|
Post by Gabriel Lupus on Oct 19, 2010 5:55:37 GMT -5
ooooo... RT's going to have a go at writing about Marines in a fight in the book sense (rather than tabletop sense)... now this could be interesting...
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Dec 8, 2010 16:08:20 GMT -5
The first slug went wide, winging off the shoulderguard of the lead Astartes to smash into the overhead gantries like a twisted, metal fist. The second hit home beautifully, smashing headlong into the sergeant's helmet, hot metal smashing cold and sending half a ton of superhuman warrior crashing to the ground like so much scrap metal. After that, Drang was upon them, his insane ferocity still echoing throughout the high hardness of the room. The second Marine had his bolter levelled, high-explosive slugs chewing up the concrete floor even as Drang pulled the breaching maul off his back, and in the same motion, smashed it into the Astartes.
The breaching maul was twenty-two pounds of heavy, weighted adamantium, most of it in the blunt, smooth head. Designed to smash open fortified barriers, armour plating and break open fortifications, it's scarred, pitted head consisted of a simple projected energy field, and a robust mass-effect field. When swung with sufficient energy, the mass effect field would activate, rapidly increasing the weapon's mass and, consequently, momentum while retaining velocity. In effect, it was the most advanced sledgehammer in the known universe.
Drangs' swing smashed the Marine across the room, shattering his armour and most of his bones, pulping it's flesh and sending it flying through the air to crash headlong into the opposite wall, before landing in a broken, mangled pile of armour and tissue. A delighted, malevolent snarl tore apart his lips even as he leapt away from the third Astartes, who had drawn a combat knife of the same size and heft as a machete and was hacking away at him, bladed, steely death whistling in the air left and right as Drang jinked and dodged, laughing like every demon in hell as he parried the shattering, cleaving blows off his armoured vambraces until-
The fourth and fifth Astartes charged, bullish, deep-throated roars elevated to a god-like shout of wrathful piety, armoured dreadnoughts steaming ahead at their foe.
Drang snarled, hurling a blind grenade to the floor. A resounding, blinding flash filled the room as fourty grams of magnesium went off like a fistfull of bottled lightning, throwing up a cloud of smoke, steam and dust as the explosive concussion kicked up a obscuring curtain.
The dreadnaughts steamed on into the fog.
A moment's pause, silent save for the sibilant hiss of the smoke, and then a gunshot resounded in the darkness, the heavy, vicious bark of a revolver, curiously muted. Another silent moment, and the revolver barked again, the last Astartes cursing as the heavy slug blew out the servos at the back of his knee, dropping him to the floor, and then a wrenching, shattering impact as Drang's lightning-edged mace smashed in the marine's skull, metal and bone crumpling inwards.
The smoke cleared, the remaining Astartes sweeping the room left and right with his boltgun, cold, methodical movements covering his entire frontal arc, the sergeant staggering to his feet, tearing off the ruined, mangled helmet and standing with his battle-brother, watching the clearing fog for any hint of movement, any flicker of that hunting, stalking darkness.
Instead, as the smoke finally cleared, there stood twenty of the 'Rifles finest, armed to the teeth.
The last two Astartes disintegrated, as bullets, shot, shrapnel and explosive fury tore them to bloody, ragged shreds.
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Mar 12, 2011 18:42:37 GMT -5
Was it really that bad?
|
|
|
Post by Paradill on Mar 13, 2011 2:32:06 GMT -5
Well it's beautifully written and Drang is now quite possibly my favourite sledgehammer wielding psychopath ever. The only niggle I have is that the fight against the Astartes was too easy. They don't get disorientated by motion, light or sound and their reflexes are much, much faster. Not to say that Drang couldn't beat them, just maybe not as easily as he did.
Like I said, beautifully written.
Paradill
|
|
|
Post by Gabriel Lupus on Mar 13, 2011 5:04:31 GMT -5
Certainly far better than most descriptions of Astartes in battles - particularly the fact that there are only what? five Astartes versus twenty guard equivalents and a daemonically possessed beast. Originally cautious that maybe there should have been a little more success or potential threat for Drang (maybe an unexpected wounding at the hands of one of the Marines?), but I think it actually works quite well. Marines are certainly one of the harder inhabitants of 40k to write about - especially when opposing them, but I think you've actually done admirably. As I said, it's better than pretty much anything else that has Marines in it, with the possible exception of the Chaos Marines in "Storm of Iron". It also certainly has the usual blood gore and excitement we've come to expect from your writing RT, and definitely keeps up the fast adrenaline pace. I like it. not sure how I missed the update when it was originally posted... maybe similar reasons to the update I added to my "Tau study" painting thread where the post shows, but is not listed in the "most recent poster" column... ah well, found it now, and suitably impressed
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Mar 13, 2011 11:11:10 GMT -5
Well it's beautifully written and Drang is now quite possibly my favourite sledgehammer wielding psychopath ever. The only niggle I have is that the fight against the Astartes was too easy. They don't get disorientated by motion, light or sound and their reflexes are much, much faster. Not to say that Drang couldn't beat them, just maybe not as easily as he did. Like I said, beautifully written. Paradill Nowhere did I really pretend the Marines weren't fast or strong...the sheer amount of random fluff about them means that writing about Adeptus Astartes is quite difficult business. It's not that they're particularly slow or that Drang used any unreasonable tricks, merely a smoke-screen and sheer, blinding speed. Besides, I've never seen actual evidence of Space Marines being that fast. In fiction and in movies and games they always seem to move about as fast as a normal human.
|
|
|
Post by RedsandRoyals on Mar 13, 2011 11:20:32 GMT -5
Well it's beautifully written and Drang is now quite possibly my favourite sledgehammer wielding psychopath ever. The only niggle I have is that the fight against the Astartes was too easy. They don't get disorientated by motion, light or sound and their reflexes are much, much faster. Not to say that Drang couldn't beat them, just maybe not as easily as he did. Like I said, beautifully written. Paradill Nowhere did I really pretend the Marines weren't fast or strong...the sheer amount of random fluff about them means that writing about Adeptus Astartes is quite difficult business. It's not that they're particularly slow or that Drang used any unreasonable tricks, merely a smoke-screen and sheer, blinding speed. Besides, I've never seen actual evidence of Space Marines being that fast. In fiction and in movies and games they always seem to move about as fast as a normal human. *Cough* Initiative 4 *Cough* Also, grab a PDF of the deathwatch book if you want to get a better, more condensed look at SM and their gear. Some of it is DW specific, but a lot is just average marines, since that particular variant of the DH system lets you just play normal SM too. It really helps when you want to know what their gear does (for instance, SM wearing their helmets aren't going to be defeated by a flashbang). Reds
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Mar 13, 2011 11:37:44 GMT -5
Nowhere did I really pretend the Marines weren't fast or strong...the sheer amount of random fluff about them means that writing about Adeptus Astartes is quite difficult business. It's not that they're particularly slow or that Drang used any unreasonable tricks, merely a smoke-screen and sheer, blinding speed. Besides, I've never seen actual evidence of Space Marines being that fast. In fiction and in movies and games they always seem to move about as fast as a normal human. *Cough* Initiative 4 *Cough* Also, grab a PDF of the deathwatch book if you want to get a better, more condensed look at SM and their gear. Some of it is DW specific, but a lot is just average marines, since that particular variant of the DH system lets you just play normal SM too. It really helps when you want to know what their gear does (for instance, SM wearing their helmets aren't going to be defeated by a flashbang). Reds Are you suggesting GW rules have anything at all to with the fluff? I do recall something about the SM having helmets, but specifically the blind grenade didn't stop blind the marines, it just kicked up a massive cloud of vapour and smoke (and it would actually overload most optical or Infa-Red sensors. You can stop the blinding effect, but there will be momentary loss of data simply because the white light blocks out anything else.)
|
|
|
Post by RedsandRoyals on Mar 13, 2011 11:43:32 GMT -5
*Cough* Initiative 4 *Cough* Also, grab a PDF of the deathwatch book if you want to get a better, more condensed look at SM and their gear. Some of it is DW specific, but a lot is just average marines, since that particular variant of the DH system lets you just play normal SM too. It really helps when you want to know what their gear does (for instance, SM wearing their helmets aren't going to be defeated by a flashbang). Reds Are you suggesting GW rules have anything at all to with the fluff? I do recall something about the SM having helmets, but specifically the blind grenade didn't stop blind the marines, it just kicked up a massive cloud of vapour and smoke (and it would actually overload most optical or Infa-Red sensors. You can stop the blinding effect, but there will be momentary loss of data simply because the white light blocks out anything else.) No, just suggesting there is plenty of basis for it. I've also read descriptions of SM having super human reflexes. As to the dust cloud, yeah, that would work, which is why I didn't take issue with that part per say. Just giving an example of the kind of details it gives on the capabilities of SM and their wargear. Reds
|
|
|
Post by Paradill on Mar 13, 2011 14:11:54 GMT -5
Besides, I've never seen actual evidence of Space Marines being that fast. In fiction and in movies and games they always seem to move about as fast as a normal human. It's stated quite clearly in most HH novels and audio dramas that space marines are quite simply, ridiculously fast. I think when it comes to games and movies, it is our own human limitations that restrict how fast they go, if they went as fast as the books, we wouldn't see much of the action, just a blur of motion. I completely agree that writing Astartes is a difficult thing to do and I think you managed to do a thoroughly sterling job, like I said, it was just a little niggle. I look forward to reading more of your stuff. Paradill
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Mar 13, 2011 14:38:16 GMT -5
Besides, I've never seen actual evidence of Space Marines being that fast. In fiction and in movies and games they always seem to move about as fast as a normal human. It's stated quite clearly in most HH novels This is where the problem lies. I never read Space Smurf fiction. In retrospect, I do admit I made it seem "Too easy." I fully intended for the Marines to formidable foes, but my writing these days is increasingly stilted. I'm thinking of leaving Drang by the wayside for a while and starting afresh on a new project.
|
|
|
Post by Gabriel Lupus on Mar 13, 2011 15:48:08 GMT -5
Why the heck has the board decided I posted that reply twice?
Must be some form of technical glitch somewhere between my 'puter and the tinterweb...
RT, though I would miss installments of Drang and his cohorts, sometimes, especially when you feel "stilted" as you say, a break can really refresh your mind.
|
|
|
Post by Helmian (M.I.A) on Mar 13, 2011 16:03:15 GMT -5
This is where the problem lies. I never read Space Smurf fiction. Personally I found the Horus Heresy books to be quite enjoyable, and I would say among the best books written about marines. I have actually only read the first four books and 'Prospero Burns', but I liked them ('Prospero Burns' particularly, but then again I think Space Wolves are awesome...).
|
|
LemonKing
Lieutenant
Sacrifice your turtles or face my wrath!
Posts: 140
|
Post by LemonKing on Mar 21, 2011 4:38:03 GMT -5
a break is what every writer needs. leave it for a few weeks or months then come back, read through it and get on with the next installment, i for one cannot wait
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Mar 26, 2011 18:55:21 GMT -5
The last Astartes fell to the ground with a resounding crash, half a ton of superman and machine laid low in the dust that even now congealed with the blood that ran and poured from the holes and rents in it's bullet-riddled armour. From his box high in the rafters of the warehouse, Captain Drang sketched an elegant, bloody bow of appreciation to the armoured orchestra of Genswick Rifles. Collins looked up at his commander, his yellow-burnt eyes meeting the black, hideous pits of his commander's, identical, victorious grins set into their faces. We've won, their eyes said. We cannot be stopped, they thought, sharing the exhultant craze of victory more potent than all the drugs swimming through Drang's blood. Collins, still smiling up at Drang, gently, slowly, brought his armoured finger-tips to his temples, feeling the cold, artificial kiss of the steel against his exposed flesh, revelling in the heightened, adrenaline-fuelled hedonism of the shared kill.
Drang's killer grin only deepened as Collins ripped off a salute so perfect in it's wound-up, contained savagery it could have killed, dropping his head again in salute, before he dropped, falling like a dark-winged swallow, the resounding "thud" of his fall accompanied by the cacophonous, steely chorus of twenty magazines being reloaded in immaculate, brutal unison.
"Captain Collins?" said Drang, his chainsaw-edged snarl so alive, so ferocious and mad that it rang in warsong and bloodlust, a terrible inspiration sweeping through the men. "Would you care to accompany me? I have an appointment to keep."
"Sir" began Collins, still smiling with the exuberant, murderous thrill of killing, "I am ever at your disposal. Let's kill these bastards."
"Aye. Lets" said Drang, turning on his heel. "Okay Genswicks. Let's move out!"
With that, Captain Drang strode away, the armoured wake of soldiery spreading out behind him as he advanced to the next warehouse door.
|
|
|
Post by Bryant on Mar 27, 2011 18:04:04 GMT -5
So I have a squad of guard? Sweet!
|
|
LemonKing
Lieutenant
Sacrifice your turtles or face my wrath!
Posts: 140
|
Post by LemonKing on Apr 3, 2011 5:31:20 GMT -5
yeah though 5 bucks they're gonna die
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Jul 2, 2011 11:02:27 GMT -5
Above the ruined town, Valkyries circled, pennant-contrails of water vapour spreading behind them as fire spread from beneath their wings, arcing and swooping like iron-winged swallows as they harried the withdrawing enemy, bringing down hammer-blows of rocket and multilaser fire on any foe with the temerity to attempt a withdrawal, the noise and cry of their fiery passage breaking the spirit of their foes, breaking the line far more effectively than any weapon they had.
As if to prove him wrong, at that moment, the guns of the Malengradian 1st Heavy Artillery open up. Great, ringing peals of man-made thunder burst on the targeted structure, the very air bulging and tearing as sheer, conccussive force blew the building into rubble, smashing clean through every floor of the hab-block to detonate within. A quiet, cruel smile ghosted across Von Luckner's marble features, as he watched the strongpoint quiver, trembling under the heavy hand of the guns, before it fell inwards, crumbling into dust.
"Beowulf, this is Iron Men. Barrage successful" reported his vox-op.
"Roger Iron Men. Out" replied the battery commander, even as he revved up the engines on his Bombards and began the slow, labourious work of repositioning his mobile guns before the invariable counterbattery fire came in.
Von Lucker nodded acknowledgement, the firm courtesy of a commander to a subordinate at a duty well-done, then went to the side of the Valkyrie, where two more of his troopers - Griek and Vasson - had opened up the heavy side door, and begun taking oppurtunistic pot-shots at the enemy with their lasguns.
"Elegantly done" he said, commending Griek as a loyalist trooper in the colours of the local Frateris Militia went down, a high-power lasbolt punching through his shoulder armour and boiling away flesh. Griek smiled, emboldened by the praise of his superior, even as he sent another shot at a second militiaman as he sprinted to grab his fallen comrade, grabbing him by the collar and dragging the screaming man off towards the rubble even as the Valkyrie swept over him, fire snap-snapping around his feet as the two sharpshooters plastered his vicinity with lasbolts.
Von Luckner smiled again, white-gloved hand brushing the gold hilt of his sabre in quiet salute to his enemy.
"See" he said, turning his head to address his ensign, a slight woman by the name of Eliss, the fleur-de-lys of her former calling still marked across her cheeks. "We can break machines. We've turned entire plains of tanks to scrap and burning fuel. We can break buildings, down into dust and rubble. And we've broken worlds - left nothing but burnt-out cities and fields, choked with the bodies of their fallen youth. But" he went on, gesturing to the now-collapsed building, which the bloodied remnants of the surviving Frateris Militia still held, lasguns blazing red-white defiance at the heaven and earth, at the screaming, iron-winged devils that tormented them from above, and the black-armoured mad dogs of Third Company that closed upon them, the great, ululating howl of bloodletting upon their lips. "But you've not won until you've broken the man. And that, ensign, is the very essence of war."
The former Battle Sister nodded, acknowledging her superior's words with a deep bow of her head. Von Luckners' smiled deepened momentarily, before the chill, silver mask of a Mordian officer fell down across his features.
"Sir, we're getting in a report from First Company" reported his vox-man. "Lieutenant Kommenus insists on speaking with you."
Typical First Company, thought Von Luckner. Insubordinate madmen to the last, all skill and no discipline.
"This is Von Luckner" he said in tones of icy, sabre-edged fury. "Report, Lieutenant."
"We've spotted a counterattack coming in down the main roadway. I've got men putting stubber rounds on it from the chapel, but they're not stopping. Looks like about a platoon-sized force-"
"Platoon sized counterattack advancing along the line of the roadway. And you-" Von Luckner spoke, the cold, clipped precision of his words hiding all but the very edge of his sneer of contempt.
"No, dammit" snarled Kommenus over the increasing roar of gunfire, and he realised that the lieutenant had, as was typical with First Company officers, not only gone to the firing line but was also making his own, not-inconsiderable contribution to the fire he could see pouring from the chapel spire down the roadway, rather than bothering himself with anything so mundane as directing his company. "They're not advancing along the line of the roadway. They're walking straight down the bloody road, and -oh, Khorne's teeth, it had to be the bloody Adeptus Sororitas!" he said, voice rising to a scream, half-rage, half-fear as the firing redoubled, and the vox-link cut out.
A moment's consideration, allowing the irritation at the too-human lack of composure of the First Company, and Von Luckner tapped in his squad frequency in the comm-bead.
"Pilot, take us over the highway. Let's take a look at this counterattack."
As the Valkyrie swooped over the main artery that ran into the Imperial Square, Von Luckner could not help but feel a small touch of admiration for the Adeptus Sororitas. Fifty of the black-armoured figures advanced down the main highway, armoured heads held high even as First Company poured a riverine torrent of white-hot metal, far more than any mere company of men should have been able to, into them. In return, the sisters held their fire, conserving the ammunition of their short-ranged weapons.
Von Luckner could not help but smile at their discipline, advancing ever-implacably even as he saw one of their number go down, a fist-sized hole punched clean through the armour plate of her helmet that told him Viconia and Diego had set up their anti-material rifle somewhere.
"It's a suicide run, sir" said Ensign Eliss. "They were sworn to protect the chapel, and they will. They'll keep coming until we've killed the last one of them."
"I wouldn't have it any other way" replied Von Luckner, watching through his field-binoculars as the remnants of the Frateris Militia withdrew from their forlorn positions along the edges of the Imperial Square, pulling back in good order as the nearby Mercenaries reacted to the sudden offensive. Von Luckner watched as a duo of heavy-winged gunships swooped over the Sisters, blanketing their position in a storm of fragmentation rockets, fire, shrapnel, dust blocking out his vision in a burning cloud.
He merely raised an eyebrow as the Sororitas advanced out of the destruction, not once breaking their stride even as they raised up their bolters and opened up on First Company, and now, two torrents of fire streaked between the units, First Company opening up with everything they had and the Sisters responding in kind, even as their armoured bodies strode on. Bullets, bolts and white-hot gouts of plasma arced through the skies, and now casualties began to mount as both sides opened up with all the sound and fury that entailed, plasma guns scything down Battle Sisters even as Mercenaries fell to the explosive fury of bolters, hallways and coloumnades bursting into shrapnel as explosive bolts tore their cover apart, bullets finding chinks and cracks in their formidable armour, the armoured women faltering, blood slicking their armour, men flying as explosive bolts burst upon their armoured cuirasses, concussion shattering ribs like chicken bones, Lieutenant Kommenus screaming as a bolter shell took his arm off at the elbow.
"Screw this" snarled a harsh, blood-edged voice over the vox-net, and Von Luckner could head the psychotic, grief-maddened fury barely held in check even before he recognised the man speaking. "Vixen. Kill these bĂtches."
Von Luckner watched, feeling the bloody grandeur of it all sweep him away, as the heavy-framed wings of the Vulture gunship appeared overhead, swooping down to hover over the Square, it's predatory wings casting a long shadow across the broken Aquilla in the dawn light, and opened fire.
The screaming, howling wall of death tore the Sisters apart. Massive, high-velocity shells blew them apart, their armour no more protection than tin foil as the twin Punisher cannons swept the roadway clean, dustbin-sized holes punched into the rockcrete, armoured limbs flying through the dust-ridden, filthy air as Vixen wiped them out, their return fire breaking like fireworks against the heavy frontal armour of the Vulture gunship.
And then, there was silence, save for the footfalls of Lieutenant Lucius Hrax, mad with his vengeful fury, and a few companions, striding out into the roadway. No flags marked his presence. No standard flew, no proud, glorious victory for him. This was nothing, if not a personal trip of hate.
A battle sister stirred at his feet, and he shot her, armour-piercing rounds putting a finger-sized hole in her helmet and spattering her brains onto the insides of her helmet. Another staggered up, and met the same fate, two pistol-shots punching neatly through her chestpiece and bursting her heart.
A bolter round smashed into the rockcrete floor near him, scouring him with shrapnel even as he turned. But Sergeant Fabian - bold, wrathful Fabian - was faster, scything down the Sister in a hail of high-velocity shotgun slugs, Hrax's plasma pistol taking the banner-bearer even as she tried to struggle to her feet, left arm blown away by the Punisher shells and now her head, face, shoulders melting away in the incandescent blaze of light.
Another bolt round, this time the smaller calibre of a bolt pistol winging it's way overhead, and Hrax looked behind the melting corpse, where there stood his prize. The Cannoness of this minor, backwater order, her armour chipped and scored with bullet-marks, casting aside the empty pistol as she descended upon them, screaming an amplified battle-cry that tore the silence asunder. Hrax snarled, battlecry-to battle cry, and rushed to meet her, screaming defiance as they brought up their power swords to duel.
It was over in a moment. With a hateful, contemptuous sneer, Hrax parried her first, wild blow, sidestepping her rush, and in a fluid, cool motion, lopped off her head.
|
|
|
Post by Adam Selene on Jul 2, 2011 13:06:17 GMT -5
Typical First Company.
Nice to see the Mercenaries are still with us.
|
|
|
Post by Gabriel Lupus on Jul 3, 2011 17:24:14 GMT -5
It's all in the little details - the small nuances of human behaviour that you remember to put in that turn the characters into "real" three dimensional characters.
|
|
|
Post by Jackal-0311 on Jul 4, 2011 0:49:38 GMT -5
Great work RT! Keep it coming.
|
|
|
Post by Adam Selene on Nov 29, 2011 1:18:50 GMT -5
Ok, even if the mercenaries aren't getting as many updates as they used to I think we should pin the page.
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Nov 29, 2011 3:19:41 GMT -5
Sorry guys, it's just really hard to keep writing. A lot of my creativity is going into other projects (mostly work-related these days). I have been sketching out some ideas for "The Mercenaries: Genesis" (Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the Power of the Warp), so that may be coming along. Or I may relocate them to a universe of my own making so I can play around with them even more.
|
|
|
Post by Lord General Armstrong on Nov 29, 2011 5:03:47 GMT -5
I just want to say I have been reading this for several days and have only now caught up, it is incredible and I must say your scenes are well written and engaging. Now all we need is for Drang to fight several contingents of Corilithian Guardsmen clad in carapace armour and armed with their modified lasguns. Then for him to take on some Kai-Tan guardsmen with there advanced CAS suits and hellguns.
|
|
|
Post by Rolling Thunder on Aug 10, 2012 21:09:41 GMT -5
In the hell of dust, and clouds, and smoke, the rising sun cold as steel in the filthy air, Vixen simply waved her wings.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you and goodnight!" she cried, as she turned her Vulture away, and gunned the 'burners. Below her, Hrax saluted, power sword raised to the sky like a pagan king of old, as the warcry of the 1st matched her engines decibel for decibel.
To describe their forward surge as some great, heroic charge, bayonets fixed and the word of the Emperor on their lips, would be an utter lie. It was professional, fireteams breaking and dashing from cover to cover, as heavy weapons and the Valkyries flattened defensive position after defensive position, Iron Wing circling the field in slow, precise figures-of-eights, co-ordinating each pulverizing concentration of fire with the languid, aristocratic disdain only a Mordian general could bring to an operation.
"And this" he said, taking a luxuriant moment to lecture his subordinates, "this is how you break a man. And once you can break men, you can break an army. And an army of fearful men is a dragon with a broken spine" he concluded. "Yyvast, Duev, break left and engage enemy heavy weapons, fourth floor" he interjected.
"Once we've driven them from the square, then, gentlemen, they will have no-where to run. And then" he said, primarily addressing himself to Eliss, "then we will have them, with nowhere to run but the open plain, and awaiting death.
"Aye sir" she said, acknowledging the old man's wisdom, while slightly wishing he would not wax quite so lyrical on the subject. A former Battle Sister, she regarded war as nothing more than a means to an end - previously, faith, now, mere survival. The artistry, the craft, the elegant appreciation as you would fine opera, or wine or indeed lovers, was lost on her. All she saw was killing, and the breaking of the spirit, and the most efficient way to do both.
"Sir, drones are reporting aerospace contact. Trans-orbital, coming in hot. It appears to be an Imperial Assault Ship, HMS Ticocondria."
"Good Emperor" whispered Von Luckner. "An Assault Ship? They must be desperate indeed" he said, thumbing the transmit button on the comms.
"All units, all units. Air Superiority lost, I repeat, Air Superiority has been lost. Imperial Assault Ship is hotdropping the city. All aerial units withdraw to your assigned Forward Operating Bases. All ground units, dig in and hold them off. Dig in and hold them off. You know the drill gentlemen" he said, as he felt his Valkyrie swing around, watching the first resupply and casevac flights arc past him in flagrant defiance of his order, even as HMS Ticocondria appeared visible in the morning sky, glowing like Lucifer himself.
|
|