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10/11/2015 11:23:00 PM
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[b]as a Hormagaunt was closing in for Python's throat, it violently combusted into the air.[/b]
[i]-Clank!--Clank!--Clank!-[/i]
[b]the loud noises of the Centurion armor walking out of the crashed ship could be heard over the screeching and squealing of the Tyranids. The suit was about as tall as Python, painted entirely in black, except fot the silver Inquisitorial sigil in the center of his chest. A banner sprung on top of the hurricane bolters lodged into his chest, it read [i]Imperator protegit.[/i][/b]
[i]vrrrr!--[b]DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA!!!!!"[/b][/i]
[b]the rows of heavy machine guns opened fire on the walls of creatures, raining a torrential storm of Hellfire bolts upon them, leaving a trail of smoldering acid on their corpses. His underneath his hands were huge Siege drills that spinned and crushed anything that came too close to him. And underneath his arms were heavy flamers, spewing forth pillars of flames upon the foul aliens, turning their ranks to smoldering ashes.[/b]
English
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[spoiler]<.< >.> Nothin....[/spoiler] "Some nice armor. Where'd you get it?"
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[i]"I got it after spending years working for the Imperium. After the proper training, on how to handle such a machine, I was assigned one by the Deathwatch."[/i]
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"Cool."
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[b]he remains sitting down.[/b]
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He sighes, throwing the rest of the cigar away. He checks his pistol and loads it.
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[i]"Tomorrow we'll head back out. We'll have to be silent."[/i]
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He nods and drifts off into sleep. [spoiler]Skipping ahead[/spoiler] Python wakes, looking around.
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[i]"Time to go. Get up."[/i] [b]he boards his Centurion armor.[/b]
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Python stands, grabbing his pistol from next to him. He looks at the wall. "How do we get out without making a noise?"
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[b]He shoves his siege drills into the collapsed entrance, breaking it open as the sunlight pierces through the entrance.[/b] [i]"there we are."[/i]
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"Fair enough." He steps out, aiming his pistol around.
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[b]there was nothing. Just sand and rocks.[/b]
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He sighes, trying comms. "Ryan. You there? I need a ride."
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[Plot was scrapped. Carry on.]
