Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Krang, Mar 10, 2010.

  1. So It Begins.
    Location: The Guardian Base, Hangar, The E.I. Military base outside Pyong Yang

    Users: @Ramboing @SoleStride @Kurogane86 @Dakota K5


    The hangar was filled with the hustle and bustle of thousands of people moving around constantly, periodically interrupted by the sound of an intercom calling for one thing or another. The past week had flown by quickly, and little time had been left for anyone to do anything aside from train and prepare. When the time came, Deanta and the other teachers came to collect the E.I. members personally, before they left for the hangar they all stopped by the armory and picked up their weapons and equipment that had been fitted for them and prepared carefully.

    The conversations inside the hangar were hushed, quiet, and grim, not much was said, and what was talked about was usually questions of the future, what it would hold. Scenes of children seeing off their mothers and fathers with tears in their eyes were not uncommon, and the sound of crying was usually quickly hushed by those adults assigned to stay behind and care for the children.

    When the time came, a loud buzzer sounded throughout the hangar, and the soldiers grouped up into units, each forming in front of their commander. The E.I. were no different, this time, the teachers and soldiers assigned to the unit along with the E.I. members themselves formed in front of Otto. Otto had been briefed before hand, his unit would advance into the military compound ahead of the other units and push to take on Cal and Nicholas while the rest took the brunt of the fire and attention from enemy fire an units. Assigned to Otto were the most prestigious and skilled mages that the Guardians had to offer, twenty in total, plus thirty more highly trained and skilled men and women armed to the teeth for combat who were veterans of heated battles. Not only that, but every single one of them had volunteered for this mission too. Lucien made his appearance late, per usual, and stood off to the side out of formation. His usual suit was covered with a belt that held a sword on his back and knife across his chest, with two pistols holstered on his hips and spare mags for them at his sides. He smoked his usual cigarette and he was quiet, not saying anything to anyone.

    The second buzzer that came signaled the time for boarding the VTOL transports that had been provided, the vehicles themselves having been stolen from the hangars of many different E.I. locations over time. As the group boarded their vehicles, they were each supplied with a radio and a throat mic headset for communication, so that they didn't have to hold onto the radio to speak. The radio was placed on a pouch on their back, where it would be out of the way from interfering with movement and the like.

    The troops inside the vehicles were quite as they lifted into the air. A sense of finality spread through the cabins as they did and some found themselves praying and hoping that they would come back. Various rituals were performed by each soldier. The trip was finished in a matter of twelve hours, and fifteen minutes before the planes entered the combat zone, a red light flipped on in the cabin, indicating that the drop zone was coming up. Soldiers began to stir, making final checks over their gear before staring grimly at the floor and awaiting what was to come. Lucien, who had not smoked during the flight, took this moment to stand up.

    "Ladies, gentlemen, we are approaching the drop zone. Make peace with whatever divine power you believe in. What we do today many of us won't survive, you all were told that much before this, and you all volunteered anyway. Whatever happens today, just remember that our sacrifice will not be in vain. Stick to the plan, follow orders given by Otto and your commanders, and pray that it makes a difference. Good luck and god speed to you all."

    Lucien said nothing more, and he sat down, making sure to rack the slides on both his pistols to chamber a round in both, before sliding them back into their holsters. Ten minutes passed, then five, then a yellow light popped on, indicating thirty seconds, and the soldiers inside all of the other VTOLS readied to land. As the light went green, the cargo ramp opened and soldiers began to run and jump into the open air, where flak exploded all around them, shots from ground AA blowing up in an effort to kill the attackers who had appeared so suddenly. Nearby, a VTOL exploded and began to spiral out of control and towards the ground.

    As the E.I. members hit the ground, squads of E.I. troops, a good majority of them the North Korean trainees, begun to pour out of the main gate to the military base outside Pyong Yang. On the walls of the compound itself, machine gun fire from emplacements began raining down, and flashes of exploding grenades could be seen from the E.I. VTOL as the battle began. The E.I. VTOL was not among those that began the main assault though, it instead broke off and traveled a farther distance west, circling around the flak emplacements to land in a small clearing, where the group of sixty some odd troops disembarked and formed up on Otto, before traveling inwards towards the rear of the enemy base. As the force neared the walls they grew more tense, and as they approached the wall quietly, each and every one of them prepared for a fight, they were surprised by the quietness of the surrounding area, and the lack of resistance around the wall. Charges were placed in silence, and the wall was blasted open. Immediately they came under heavy fire, a small amount of debris was provided as cover and most of the group was forced to stay outside the wall by sustained heavy fire from the enemy. In fact, the only ones inside the compound was Tyler, Otto, Maine, and Daisuke, the rest were pinned down outside. Opposing them on three sides behind sandbagged positions were twenty soldiers, about twelve the well trained and disciplined clones while the other eight were North Koreans. The two of the Koreans were manning a Russian DShk heavy machine gun that fired a 12.7mm cartridge, a serious and very present threat. The rest were covering them with AK-47s and XM8's, alternating their fire so that only two men were firing at once to suppress the enemy, and waiting for the opposition to pop up to fire. A nearby soldier immediately hit an alarm, and shouted in something in Korean, before returning to covering the entrance.

    GM Post

    Christians barracks was shaken by a massive explosion and the sudden sounding of an alarm going off that indicated an attack. The sergeant stormed into the barracks and started shouting orders to get dressed and ready for combat in Korean, and the troops inside started scrambling to get dressed and prepared to fight. For the past week these men had trained for it, while Alkura and Christian took up an alternate regime and started working on martial and magical combat skills, honing Christian's physical and magical ability so that he was pretty decent in combat, and so that the average soldier would be no match for him. As he had predicted he had gotten his ass kicked, a lot, but he had improved. As Alkura and Christian were prepared, rather then assembling with the other troops, they were stopped by the Lieutenant, who spoke to them directly.

    "An order straight from Cal, he wants you two to go deal with a surprise assault on the rear of the base. We've got about twenty men there who've got the bastards pinned, but the majority of our forces have to be deployed to hold off the enemy on the western side. Get moving and reinforce those troops there and push the enemy out before they get reinforced."

    The Lieutenant said nothing more, but ran off towards the western side, the Korean troops and sergeant in tow after the shout of an order to follow from him. Alkura shrugged before looking at Christian and smiling, a crazed looking her eye.

    "Well? What are we waiting for? We get to go have fun finally!"

    She accompanied this sentence with her typical giggle, and ran off towards the fight with her sword and bow in hand. When she arrived, she set up besides the machine gun, which was firing at the enemy who were pinned down, and clipped her sword to her belt, before knocking an arrow and drawing back her bow, waiting for a target to appear.
  2. I LOVED IT!
  3. Thanks TK. That's a good feeling. I guess I could add more depravity.

    Where'd I put Belinda?
  4. The Adventures O' Commissar Asmodeus

    Right. People are probably swinging their fists in anger as I plague the cbox with multi-posts. So I'm putting what I was typing up in Wordpad when I wasn't pouncing upon people with flood responses to whatever they're saying.

    I don't get it, my font and color are soft, my grammar is impeccable, and misspellings aren't common. I even used the British spellings of "metre" "theatre" and "kilometre" even though Google Chrome underlines them in red and glares at me. :( So, I will edit this as it grows in Wordpad. Note that "Asmodeus" has been added to the dictionary so Google stops desecrating it with red underlines.


    We were ready for them. Or so we thought.

    An entire Regiment was lined up. Row upon row of Guardsmen, standing tall, las-rifles across their chests. Leman Russ stood in dug in positions, sandbags lined up to protect most of their space. Kasrkin crouched in dug trenches, Grenade launchers and hellguns ready to deliver death to the enemy. Heavy weapon's teams had set up autocannon and lascannon emplacements along the barricade line. Hydra's and Basilisk's lined up for bombardment. The Lord-General's Baneblade was parked in front of the city's gates, Devastator cannon lined up. Lightning fighters and Thunderbolt bombers swooped in formation, casting shadows over the dry desert landscape. A Imperial Guard regiment at full deployment.

    The sun was setting, the last rays casting a hellish light over the soon to be battlefield. Men squinted against the dwindling light, temporarily blinded.

    That was when they came.

    It wasn't anything sudden. As soon as the sun had set, the sky dimmed, like glow globes powering down. The men shifted uneasily, unsettled by the sudden night. That was nothing compared to what came next. Massive storm clouds began to congeal in the sky. At a rapid pace, ugly black smog crushed what little light there projected by the moons. Some of the men cried out in shock, followed by harsh responses from their respective officers. The crackle of thunder sounded in the distance. A light rain began to fall.

    A scream of horror rang out from somewhere near the front. He yelled something, and the other ranks began to yell in fear. Commissar Asmo raised his hellpistol and put a shot between the first man's eyes. The screams were dampened, but they did not cease.

    "It's...It's..ITS BLOOD!" The skies had opened in earnest, a literal blanket of crimson blood raining down on the Guardsmen. The ranks began to break up, the men taken over by fear. Shots rang out as Commissars executed the men for breaking rank. Some of them reformed, but most were held by utter terror. The loudest ones were shot, for a full minute hellpistols barked, sending bodies spasming to the dirt, which was quickly turning to red and mud in equal measure. The Leman Russ's activated their lamps, as did the Baneblade. It did little to pierce the darkness. In under five minutes, it had gone from day to almost pitch black. The ranks shuffled uncomfortably, although excessive executions had forced them in line again.

    Then, they came in force. We felt them before we saw them, the pound of enough feet to shake the ground. Lightning fighters swooped low across the plains, scanning them, but the darkness was too thick, the search lights too narrow. All we could make out were running shapes, roughly humanoid in shape. The men shuffled, las-rifles at the ready, into firing position, ready to pour las-fire into the enemy. Vox casters rang out as officers reported combat readiness. Commissar Kraymer held his sword skyward, and we opened fire.

    Such was the intensity of the fire that night became day. Cries of pain, screams of anguish. They were human. A flash of lighting and a instant crack of thunder lit up the salt plains.

    Slaves. Thousands, maybe even millions were running across the plain, their arms bound. Perhaps the entire population of Peraxes screaming as they were herded blind like cattle by slavers upon daemonic horses. An officer called out, and the dormant artillery came to life. Twenty Basilisks fired at once, a veritable shockwave buffeting the troops nearby. The ordnance slammed into the field, throwing up massive plumes of dirt, smashing bodies to pulp. The tide continued.

    "Second volley!" Asmodeus called out, and thousands of las-rifles crackled as they delievered their deadly payload. Hundreds of the captives fell, but thousands more stumbled over them. The Leman Russ's boomed, and the rounds sent slaves flying. The heavy weapons came to life, stitching wounds in the captives, throwing gore and flesh everywhere. Lightning crackled again, and the Thunderbolts flew overhead, lethal payload on the way. They zigged and zagged, dropping inciendiary bombs into the masses, sparking massive fires that slaughtered hundreds. Still more neared the line.

    A lone voxcaster activated, the only warning.

    The massive Devastator cannon mounted on the Baneblade roared, and a plume of fire rose from the ground. Entire bodies were obliterated, shrapnel killing dozens more. It wasn't enough. They came ever close.

    "Las-rifles free!" For the last 300 yards, the Guardsmen opened up full las-blasts. Slaves fell in droves, bodies tumbling to the floor, their chests smoking. Many men from the PDF segments cried as they did so, killing the citizens they had sworn to protect. But there was no turning back the tide. The slaves were mindless with fear, skin purple and red from beatings, the slave drivers pushing them on with barbed whips. Most of the slaves's lips had been sewn shut, but the force of their pain drove them to rip the rotted cord apart. Everything we had was being thrown into them, even the Chimera's were adding their fire. Entire bodies were vaporised, but five more ran howling over their remains.

    They reached the first heavy emplacement, five of them tripping over the sandbags. One fell right into the spray coming from the heavy stubber, his body eviscerated by the projectiles. The heavy weapons team lost it and crawled backwards, drawing their combat knives.

    "Three men! Constant fire, fire team bravo!" The Guardsmen redirected their fire, dropping the slaves that had breached the line. Not that it mattered, soon every emplacement on the other side of the barricade was overtaken, the men scrambling over the wire barricade. Guardsmen moved foreward, bayonets affixed. The slaves crashed against the wire's, the first ones being crushed into the razor sharp wire by the tide of humans behind them. Soon, they began to pile up, a ladder of corpses. The men shoved away most, but they just kept coming.

    "Shoot them, fools!" Asmodeus barked. The men reluctantly opened fire, sending the enemy tumbling back down, smoking craters on their bare chests. It did little more to stem the tide. Lighting flashed again, casting the desert plain with a infernal tinge. The clouds roiled, shivered, almost like they were alive. Thunder crackled across the plain, a backdrop to the cacophony of howls of the stricken.

    "Frak this!" I actiated the com-channel, but the storm was too powerful, frazzling any attempt at communications. All I got was static. Cursing for what seemed to be the hundreth time today, I turned, striding through the lines of Guardsmen to the hulking form of the Baneblade. I ascended the massive metal beast, rapping twice on the hatch. The thick metal made no sound. Snarling, I drew my hellpistol, and put three shots in it. The metal hissed under the intense heat, but little more. It had the desired effect, as the hatch popped open and a tech-priest stuck his head out. He began to speak, restrained fury in his voice. I waved him off with the hellpistol, pushing him down and following him down the ladder. The inside of the Baneblade was a lot more spacy than a Leman Russ, but it was full of people. Servitors were set in alcoves along the modified wedge-shaped command center. Tech-adepts waved lecterns over consoles and spoke in murmured prayers to the Omnissiah. The Lord-General stood near the various pict-recorders, watching the ongoing butchery with a stoic face.

    "Lord-General." The old man turned, despite his age, his back was straight as a las-bolt.
    "Commissar." His voice as weary, as if he had not slept in a while. He probably hadn't.
    "There are too many of them! We don't have enough ammunitions for them, let alone the time!"
    "And what do you propose we do? The nearest support is on another continent, and they are under siege as well."
    "Aerial bombardment! We were supposed to be fighting Chaos scum, not captive citizens."
    "So you propose we slaughter them, instead?"
    "It is the duty of the Commissariat to make the difficult decisions reguarding-" He cut me off with a brisque hand motion.
    "It matters not. The storm is too thick for aerial pict-recording view, Commissar. We're one bolt to miss, it would decimate our forces. I couldn't put a Hammerhead through, let alone a Lightning or Thunderbolt."
    "We have to try! They will force us into the city with the press of bodies, then the enemy will come and slaughter us in turn." The Lord-General sighed heavily.
  5. very nice very very nice i enjoyed it much
  6. *is caught playing with the ball*

  7. It's not done yet, I have a Wordpad file. >.>

    Inspiration is having sex with other men for a while D:<

  9. D:

    *Desperate phone call to inspiration*
  10. *Beats with a telescope*

    POST IT!
  11. Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

    *Tortures rap fanatics sullenly in his basement while he waits for the poison to work on the traitorous bastards system*
  12. I won't be closing the clan for a while. In fact i'll likely leave it to the staff, so you've got a good bit.
  13. <3

    It's hero worship drivel about Commissar Asmodeus.
  14. ....Waiting.