Join the men and women of the 23rd Pallasian Guard in their heroic struggle for victory against all odds.

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Crouching behind the burning remains of a Chimera troop carrier, Corporal Carson slammed a fresh powerpack into his lasrifle and threw a quick glance around the corner of the tank. Peering through the smoke, he could make out the muzzle flashes of six, no - seven, hiding behind a barricade further up the street.
Tucking his head back, he looked around at his fireteam, also crouching behind the Chimera. Shouting over the deafening din of las-rounds thumping into the tank and the stone buildings around them, he looked each of them in the eye as he spoke.
"Right lads, there's a whole load of 'em up there. We'll leapfrog our way up until we can stick a couple of grenades in there. Maclise and Stewart, set up the gimpy and start malleting them"
A series of grim nods signalled their understanding.
He silently counted down in his head - five, four, three, two, one...go!
He burst out from behind the wreck, and tore up the street with Askey and Macian in tow. Behind, Maclise and Stewart opened up with the heavy bolter, laying down a barrage of covering fire. While he was running, Carson frantically searched for cover - and quickly found it in the form of some fallen stonework from the destroyed building next to it. He slammed side on into the stone, once a grand pillar, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a gloved hand. Askey and Macian thudded into the masonry beside him.
This was once a grand avenue, with marvellous buildings and fascinating architecture. Indeed, it had once been the cultural centre of the city. Now, those grand symbols of pride lay smashed and in ruins - strewn over the streets as nothing more than rubble.
Carson heaved his rifle over the stonework, glanced through the sights and began pumping the trigger. The L1A1 pattern lasgun was quite different from the standard Cadian pattern, in that it stood over a metre long - nearly twice the length of the Cadian ones. It was semi-automatic only, but came close in terms of power to the realms of the sniper rifles. Not an ideal weapon for laying down a wall of fire with, but it had been proven time and again that a few well-placed shots were worth a thousand sprayed rounds. Regardless it worked, and the heads behind the barricade went down and stayed down. It was now a matter of taking the barricade - a grenade should do the trick. He scrambled through his webbing until his fingers grasped a grenade. In one smooth movement he pulled the pin, and lobbed it over the masonry. Subconsciously he held his breath, and waited.
There was an incredibly loud, hollow bang, and the firing stopped. Turning back towards the Chimera, he gestured for the other two to come up the street. Cautiously he stepped out from behind the cover, and advanced towards the barricade, his weapon levelled directly at it.
Behind it was a mess - the grenade had done its job. Behind the makeshift barricade, lay the mangled remains of several human forms. He couldn't tell how many there were, it was simply a tangled mass of amputated limbs and blood. Traitors, corrupted by the forces of Chaos. - sworn enemies of the Imperium.
Now it was a matter of carrying out their actual task - the destruction of this barricade, to allow supply convoys to reach their HQ.
Macian unslung his backpack and from it produced two explosive charges. He quickly but precisely set them as far beneath the tangled tank-traps as possible, before taking out the remote detonator. Standing at well over six foot tall, and powerfully built, he was renowned for his gentle spirit, and quiet professionalism.
"All set, boss!" he shouted in his thick New Queensland accent.
Carson nodded, and they ran back down the street, once again taking cover behind the Chimera. He heard a faint click as Macian pushed the detonator - and almost immediately felt the powerful shockwaves from the deafening, heavy explosion, which sent shards of metal flying in all directions, and lifted the barricade clear off the ground.
Tapping on his microbead communicator, he relayed back to the platoon commander, Sergeant Kemyss, that the barricade was cleared, and that the route was clear the HQ.
The other fireteam in his section, under Lance Corporal McIlroy, along with a convoy of several trucks, materialised down at the bottom of the street.
From there on it was relatively uneventful, a mile and a half's walk back to HQ, walking along beside the trucks. Ammunition, fuel, food and medical supplies - the contents of these trucks were of vital importance. The fact that there were more trucks than normal usually meant that trouble was to be expected...more than likely there would be a major offensive sooner or later. More likely it would be sooner.
They had achieved their mission, and not lost so much as a single man. That said, the idiots behind the barricade had been like fish in a barrel. It hadn't, and wouldn't always be like that.

Lieutenant Colonel Hawes stood in his darkened command centre, lit only by screens and desk lamps. He was hunched over a map of the city, contemplating his next move. They had taken over half of the city, but the enemy still held the fortress, and were dug in. In addition, he had trouble keeping supplies moving, due to the constant harassing actions fought by the renegades. There was only one way out - forward. He would have to take the fortress as soon as possible to drive them from the city. The 23rd Pallasian Regiment was fully committed to the fight, and he had support from a battlegroup of Ryzan armour. The success of the battle came down to this push, and, God-Emperor willing, the Imperial flag would once again be flying over the city within forty-eight hours.


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