Crag wiped the silt from his eyes as he peered out into the marsh. Below him and only about 30 yards away, was a small Imperial scout party. Taking water samples as well as vegitable and capturing any life forms.
Crag's meaty trigger finger begins to pull back on it's bolter and shots begin to ring out to his targets below. His fellow breathern also raise up behind him and begin to poor their fire unto the unsuspecting casualties below.
The last scout falls face first and Crag singles his breathern below to loot the corpses. Taking guns as well as instruments to bring back to their Warboss. To make him happy. To promote him.
Crag wipes the silt from his face and smiles.
"It's good thing weez better dem them."
and leads his commerades back into the marsh.........
[i][center]to be continued.....