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  RE: Revival
January 15, 2016 2:58:15 PM    View the profile of Tetrarch 
Planetside: Near the Reaver Base.

Private First Class Hywel Diez. or “Skidz”as he was better known to his squadmates, hated walking point. He'd never shaken the feeling, not since basic training, that he was just a walking target. The sacrificial lamb or forlorn hope whose noble end would act as a warning for the others. And he sincerely doubted he'd get much satisfaction from knowing that he'd be avenged.

So when the call came through the comm for him to switch over, he heaved a sigh of relief, crouching in the muck, eyes squinting as he peered forward through the undergrowth. He didn't mind the dirt so much, anything that obscured the bright white armour he had on was welcome.

He hated woods. He remembered the first time he'd seen them, wide eyed wonder being his overwhelming emotion while others had sneered mockingly. When you scrapped for every bit of moisture you could get, seeing lush wet woodland was a shock. It had faded fast. Still beats being a dirt farmer though, he thought idly.

Eighteen years on Brudny had been eighteen too many. He'd shipped off soon as possible and never looked back. His younger brothers would be there to work the farm and he'd likely just get caught up in a blood-feud or be stuck eking out a living on some croft, paying his annual tithe to the governor.

Maybe the bush isn't so bad afterall.

Third squad had fanned out to cut right through the brush, keeping loose contact with their comrades in fourth. Their buddies in first and second were coming round from the other side. But the growth was so dense they'd found themselves being channelled in. A couple of small trails had been found but they'd no sooner got on them then they were ordered off. He stayed crouched as the next trooper, Kmoch, moved up to take his place in the line. “I need to take a piss” he muttered. “Just count yourself lucky it's not number two then Skidz” the other retorted. Inside his helmet, Skidz grimaced, one unlucky incident and a nickname stuck to you like a bad smell.

He waited for Kmoch to move on a bit further before following him, keeping his finger just off the trigger and his eyes roving left and right. Frackin' locals, they hadn't even set up decent pic-

The shockwave knocked him off his feet and sent him sprawling. It saved his life. Skidz was rolling  onto his back when the spring mine went off and decapitated the new guy next in line. His body crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A shredder blew out like a massive shotgun blast, sending flechettes and slivers of metal into the formation, screams following the detonation. Streams of blaster fire began to sweep the ambush zone, red bolts flashing in at waist height. Rory made a break for the left flank, made it two steps and was scythed down by the intersecting fire.

“Forward element, report over!” it was the Lieutenant, screaming over the comm, no doubt praying to whatever he held dear that someone, something had survived. “Corporal, respond!”. Skidz gaze flashed to the right where he'd last seen the NCO. A smell of cooked meat was overwhelming his helmet filters, a limb blackened and burnt was draped on a branch, a perfect scorched circle marking where the plasma mine had immolated him.

“Six, this is Three, we're pinned down sir, they're dug in” he was shocked how calm his voice sounded “Hold on Three, Four is moving to help” came the grim response “Recommend popping smoke”. Still lying on his back, Skidz felt his blood run cold as he saw dim figures moving on the flank. He fired wildly, not sure if he'd clipped one or they'd just gone into cover.

He rolled onto his front and shoving his rifle forward, began to shoot into the brush. Ahead of him Kmoch was working his way slowly forward, right to a tree. Rising up to his knees, he primed and lobbed a grenade. A figure emerged from the undergrowth ahead of them a second before a blast removed the body from view.

On the other side Maike had made it into cover and was firing in bursts with her repeating blaster. The heavier weapons fire had set small parts of the brush alight, she was firing just as wild as the ambushers. The suppression had some effect, it made it possible for Skidz to move.

Crawling, Skidz began to make his way forward again, encouraged by the covering fire. Kmoch risked a look back at him. “I think if we-” his thought never finished as a blaster bolt blasted right into his respirator. Skidz tried to worm his way into the earth as bolts singed the air above him. One kissed the top of his helmet, the sudden jolt of heat making him yelp. He primed a detonater and lobbed it ahead. The blast might have been wide but it did a lot for his comfort. And it fought off that animal desire to dig a burrow and never emerge into the daylight again.

A young tree groaned in sympathy as yet another bolt hit it head on. Weakened from explosions and repeated hits, it teetered, wailed and hit the ground hard enough that Skidz felt it. It was a chance gifted by the stars and he took it, half crawling and half scrambling for the flank, using the fallen trunk for cover. He moved on all fours, rifle abandoned, like an animal, just wanting to get away from the noise, the smell. He'd lost his helmet somewhere, he didn't know where. He didn't care.

He tripped and sprawled across a corpse. One of his squad, he couldn't make out the insignia. Robotically, his hands began to pry at the harness on the dead stormtrooper, taking two or three attempts, his entire body shaking.

He wasn't quite aware of what he was doing as he lurched through the trees, the weapons fire and chaos seeming far off in his mind. There! A loader moved to a crouch to pick up a fresh power pack for their heavy repeater, she froze as she spotted the dishevelled stormtrooper emerging from the trees. It wasn't his wild eyed look that gave her pause, it was the flamethrower gripped firmly in his hands.

Skidz burnt both the loader and her gunner. He ran forward and burnt a pirate who was emerging from a shell scrape. He held the trigger down and burnt. The flamethrower howling a hot wind of death as he washed bright orange and red flame across everything in his path. Gouts of cleansing fury overwhelmed the ambushers as Skidz howled along with the sound of the flames. Skidz was at the centre of an inferno, tongues of fire caressing everything with its deadly kiss. He ignored the shouts, the panic, the blaster shots. He just burnt whatever he could, the cone of flames dancing wherever he aimed it. With a sob, he turned and played the flames across the corpses, cackling and screaming.

The attackers had already broken, fleeing to regroup, pulling back into the brush. He stood alone in the charred, blackened undergrowth watching as flames licked along dead wood or burnt themselves on green leaves.

By then the flamethrower was empty, Fourth squad and Maike had to pry it from his hands.

Onboard the E-9 en route to the orbiting VE Fleet.

Cathal had the shock of his life as the pilot's mouth began to open but instead another voice chimed in. The materialisation of the AI nearly gave him a heart attack, he was scrabbling for his sidearm until he realised it was just a hologram.


What came out in a slightly more articulate manner was “The...the ship is talking”. A moment later as if from an afterthought, “Feth”. Awkwardly rebuckling his holster, his features frowned as he replayed the words. "What's impervious?"

Coillte being the colonial backwater it was, advanced artificial intelligence was the subject of hushed fireside tales and akin to boogeymen. Droids were restrained when not in use and advanced tech eyed dubiously. Primitive by coreworld standards, he probably seemed about to dance with fire and try to smash up the console.

He eyed the AI suspiciously, taking a step back as the by play between the pilot and it continued. No way he was thinking of that thing as a she. He bit his lip thoughtfully, not too comforted by what he was hearing. "Are you qualified to fly this?" he asked warily, his voice low.

"Answer: Irrelevant. Query is from an individual with insufficient experience. Answer is not required". Cathal groaned and opened his mouth to speak but Noma continued "Observation: Based on the intelligence estimates of both lifeforms-" Cathal put his hands over his ears for a moment and swore quite viciously in Coilltean.

"Is. There. Any. Way. We. Can. Turn. It. Off" he said slowly and quietly through his teeth, trying not to move his mouth. The AI rolled her eyes "Information: My communication suite is such that attempts to disguise dialogue by voice modulation or delivery is futile." Cathal's blood boiled. The AI chimed in again, "Correction: Pathetic".

"I'm not cargo" he told the AI, reluctantly forcing himself to confront it. The educated voice was smug, "Correction: You are insufficient and surplus to our needs. Your lack of skills and training renders you even inferior to this substandard human currently attempting to pilot this vessel" His face was red as Makenna's now.

"I hate machines" he told Makenna, "I don't care if you just graduated, I'm happier with you piloting than this-" he muttered something in Coilltean, guttural and full of vowels. Noma frowned "Observation: Subject is of inferior birth and education. Summation: Desperation is leading the Empire to lower recruitment standards". Cathal restrained himself from smashing the console with his rifle stock.
[STC] Private 1st Class Cathal "Swamprat" Mckarthaigh.
[This message has been edited by Tetrarch (edited January 15, 2016 2:59:09 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Tetrarch (edited January 15, 2016 3:23:38 PM)]
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  RE: Revival
January 16, 2016 7:40:32 PM    View the profile of Havock 
“Ah.” Drac frowned, looking around. An irritable-looking female stormtrooper was talking past, her helmet under her arm. Drac recognized General Havock, “General!”

Havock looked over toward him, scowling, “Captain. You’ve got fewer blasters pointed at you than the last time I saw you. What do you want?”

Mihawk jerked a thumb up and back, indicating the prototype TIE behind him, “I’m taking that newfangled monster down to ruin some peoples’ day. I need a gunner, though. Four front-facing laser cannons, a missile launcher, and two rear-facing cannons that could be all yours. Interested?”

The human woman stared at the TIE skeptically for a moment, glanced over toward where the transport ship was finishing the loading process, and broke out a grin, “Oh, hell yeah.”

Ayme turned quickly towards the busy hanger in time to see the last of the transport vessels exit. She had just had a conversation with her sister on the surface with the troopers. That was where she should have been if not for the politics her position required of her. This was part of the job of being Prefect that she had not missed in the years since she had left the Empire.

“Well General, you coming?”

Ayme jerked her attention back to the larger than typical TIE fighter which was now in the boarding position. Her eyes landed on the Mon Cal pilot who was climbing into the pilots position. She followed quickly behind and settled into the gunners chair directly behind him.

“Drac, I really hope you didn’t just get that rank on your good looks. I’ve survived way too many of my own disasters to get blown up because you got distracted by a fish-like constellation.”

“Charming General, hold on.”

Ayme fixed her headset into place as the TIE slowly lifted off the loading rack and tubes of some sort popped off the fuselage. “Geezus Drac. We are flying into a battle, for mopak sake, just call me Havock. Isn’t that what you flyboys do? Use callsigns?”

“Well I’d be happy to have a detailed discourse with you on the operating practice of the Imperial Navy.”

A series of very colorful curse words in a variety of languages ended the Line Captain’s speech.

“I take that as a no then, Havock.”

Ayme growled into the headset, “just find a target already.”

The collection of large capital ships came into view. With the addition of the fleet which had appeared to cause all the tension in the first place, they had assembled quite a large group of allies. The bile rose in her throat as she felt the full force of every G that pushed against her body in the small cockpit. It was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time.

“Okay, hold on. I’m getting some targets groundside…looks like AA guns. You see them on the targeting computer?”

Ayme looked down at her controls and only then realized just how complicated they actually were. “Umm…”

She quickly adjusted her hands on the two triggers. There were several switches and knobs surrounding a small screen. Her eyes fell to that screen and saw a series of green and red dots across a plane of faint squares.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and convince her breakfast to stay right where it was. “Yea…okay. The large square blimps as opposed to the dots right?”


“Sounds good…I’m still not getting any indication of where our guys are on the ground.”

There was silence for several moments, she assumed Drac was checking his own instruments. “They are working on it, just focus on those guns they are making it difficult to send any of the larger ships in for reinforcements.”

“All right, got it.”

Sorry not much here, just felt like I was neglecting everyone so I wanted to get something up lol. I tried my best to describe what I could remember about the TIE cockpit, because the internet failed me, so if anything is incorrect you'll have to let me know.
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  RE: Revival
January 21, 2016 4:12:29 AM    View the profile of Eviscares 
The moment the second blast hit Sam, someone had already yelled “Snipers!”, and squad one was diving for what little cover the treestumps could afford.
Faced with a situation like this, the soldiers reacted in the only possible way. They panicked. Blasters opened up, firing in all directions, trying to get something like a suppression going.
For a moment Eviscares joined in, and then he realized what had happened here.
“Ah… Sithspit…”, he muttered, and started to crawl over to Sam. What he saw there could only be described as gruesome. Sam had been lucky that whoever tried to off him had gone for his center of mass thrice, instead of doing a tattoine drill on him. Still prone, he took off the wounded troopers helmet just in time to hear him utter:”So this armor is my whited sepulcher…”.
He bit back his first remark, which would’ve been: “Don’t you go melodramatic on me, Lieutenant.”, and instead used the com to send out the vastly more helpful:”We got the LT down, I repeat, the LT is down.”
And then it hit him. It might just be that he just inherited command. They hadn’t set up everything good and proper, but if no one gave any orders right this second, the squad would mostly fall apart. His time as assistant squadleader resurfaced in his brain, and he started barking out orders.
“Fireteams, set up a perimeter, leapfrog it if you have to, but I want my suppression up. Whoever is closest to a combat medic, get over here, I need the LT patched up.”
Around him soldiers started to move, fire died down in one second, only to start up again shortly afterwards.
A figure came crawling towards him, the helmets systems tagging her as Senior Sergeant Helena, much to his relief she dispensed with the talking, and just got to work as good as she could, seeing as the three of them were still laying in the dirt.
After half a minute, that felt like an eternity he heard her voice over the com: ”Sergeant, he won’t make it, we have to get him out of here faster than a wookie gets thrown out of a Coruscant waxing parlor.”
“Hang on, I’ll try to get us something”, he replied before he switched over to long range com.
“This is Sergeant Eviscares, acting squadleader of squad one. We need a casevac, in grid Wookie Hoth Seven Niner.”

Aboard the Ryujin:
“Ryujin, this is Vast Empire Actual, you have been retasked for casevac in Sector Wookie Hoth Seven Niner. LZ is hot, Ties have been retasked to assist. How copy?”
Jester Squad
VE Smoker Association
Excitement abounds
I almost can't wait
Relax, I don't want your baby
I already ate

IronHorseSquad forever in my heart!

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  RE: Revival
January 21, 2016 6:50:29 AM    View the profile of Merrick 
Merrick had found herself a nice, tall, and – most importantly – abandoned outbuilding. Well, except for the unfortunate local she’d found hiding at the top, and whom she’d knocked out without much regard for his future wellbeing. There’d once been mines planted around the place, but most of them had been overcome by the elements and she’d managed to circumvent the rest. The comms were full of green troopers, and out of practice veterans shouting at one another. She took off her helmet and sat it on the floor, removed the rifle from her back and set up looking towards the compound just in time to see a trooper go down. It seemed the enemy had a sharpshooter or two of their own. She smiled as one too another shot, giving away his position, and took him out the moment she was sure where he was hiding. The other didn’t fire again, not wishing to share his comrade’s fate.

It wasn’t too long before more of the rodents tried to flank the advancing squads. It was almost as though they wanted to die. Merrick shot the three moving up the right through the dense underbrush, making the other four far to the left rethink their advance. She only wounded one before they made their escape back into the tunnel they’d apparently emerged from. She jammed her helmet back on and alerted the nearest squad, who changed their route and followed the group cautiously through the not so secret entrance. Since no more targets seemed to feel the need to present themselves, she packed up her rifle and made her way back to the ground. She’d no idea where Fury had got to, but knowing him, he had found his own brand of fun somewhere else. Certainly with his two large friends, she needn’t be worried about his safety.

Her own, on the other hand, was about to be in doubt. She’d run towards the thicket where she’d earlier seen a mine take out members of one of the squads. If nothing else, they had cleared a safe passage to the entrance the squad had eventually disappeared into. They’d also left a heck of a mess and she picked her way through, trying not to step on any of the pieces. Fury wouldn’t want to get the armour back covered in bits of newbies. Close quarters now. She drew both blaster pistols and made an effort to catch up with the troopers already inside. Either the enemy was running out of meat to send to the grinder, or they’d holed up somewhere deeper within the compound to await the impending attack. What little resistance she did meet was quickly cut down; in some cases literally. She’d moved on the axe when she’d gotten bored.

All four squads had eventually converged on the command centre, where the bulk of the enemy seemed to have gathered. Someone was working on the door controls. Merrick stayed in the entry one of the corridors that led to the killbox that most of the troopers – her troopers, at least for the moment – were now collected in, waiting for the doors to open. Some of the other veterans had taken up similar positions at the other entrances. She’d switched back to the pistols and employed a nonchalant stance. No reason to alarm the others, yet, or betray her impatience with the slow progress on getting in to the command centre. She was just beginning to think she had overestimated the enemy’s intelligence when the troopers covering one of the other hallways opened fire on something approaching their position. Her own field of view was clear for now, but she readied herself for it to get busy.

Four of the green troopers now covered the guy working on the door and she’d redistributed the rest to cover all the approaches. Of the five corridors leading towards the command room, three were currently under various levels of attack. Her own remained frustratingly clear, but she knew the moment she left it unattended it would be a mistake, so she kept her eyes focussed away from the fight she could hear raging behind her. Raging was probably a generous word, if she was honest. They were only slightly outnumbered, and even with the gap in service for the majority of them, her troops were better trained than the enemy. If they lost this fight, they deserved to lose the planet they’d once commanded. The frequency of shots behind her had dropped dramatically, and as she turned to investigate the door at the other end of the hallway she’d been covering was blown in, sending her sprawling. The rookies who’d been backing her up weren’t all so lucky. Two had been close enough to get burned up in the blast. When she’d regained her balance, she glanced cautiously down the hallway. It seemed the enemy had fared even worse, half a dozen or so had been on the other end of the blast and not lived to tell the tale. So much for taking the place intact, she thought to herself.

The doors behind her finally hissed open. She crouched, preparing to come under fire, but they found the room empty. She actually laughed, both at the anticlimax and the fact that she’d failed to anticipate this eventuality. In the end though, it didn’t matter that much. Those enemy that were left had retreated and found, she imagined much to their dismay, that their air cover was still in the vicinity. They could hear and feel the shots from the TIEs hitting the ground outside. While she sat in the command centre, helmet off, the troopers left alive and not tending to their wounded comrades checked the enemy strewn about the place to see if any had survived. That done, she sent small groups to clear the remainder of the compound. It felt like it had been too easy, but there were certain to be other challenges with regard to taking back total control of the planet.

Okay, wrap it up with the thugs, let's go people.
AXO | BGN Skyalin 'Merrick' Tel'sha | VEA | VE
[This message has been edited by Merrick (edited January 21, 2016 6:53:19 AM)]
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