavy Close Range Infantry, Naval Supremicy and Blocade, Imperial Army Support.

Legion Organization

Legion size, 160,000 legionarries.
Infantry Companies Comprised of 10,000 Legionarries, and supporting platoons.
Mechanicized Companies Consisting 6,000 legionarries, a hundred platoons of mechanized vehicles, ten tank platoons, and supporting platoons.

Armored Companies Consist of 6,000 Heavy legionarries, one Hundred tank platoons, ten heavy tank platoons, fifty mechanized tank platoons, and supporting axillary platoons.
Legion Special Units

Winged Guard - 100 Strong group of Heavy Infantry, typically all are in some form of terminator armor, with storm bolters, power swords, and storm shields.

Legion Equipment

Primarily Mark II and III power armors, a favorability to mix and match between the two. Standard imperial weaponry.

Legion Vehicles

Most Imperial Astartes Vehicles, preference towards older but upgraded equipment.

Legion Fleet

One of the largest astartes fleet, fleets have heavily optimized approaches supporting generalist and carrier ships. Good all-around fleets meant to fight long attrition battles and possibly wars. Boarding through teleportariums are widespread tactics of the legion.

Legion Relics

Hall of Heroes - A hall of previous Space marines who had perished there are few items, from broken armor pieces to weapons are stored there. There are few true unique items in the legion due to heavy use, if anything the battleship the Gloriana Class named Agememnon is one of the few Relics they hold dear.

Background

Formerly known as the Bloody Scythes during the Unification Wars, and before meeting their primarch, the legion has changed much from its initial time, always being a somewhat stable branch of gene-seed, the numbers of the legion flourished, and while known for their wrath, brutality, and strength, a calm demeanor lasted in the legion's temperament. When reunited with their gene-father, the legion flourished, and took on several new cultures to its mix, often having a company or several tied to one of the host worlds within the Beta-Garmon Star Cluster in Segmentum Solar, most being feudal, or frontier worlds, their temperament and unity grew. They are known for well regimented heavy infantry, and defensive tactics. They are also well known for crafts, art, and architecture, creativity is something that is almost staple between each, not to the effect of crafting full sets of masterwork armor, but where it will look exquisite.

Warhammer 30K: The Returning Son

Honestly a discord would be good.

Warhammer 30K: The Returning Son

Slightly interested, just meh with the primarchs of either gender, but def a 40k lore nerd if you're looking for a gm.

From Ashes We Rise: The Galaxy At Large

Belivahnn

Part Six

"My wings have grown physical, feathers and not fire. They feel whole, and I have no desire to feel anything but the calm and warmth they give. I teach the youth in school, and help scholars with their projects, while my creations create new ages with each one, I still enjoy the creativity of those around me even if they should fail, for they will rise and start a new. I have felt the stars staring at us for some time, one specifically I feel a voice calling to me, it knows my name though I do not know his. The Emperor, is what my dreams tell me, and all I see is fire. Not the fire which shines life upon a world, but one that burns civilizations to the ground. It is revolting, but at one point in time I saw it as nessessity. I may see it that way again. My Creator speaks to me, my dreams are like horrors to me now and I have not slept in a long time, and dread the moments when I do it to please others who worry for me. My dreams are why I do not sleep, for all that I love has turned to ashes." - Words of Feathers 1:1

---

It was almost a hundred years since he was born, the family he had known that had raised or been raised beside him had died. His brothers, children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren were all that were left in the world that were born to his name, except cousins scattered across the world and city; they are rarely seen by him. He stood atop the tower that he had talked to so many before with, His family, his mentor, priests, friends, the Eldari envoy. His eyes looked down at vast gardens he tended to with his family, and servants, these were the original plants given to him by they envoy, yet they had spread to the gardens of every cities rooftop. The tower he looked down upon from made the city look like a forest cut into sections by roads. It was beautiful to him, every single roof was covered by gardens, yet it was cold still, he enjoyed the cold, and although it had not snowed in close to forty years, he felt now that the residing anger in him had burned off, it may. It was that season once again, wyntr some had called it, it had almost gone out of vocabulary due to the lack of a cool season on the planet, yet, it was cool once again. He saw his breath in the air, and then he saw it, a speck that few could see but with his near godly body, he spotted it, a single flake of water frozen in a pattern drifted down through the air.

He was sad that his garden might be ruined, but also he was joyous snow had returned. He called for blankets to be placed over all of the cities planters, and over trees and vines to mitigate the damage of the cold. He knew it would not kill the plants directly, but would rid only of the work of growth for the weaker kinds.

Sometime later, he was in front of the palace, outside of the gates of the courtyard, as he looked up to where the speck would have fallen, yet no others had. He knew it was snow, he unlike many in the city knew what it looked like, few around would have been able to remember the last time it snowed, most were born after it, and those born before it were aging, some near the end of their lives. With the lack of a continuation he returned to his natural day, but he felt like his orders would come to fruition. The cold was a problem.

---

Throughout the day, and night all he heard was rain, the temperature had dropped significantly, it was bonechilling to many, few had ever felt it get this cold, and while the rains were terrible, the wind that rushed through the city reached the bone. The clothing most wore was year round, it never got cooler than around fifty degrees Fahrenheit, this was dropping below freezing, and continuing to get cold faster, and faster. Frost, and ice had already began to form on the stone roadways, and rooftops creating frozen pool on rooftops where the drainage ports were frozen shut not allowing water to escape.

It was a disaster, the sewage drains that ran underneath the roads, and portions of the buildings were overflowing, and beginning to freeze, the rivers had swelled and the canals were as well. Flooding was already an issue outside of the city, but when the river ran backwards with a black substance, the city was called to alarm. People braved the now flooding streets to try and make it to the palace, once known as the citadel. Most did as they used the upper walkways to arrive, or what was once the outer walls, which were now essentially walking highways for the city, but those who used the streets it was different, many who used the streets froze, or were drown in the icy water that flushed towards the outside of the city. Later he would learn almost two thousand people, mostly in the trading section of the city would have died due to the flooding.

The citdael was build to house the entire city twice over, since it was build, the city was almost three times as big as it was originally made. The cellars, and even his bedroom were used to house people. Though his concern was not of the rain, it was of the water that crept forward from the black river. It was like the blight that had come before his birth, the one that created the formation of nomadic peoples that spread across the plains of the northern part of the planet.

He stood near the gate, and had his guards pressed at every entrance; there were not enough guards, there was not a need for them, there were no invasions, there was little crime, and the biggest threat was a rabid animal on the streets, or a drunkard, which one of the twelve men in his guard could handle alone. There was no creatures of night anymore, no need for an army, those distant cousins allowed for peaceful interactions of the entire world, and their families spread through all of the other families until the ruling class felt some familial bond with him regardless of what part of the world they were on. But the thirteen of them were not enough, he called one of his nephews over, his brothers oldest son, a fine man in his late thirties.

"Otto, get as many strong men, look for laborers and such and open the armories to them. Get at least ten men per main entrance, and have all of the others sealed off. The elden times have returned, the cursed land is back."

The man would obey, but he stared out of the gate at what looked like a shadow. It stared back at him, he saw snow behind him in its pure form, and it fell gently, in front of him all he saw was the icy rain of a tempest storm. The creature in front of him mimmicced him, and took a form similar to his, winged and massive. There was a singular blue eye that awakened inside the head of the other shadow.

"There are many things in the galaxy that will try to sway you, but I will be the only one to not lie, you will always live in servitude, but there is one path to freedom, but you must make it for yourself." the shadow said, "spare your people the destruction of the anathema, he will cloud your skies with industrial waste, and see your people enslaved in metal cities to fuel an endless war."

He knew not to speak to the creature, he knew it was false to this world, that it was one of the creatures that he thought was long dead. He knew it was weak. Before he could do anything, the shadow had disappeared, and the rain had stopped for snow began to replace it. He felt it's presence, but he knew that it could not return, it was not strong enough, and he would make sure it could not.

Priests were used to ward the city, runes were placed on every building, and every wall. The guard was rebuilt, and training began, he even started the roaming bands of knightly priests to travel the world, and that each settlement should have at least five men to protect the town, one of which should be a knight priest. He would make sure that this world was safe from the darkness once again.

---

With winter once again upon the world, he smiled, and stared at the snow. The school yard near the palace was filled with laughter, and although he had been there the day prior, he was happy that the children could see snow once again. It had been three weeks since the snow had first fallen, although it had gotten warmer, it snowed once again, and people were not afraid of the cold anymore.

The envoy had returned the night prior, Yrued had returned, and although the eldari were far more skittish than before, it was a good thing they had returned. He had mentioned something trying to tempt him, and he was given praise and insight, that it was one of the things in the dark, something of darkness, that it would come in many forms. He also when in private with Yrued mentioned his dreams, while she was not a farseer, she did not have much knowledge, but mentioned that some can see the future in their dreams. It was not precognition, or divination, but just memories of a far future that is unlikely to happen. He did find that he enjoyed the female eldari's company, while it was not because of her sex, compared to many of his own people, she had some intellect to her. He loved his people, and those who he walked among, but he did feel a disconnect, even from those whom had taken him in. This being from the outside gave him a sense of adventure, and hope to see the stars, it was a place he had not expected himself to enjoy, an outsider. She was an outsider, but she did have a mind that while it was still a fraction was comparable to most of his peers.

When the envoys left again, he knew it would be for the last time, but his friend did stay this time to help guide him into a peaceful life in the future, though she stayed hidden away in the upper reaches of the tower unless she was well disguised.

Tales From the Realm of Laelilon

@WhiteAngel25 No worries, take your time.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Tiny Nord

Icarus

Oliver had been a bit of a back man in this, from the infiltration to getting onboard the blimp, and seeing everything in front of him. He slowly packed up behind them, and just sighed, fitting the panel back into it's spot. At this moment, he almost wished he had his heavier set of armor, it was meant to drop out of stuff and land, well, land once. It was an entirely other set to reload it to drop.

His rifle aimed high, he thought for a moment, and stared, hydrogen, weren't they filled with hydrogen, it's a blimp. He was having an archer moment then, for it was likely filled in inert helium instead. Unless if some mad man wanted to replay out the Hindenburg. Oliver shrugged to himself; after all, that was a stupid thought; hell, there was probably hot-ass computers onboard, and with electricity, and hydrogen would be some kinda fucked up, up there. He stared up and around, then down at the vent, then sighed for a moment.

"So question, this pressurized environment, do we know what kind of mixture it has, and do different compartments have different mixtures, specially those around the servers and special storage units?" he said in a low whisper, "also, what are we doing about those in front of us?"

Outside of his set of armor, Oliver didn't think like a tank; he thought like a person with some pretty heavy personal armor on, and a bunch of extra equipment that he felt extremely unneeded at that moment, he just trained his sights down towards where voices could be heard, placing the green triangle about a half inch from the break in his vision from where the voices were heard, then slowly pushed his torso and rifle flush with what he was behind to possibly get eyesight without exposing too much of his own torso.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Tiny Nord

Armory

The man stared at the wreck of a suit he had. He saw where most of the joints were some kinda fucked, some had fused together, he saw the welds in the armor where they cut him out of the suit. He sighed as he looked at the thinner internal plates, and musculature of it, he saw that there was a compilation of boxes around it from where parts were being taken from to help fix the suit, but he knew it would be out for a while. He could have dropped in with the lighter inside portion if the internals weren't all kind of something fucked.

Finally, he headed towards his kit table, light, can go in the air. He was ex-military; he had dropped from a perfect plane before. This should be easy to kit for he thought. He opened the lock box and shoved stuff out of it faster than a man with a shovel could dig a hole. He rested himself out a bit and stared down at an AVS kit plate carrier with a red cross patch, blood type marker, and name patch. He smiled at it, he had worn that woodland camo through several desert countries, and it still had spray paint on parts of it. He lifted it up, slapped it a few times to get the dust that was caked on it off, and slipped it onto a table. He pulled out the side bag with the big red cross on it, and pressed his lips together as he went through it. He needed darker colors: brown, two greens, and black; that's what he probably needed. Iceland, right? That's the place with the trees; Greenland was the place with the ice, wait, Newfoundland, wasn't that just Greenland but Canada. Definately the medkit, a bunch of people used to standing in fire now without most of their armor. He'll he's pretty much naked compared to the other heavies, and he stands in front of anything, even tanks or assholes with railguns willingly. Now, he will have to curb that, no stealth, thermal suits, that's a bit of bulk. He would probably wear something over the AVS and thermal suit for some form of extra protection from both weather, and also prying eyes.

Well if they are going in heavy, without the heavy, maybe something else was in store, he thought, camo net would probably be a good cover, but kit wise what would he bring.

Rifle, classic M4A1, sleek kit, ir and vis top laser set up in front of a acog, canter on the right for quick swap, just like the old days. Right hip and high he had his shotgun strapped close and slung, two straps, one with five slugs, and five breeching shells, the rest on both of them were flechette and sabot slugs. Right hip, revolver, left hip, five-seven.

Pants, a dark woodland camo, shirt same, boots, black, avs, spray painted, helmet, dark colored with foliage net. He found another net that had whites on the outside and dark colors on the inside, so he could pick and choose which one he wanted based on whether there was snow or not, and he made sure it hung down past his knees like a great coat, just for nice 'stealth looks' also cause it's probably going to be cold, if not he was going to regret that choice, or just take it off. Satchel has medical supplies, a backpack with more medical supplies and his field surgery bag, and a few foldable stretchers.

He looked for it, and found a law, fire and forget style missile, and that was it, That was his kit for this. Oh, rope, harnesses, two knifes, tourniquet around his neck, jump pack, reserve pack, whatever the fuck that strap thing is. Fuck he had no hydraulics, he slipped his survival kit into his backpack, with wood axe, flint, steel, string, wire, wire cutters, tape. Anything else... He pressed his lips together, pulling out a spam can, putting several more mags into it for his M4, and a few more loads for his shotgun and Five-Seven. He shoved is head into his helmet, then pulled the coat and cover over himself, pulled his M4 into a sleeve, both for that camo effect, but also to keep it warm in the cold. He wish he still had his M&P 2.0 because he knew that worked well in cold environments. Well that was it, he was now set. Everything slung on where it needed to be, and well, he was ready to kick someones ass. Or at least, do something the old way, before these exosuits became a big thing, back when war was civilized, and not full of a bunch of metal machines, that weren't tanks, or planes, or armored vehicles. Ah hell, it was just war, well killing those people over there with whatever ya had. Right now, he felt naked, so naked and cold, he was used to wearing the heaviest stuff, but that needed repairs, and extra armor slapped onto it again. Hell, after he's done with just about anything it's just up armored to the next twelve degrees.

He relaxed his jump kit, and relaxed, "I swear to god if I wasn't hit harder than a fucking truck hitting a deer I could have worn you you sweet fucking annoying bitch." he said staring down at the metal scrap heap. "you are meant to fly." he said with air quotes, "like Buzz Lightyear, falling with style across the sky, built to be a rescue suit... with some teeth... able to save lives," he looked over to the side, "and take them." he whispered.

"Why did that... whoever the fuck in the mech have to use a rail gun, also... why did the sacred oils of the god, WD-40, not prevent you from breaking down after getting hit like that?!" Now he was just being dramatic, as if he was just broken up with by his first girlfriend. "I will be back, and after... I will get you what you need." man he really was struck in that last engagement, he is now talking to his suit. Ah, what could possibly happen with sending a guy who was in a hospital bed the day before into combat? Absolutely nothing when he is used to wearing the Soviet T-55 equivalent of a mech suit?

Tales From the Realm of Laelilon

I'd say keep going

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Tiny Nord

In the Air

The man had woken up abruptly inside a cot that kept him strapped down during take-off and landing, and turbulence. It was a odd place over time moment that he had been out, the bleeding had stopped, but he was still somewhat light headed from the blood loss. He saw an IV in his arm, and saw it hanging above him. He saw his arms weren't strapped, but his leg and torso had bandages lining his currently bare chest. He shifted around a bit, and felt that something wasn't right on his torso, but he felt that it had been handled for the most part, or at least set properly, and held in place. He was thankful forstimulants, but more important, he saw the tattered remains of his shield, and of his armored suit. He stared at the cylinder imprint in the shield's face. Then he saw the fractured plates of his suit, honestly it didn't do too much damage but to the mechanics and shock absorbers, it looks more like the damage from when the suit was taken off of him.

He was thankful that they were able to get it off him, if things shut down, then he knew how bitchy that suit could be to take off, or disassemble. He stared at it for a moment, then closed his eyes again, He slowly pulled the strap to his upper body, and sat up, he felt the ridged lining of a plastic body suit that covered his lower torso.

"Fuck, remind me to get one of those things... better than a fucking tank cannon." He slowly went back down after saying that before passing out once again, the small bout of adrenaline in him finally kicking it to his bodies drowsiness.

---

Camp Hannula : Infirmary

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When he reawoke several hours later, Oliver stared up at what seemed to be a medical ward of some sort. He looked around, seeing a few others in the room, he saw Skye, and she didn't seem to be in good shape, then again most of them didn't either in the room. He looked at his charting, two broken ribs, and a decent amount of blood loss, but that had been remedied for the most part. His armor was the next set of things. He slowly stared at the cot, he was no longer tied down, then again, he wasn't in a moving object anymore, or at least to his knowledge. There was the IV stand, which had a bag that was attached to his arm, he decided to move it to a rolling one so that he could move.

Oliver stared at the others in another part of the ward; most of them were armed, Skye looked hurt, and well, he didn't want to deal with this anymore. He already had the cast on to get his ribs fixed and was loaded up with stimulants and whatever else was thrown into him cocktail wise. He stared at that situation and slowly slid off his bed the other way. Then, slinking out of the ward in its entirety.

From there, he looked outside, deciding a gown was not enough to get fresh air, he turned and started looking for a place to get clothing, this again was foiled by a searing headache. He stumbled and moved towards the room with the armed guards, Skye, and a good portion of the people he knew.

"I thought she was doing alright; when did she get hit?" he asked, peering into the room outside the doorway, holding onto the IV rolling stand he was using as a walking implement. Then he questioned the tense armed guard if they were under attack again. Also, why were they so tense? I could use a butter knife to cut the air. I don't hear gunfire, so why are you all so jumpy-looking?" With this, he had a smile on his face, and if a man could look like a dog, he would look like the dumbest golden retriever possible in that moment.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Tiny Nord

Morocco

Tiny stared at what seemed light on the other side of his shield as he ducked under it and braced. Did it work no, he felt a small object likely the size of a can of peas hit, sadly it felt as if a fucking train hit, and he felt the force hit his shield. He felt the standing supports snap and the crater on the interior side as the impact caved in a decent part of the shield to explode as if a hesh shell had hit. His shoulder he felt give as that interior impact zone landed on his shoulder plate, and a sprawling of solid layered steel shatter against his helmet, shoulder, and left torso. The blast he felt shuttered him, the legs and balance of the entire structured frame of the shield, and heavy tumbled on one leg. His knee plate decided to come loose as it buckled back, and the shield pushed him back almost fifteen feet or so, tumbling the entire way as the shield bucked against his helmet, and landed in his chest place denting it in as it lifted up for a moment like a runner digging his heels into the ground. Instead, it was a metal shield digging into armor. He felt as if he was in a can himself now. Several tonnes of metal on him, mechanics whirring to try and offset the weight on him.

He had dealt with the shock before, and while he was a bit ruffled, he was angrier, and the Macgyver sensors someone put into his suit were mostly shot at this point, along with his communications. If someone was near, they would hear angry screaming, cursing, and the eventual insult. He was a tank; this thing hit harder than a tank; it was a railgun; while it wasn't meant for straight damage, it was meant to punch through armor, and thankfully, the shield took the brunt in fact it was still lodged in the shield, a solid chunk of metal pressed against it, but that shockwave gave him hell.

He rocked the shield off of him, and he stared at the backside of the shield; thankfully, his equipment wasn't too damaged, but the shield, but he lifted it up, sighing at the bottom, as he hefted on his shoulder favoring his right side, he looked around, and groaned gears whirring as they started to strip themselves, and his joint locks were giving as he chugged, and chugged forward towards where the fight was, mostly to retrieve his weapon and to draw fire.

"Someone finish that fucker off if he is still around here, confirm it for god sake, like break his spine or his legs at least so he can't use a suit again like I did with the damn northern Irishman. If anyone is listening... I swear to god, fucking jackass broke the rollers and the struts on my shield. I am pretty sure at least three of my ribs are broken; my left shoulder is shot, but... fuck, I am about out..."

At that moment, axe slowly going into it's mostly broken holder that could still barely hold, he dropped on his left knee as he dropped the shield locked on his left arm to just keep him covered, he saw blood on the outside of his helmet. He held his hand and his finger out under the small running of red as he slowly wrote on his chest, "If alive, no stim, only qclot, sal, left compartment." His eyes dimmed for a moment as he saw what looked to be a tunnel, and his head throbbed; he realized it was likely a concussion and another head injury, or several. At least one open wound, or internal, he didn't feel wetness on his face, it was coming from a higher point on the left side, he felt it in his beard, and hair, it was more compacted on the left side on his helmet. He could deal with that for a minute.

He stood up, and started moving as quickly as he could, he saw the trucks pull up, it was easier moving faster, the nice little bug in his knee got fixed out. The thing is time, and whatever wounds he suffered, he didn't expect a rail gun, just something like what the bigger guy had, but almost direct kinetic energy is the bane of his existence. A tank would have been easier, or just another outright brawl.

He felt tunnel-visioned as he kept moving, one target in sight, which was why there was constant pinging on the slow-moving object. Even some larger pings dinged him as he stared at the truck, and he slapped his shield down in the bed of one. Turning around and blindly firing where the pings came from, he just slumped forward, his weapon locked in his hand as his armor went to the quickest locks as his body slumped in different directions, his right arm locked at an angle, his knees were slightly bent and his torso contorted first back, and then straight as his head was locked forward close to his right shoulder, the left arm was resting a few inches above his lower abdomen as his suit looked like a contorted statue of a man in an uncomfortable pose.