Warhammer 40,000: The Penance of the Damned

Out of the frying pan and into the fire!

from the private journal of judge Ramirez.

After the ruffians under my command defeated the abominable behemoth that assaulted us through the glass wall, our group had no choice but to flee past it’s horrid carcass, pursued by the mercenaries on our tail. Beyond lay a corridor with other glass chambers like the one we emerged from. At the end, there lay a staircase leading up to what looked like a control room.

Our brief moment of hope was brought low as we opened the door at the top of the stairs and saw what awaited us inside! The single largest mutant I have ever laid my eyes upon, was standing at the cogitator terminal, apparently as surprised by us as we were by it. On pure instinct, the tech priest closed the door and then the lights went dark.

Situation dire as it was, I steeled myself with a prayer to the Emperor and decided to show the scum how a Metalican deals with an adversary.
-“Open the door on my mark, mechanicus. The rest of you, get ready to perforate the enemy of the Emperium that lies beyond! Now Arthur, now!!!”
In a sacred blaze of righteous gunfire, the fiend was brought down and the boot of the priest, as if guided by Omnissiah, ended it’s existence.

Safely hidden away from our pursuers by the blast doors of the control room, my now somewhat inspired underlings and I, got busy with formulating a plan for our escape. Mechanicus and Reclaimer took change of the control panel, while the rest took stock of their armaments, feeling another fight might be imminent.

-"We should release the gas on the pursuers! "
-“No, we should unleash the unholy monstrosities we saw on our way here in the other chambers!”
-“Quiet, both of you. These doors are thick enough that for once we can wait for the enemy to make a mistake, before swiftly bringing down the burning hammer of God-Emperor’s retribution!”

The pair of mercenaries that approached the door while we were planning, started blasting at it with their heavy-cal rifles, leaving us no choice but to come to a decision. Figuring that letting chaos spawn fight heretics was a right thing to do, I ordered the Reclaimer to praise the Omnissiah, so that the glass wall closest to the mercs would open, releasing foul mutant freaks upon our enemy.

After a short fight, that was too gruesome to be recounted here, one of the enemy troops was no more and the other has fled.

At the same time, the control panel informed us of an incoming call from deeper within the facility. Answering it without revealing our identities, proved as easy as staging a pict feeder. On screan, a bloated horror demanded to know what was our business in his domain. Lord Mundus offered for us to surrender to his forces and true enough, the hangar door at the end of the glass lined corridor opposite our own was raising and mutant riflemen were pouring out in ungodly numbers.

Having exhausted my options for resistance, like releasing the rest of the bloated terrors behind the glass, only for them to be mowed down by a torrent of bullets and gassing the corridor despite that my turncloack comrades were among the enemy ranks, I had nothing to do but allow myself to be captured, remembering the word of my drill sergeant Alvarez, that while it is martyrdom to die fighting enemies of the Emperium, a harder duty still is to live so that you will fight another day and triumph.

After being dragged before the embodiment of chaos whose minions have captured us, all of us save one, the scumbag calling himself Ricky Hard-Bop, who wormed his way into our captor’s confidence, were thrown into a jail cell, contains no small amount of other mutants, apparently despised even by their own vile kin.

A timely reveal that he had a bomb in his head on behalf of the Reclaimer, got us somewhat dubiously promoted to the rank of gladiators and after arming ourself with some primitive scraps, we were escorted into the arena, to fight against the terrifying Scraag monsters.

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