Amidst the squad leader's roar, loud enough to blow the trench's roof off, and his subsequent hands-on instruction and tearful recounting of past experiences, these noobs finally realized, belatedly, just how crucial the tactical guidelines on the forum were.
Watching these noobs finally shape up and no longer resemble a group of armed picnickers, the squad leader finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Just then, heavy footsteps, so weighty they made the ground tremble slightly, approached.
Two ogryn Players named Wojtek and Kowalski came from the other end of the trench, carrying a Tech-Priest in a long red robe. Kowalski was the first to speak in a booming voice: "Look what we found!"
"Alright, alright, hurry up and put me down!" The Adeptus Mechanicus Player struggled in mid-air. "Can't you see my ID above my head?!"
"Nonsense, of course we saw it," Kowalski replied matter-of-factly. "If we hadn't, we would have just shot you. Why would we bother bringing you here?"
"Hmph, I won't stoop to an ogryn's level." The Tech-Priest Player grumbled, straightened his robe after being put down, and then enthusiastically approached the group. "Good afternoon, guys. May I ask which one of you is your squad leader?"
"I am," Although also a Player, the squad leader instinctively remained vigilant. After all, uncalled-for friendliness usually meant mischief or theft.
"Good, good, good, I've long heard of your name." The Adeptus Mechanicus Player exchanged a perfunctory greeting, then scanned the position. "It seems your heavy firepower is a bit lacking? I only see heavy guns and grenade launchers."
"Standard issue, but these don't count towards our personal exp," the squad leader said. "Besides that, there's also a thermobaric bomb already buried beneath the position. But these are only enough to deal with gaunts and warriors.
If Exterminator Lycaeus or similar tyranids show up, we'll probably be minced meat."
Upon hearing this, the Adeptus Mechanicus Player smiled confidently: "Don't worry, now that I'm here, you absolutely won't suffer from a fear of insufficient firepower anymore."
No sooner had he spoken than the Adeptus Mechanicus Player suddenly pulled open his red robe. A jaw-dropping sight appeared—the inside of his red robe and his bionically augmented torso were densely covered with all sorts of plasma weapons! From plasma pistols to plasma cannons, and even some experimental models with unknown names, a rough count revealed at least a hundred of them! The eerie blue glow of the coils almost blinded everyone.
The squad leader's jaw dropped with a "click." He quickly, fumbling through his helmet, reattached his jaw.
"What do you mean? Why so much plasma?"
"Heh heh." The other party smirked proudly, pulled out a metal dog tag from his pocket, and showed the squad leader the special gear symbol on it.
"Ryza?" The squad leader's expression under his helmet changed slightly. "No wonder then, no wonder then…"
"Squad leader," a noobs beside him quietly asked, "What is Ryza?"
"A Forge World," the squad leader responded in a hushed voice. "It's full of mad scientists who are fanatically in love with plasma weapons. It's said that the number of Tech-Priests on Ryza who blow themselves up each year while trying to improve plasma technology is in the tens of thousands…"
"My goodness…" The other noobs instantly looked at the Adeptus Mechanicus Player with admiration.
"I alone contribute about one percent of Ryza's annual Tech-Priest death count," the Adeptus Mechanicus Player boasted proudly. "But precisely because of this, my innovations and understanding of plasma weapons are advancing at a speed far beyond that of a normal Tech-Priest.
Now, my research has entered the combat testing phase, and you are fortunate enough to be my first chosen subjects. I declare that your squad's weapons have been upgraded! Stop using those sissy flashlight lasguns; come and embrace a true energy weapon!"
The noobs immediately cheered, excitedly stepping forward and each picking a plasma weapon radiating a dangerous aura. Even the two ogryn Players came forward and took one.
But the squad leader remained still. He looked at the Adeptus Mechanicus Player and asked the question on his mind: "How do you manage to die a hundred times a year and still maintain your Tech-Priest status?"
"There's already a Player who has become a Magos named Archer," he said casually. "As soon as I die, I just go to him for the qualification assessment. Death only resets my physical body, not the knowledge in my brain, so I usually pass smoothly."
With that, the Adeptus Mechanicus Player scratched his metallic head casing with a troubled expression: "But this way I owe him favors, and I'm accumulating more and more favors. It's like, the more debts you have, the less you worry… Sigh, are you taking one or not? If not, I'm going to the next squad."
"Take it! Why wouldn't I take free plasma?" The squad leader immediately reached out and picked the largest-looking plasma gun with the thickest coils from the pile of "mobile armory." After all, in the brutal universe of Warhammer, big is good, and more is better.
Everyone contentedly swapped their old laser flashlights for brand new plasma weapons, tossing the former aside, and caressing the cold metal and eerie blue coils of their new guns with great affection.
After they finished taking their weapons, the Adeptus Mechanicus Player from Ryza re-closed his red robe, laden with deadly weapons, concealing the arsenal that could make anyone's heart stop. He glanced at his air analysis data and spoke in a synthesized voice: "Speaking of which, why is there a faint stench here? Has a body rotted somewhere?"
The squad leader froze for a moment, then quickly understood. He sharply turned to look at the other Players, his voice laced with an ominous premonition: "Did you… not throw the bodies from that last incident into the acid pit?"
The noobs exchanged glances, their eyes darting away, and finally all lowered their heads, like a flock of quails that had done something wrong. Not a single person spoke, but their silence said it all.
The squad leader knew he had guessed correctly, but he no longer had the energy to yell. He simply took a deep breath and waved his hand.
"Hurry up, throw them all into the acid pit. Tyranids' blood itself contains micro-organisms; if left alone, who knows what horrors will hatch. Something bad will happen. When you come back, I'll teach you how to open Antelope cans."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the previously somber atmosphere was instantly ignited.
"Long live the squad leader!"
"Oh oh oh! Can opening!"
"Hooray!"
The noobs erupted in thunderous cheers. They swarmed towards the corner of the trench, haphazardly lifting the few bodies that had already begun to stink, and marched grandly towards the acid disposal pit in the rear, humming an off-key march tune.