Interested in this. How open is the background lore to new additions or contributions? How many people is this being capped at?
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In
Shattered Stars - A Space Opera [Open for more players - Someone please join Karbana Kinnis... it's lonely there]
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4 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Usually the gulf that sat between the Foundry and the Imperivm was a quiet place in an intergalactic sense. The loose clusters of worlds belonging to some vague, warring set of worlds could not be counted upon to become much with how long that civil war had been going on. Had it ended in someone’s favour perhaps? Human presence in the form of space stations and starcraft still patrolled its exospace but something had changed. The Ascendancy that had ruled them for long was defined by bright gold, whites, and deep blues but these rigid, boxy craft had gone for something fierier as of late. Striking streaks of red, night black, and even moments of motley green defined them now, greater in number since the war seemed to drone into a footnote of irrelevance on the grand scale – the internal politics of lesser kingdoms, like the ambient buzzing of swarming flies amidst a brutal and uncaring universe. It was something that should be beyond the interests of the Dominion and competing would-be empires making their grand power games – nobodies were a dime a trillion.
Yet even independent vessels passing amongst this grand cluster of worlds noted that perhaps such dismissal was not entirely well founded. The bush fires of flame thinned and retreated to increasingly isolated portions. The strange floating monoliths of flesh, metal, vegetation, and shimmering ethereal matter fired their beams at one another less and less and moreso on those bearing the colours of the old regime. The violence had not vanished but it was diminishing, forced into smaller spaces as the multicoloured vessels of eldritch, alien construction joined with those of humanity’s architectural rigidity. Away from the prying eyes of warlords, tyrants, aristocrats, and alien consciousnesses something stirred amongst once besieged soils. A new unity born from a common heritage of suffering and defiance; hands of chitin, bone, mycelia, and cartilage, all clasped around the same goal and throttling the same throat of a hated, now vanquished enemy. The Ascendancy was no more but the distant echoes of the last hidden holdouts and their misguided remnants battling amongst the civil wars they had engineered up in their cruel wake.
Beyond their boundaries and into the warp gates, the strange ships that seemed as much arthropod or fungoid as they did machine voyaged forth – the largest movement of vessels beyond their boundaries since the days of the now deposed human empire that ruled them. Movement was fast with the wormholes, the fleets of mismatched fleets joined by strange shapes far more than merely bestial – they moved with the fluid, predatory animation of the great star-faring devourers of the myth. These creatures dwarfed many of their smaller ships, some of which even outclassed their capital vessels in size, layered not only in their natural scales, shells, and exoskeletons but bristling weaponry and armour integrated into their bioluminescent forms – spiny, plated, jagged, sweeping hungrily for targets. They moved in formation with the rest of the vessels as a group of coordinated predators in a silent drift.
Some of them would spread outwards towards the three wormhole points between the NIRC and the Imperivm. Their quarry was elusive, rightfully so. The Ascendancy after all, had been removed but not obliterated and ever since their departure from what was now the territory of the Nexus of Integrated Revolutionary Councils, they had sworn a revenge and bristled with an incessant vitriol. It was more than angry sputtering of fallen lords and kings; the still murky boundaries of the Nexus were easy for the old regime’s most fanatic to drift through and within, find those who still praised the gilded hand of iron and the uplifting divinity of their reign. If not that, then joining the civil wars to further the last raging embers of internecine civil war would do. Some of the Nexus’ war-forged legions desired revenge, others simply a ceasing of hostilities, but it was clear that the problem would not solve itself. Power was always waiting to flow from the barrel of a gun – a ship mounted plasma cannon and an electrobiological auto-rifle fulfilled the same function.
Another group, slightly larger in size but not quite a full-on invasion fleet, had neared Karbana Kinis, circling around its northwestern hemisphere as they fanned out over the labyrinthine world. The floating, drifting fragments of mechanized planet looked almost like reeds or stones, hiding whatever secrets it could from the eldritch hungers and curiosities behind the fleet. It would be a mistake to claim they were strangers to this planet. Traces of their own could be found here whether in the distant past or the antediluvian one. Settlers and explorers from times before both the Nexus and the Ascendancy, vanished somewhere into the chasmic depths and the scattered surface plating.
The enormous bioweapons did not appear to have the hesitation of the sapients who commanded them. They slowly drifted in descent as gravity tugged them close enough to be halfway towards the outermost layers of the atmosphere. Shadowy entities of serpentine and decapod shape scoured the realm with skulls tapered and triangular, hyper-evolved senses adapted to stalking through cyberspace and the blackness between the stars augmented by powerful syncretic technologies fusing human, tarrhaidim, gealtirocht, and vrexul and attaching it to the sensory organs of these creatures. Antennae large enough to slice smaller ships in two, energy-reactive glands pulsing with an ominous sickly light, taste-buds wired to olfactory-analytic networks, even additional eyes maintained by nanobot and symbiote colonies, piercing metal with their gaze as information was slowly drip fed back to their handlers. This was an occupied world after all; they did not wish to become the same as the conquerors and tyrants they had overthrown. It would be treated well for its secrets.
In
Shattered Stars - A Space Opera [Open for more players - Someone please join Karbana Kinnis... it's lonely there]
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4 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Nexus of Integrated Revolutionary Councils
Also known as: Jednota Propojených Shromáždění Lidí
[ENG: The Unity of the Interconnected People's Assemblies]
[ENG: The Unity of the Interconnected People's Assemblies]
Overview:
Structure:
Beliefs:
Technology:
Military:
General Organization:
Section 1 - Space Forces:
Section 2 - Ground Forces:
Subsection 1 - Infantry:
Subsection 2 - Vehicles:
Subsection 3 - Constructs and Bioweapons:
---
Sapient Alien Species of the NIRC
Vrexul
Gealtirocht
Tarrhaidim
It wasn’t long before the six team members were hurried onto the armoured transports as the molten wreck of the gun-platform smouldered and sputtered. The black smoke rose ominously as the heavy, thudding footsteps and crumbling of enormous trees continued. Something massive was nearing – a vague shape throughout the treeline, glanced by the Dolsilvec troopers as their weapons tracked the enormous shadowy outline of its movements and the vegetation that crunched and tumbled in its wake. Lesser infantry would’ve long since opened fire – their missile launchers and high output beam guns would’ve made short work of most but the peace they maintained, perfunctory as it was, still had its value. One of the troopers gestured off to another standing by a series of boxy, bumpy protrusions emerging from a pod-like object out of which a cluster of jagged, pointed antennae. The equipment operator nodded, punching a few buttons.
As one of the troopers reached into their cargo components, passing what looked like a malleable plastic bag of rehydrating fluid-gel, he paused to look through the still open door. The pointed antennae began to shudder like insect legs of some chirping, squeaking species and a piercing, sharp whine began to fill the air. For a second one would think it was drowning out the stomping of the unseen juggernaut but in reality but its steps had slowed, from lurching crunching stomps to a slow scraping, drag against the forest floor. That would be difficult to hear with the sudden static buzz creeping through the Sect-team’s coms and the trooper attempting to help Buerra. He fumbled, nearly dropping the package as he shut off his coms momentarily, mumbling an apology as he passed the refreshing package. It was as if the weather has worsened abruptly or some sort of interference was directly targeting them – the other Dolsilvec troopers had had the fortune to have disabled theirs earlier avoid the annoyance. Only the shrill voice of the jamming device continued before its pointed tips began to slide back into its body and its dense body was picked up and hauled back into one of the APC’s.
“Tempting to hang you outside like cargo but no,” Yrilovan replied to as he stood at the middle, one of his arms grasping handles on the ceiling of the vehicle’s interior. “There isn’t even enough of you to use as reactive armour.”
The rest of the troopers didn’t seem to move but the heads of a few shook and bobbled somewhat – faint laughter audible behind their visors, slightly glowing as the lights flickered and the interior darkened. The doors were quickly closing but before they had done so, the vehicles were already moving, rumbling over the hilled ground and through the streets of Kerovnia.
In the close quarters of the armoured personnel carriers, the team was able to get a closer look at their newfound allies. They were Dolsilvec troopers and beyond Yrilovan, there didn’t seem to be other celaderaka. For eyes adapting to lower light conditions, their visors weren’t completely opaque. Faces could be seen behind the tinted glass, some eyeless and veiny eyeless masses above jagged teeth and others clearly human. They were professional soldiers –selectively kitted firearms, well-kept armour devoid of scratches or cannibalized parts, and a number of bandoliers, pouches, and blade-sheaths across their bodies. For a Regimist troopers at this stage of the conflict, they were considerably more well supplied than most.
The one who had passed Paris the gel-pack sat back and crossed and tapped his foot, giving a quizzical look at the air that blurred through his ventilation.
“Is that Pact equipment? You were clearly in the shitter if you were drafted into their schemes.” He commented almost casually. His voice had been filtered through a masking device – it grated and grinded, the words tinged with metallic edge and tone. “I have served with them before, joint operations before they decided to play kingmaker with different generals here on Chalgheol – hardy people but I wonder how they have survived this long, scraping by with designs as primitive and factory-pumped as their personalities.”
Given the lumbering size of his armour, it was difficult for it not to catch the attention of the squad of comparatively smaller humanoids. Vin’s appearance however, was not lost on them either. His armour hid his voidhanger characteristics but it wasn’t through visual cues that the tarrhaidimg trooper’s featureless head seemed to scan him, tinted a sickly bluish green through its visor.
It raised one of its long, gloved fingers and tapped against its other arm, cranking its back and forth in rigid, robotic motions – its fingers all moving independently, mimicking the jointed limbs of factory-based manufacturing robots as they tapped and scratched against its padding-armoured limb.
The voidhanger would be able to detect the readings of a scan passing over his body – his synthetic arm was being scanned, analysed, and a tinge of ether was detected in the air, emerging from the tarrhaidim. Across from him on the opposite corner of the APC, one of the humans had turned his visor towards him, analysing the complex electronics of his prosthetic limb or at least trying to.
The tarrhaidim sititng directly across from him leaned forward, its crag-mouth full of grotesque teeth somehow not moving as it spoke – a gargled series of wet, frothing gurgles thankfully partially muted through its speakers. Vin’s programs would be able to roughly translate what he was saying.
[Tarrhaidim] “Paid well, yes? Your arm – my friend likes it.” He gestured off with a nod towards the human then looked back to Vin, “Voidhanger, adventurous, maybe too much. I thought prosthetics killed you – your body hates all things not touched by Abzu. Well dressed – not guerilla yes? So many of you, little more than flies following the excrement-reek from the Traitor-Armies, I would think like regressions of humanity rather than evolutions.”
He paused to make a particularly unpleasant slurping sound, slowed down as if being digitally processed. A few more followed him, joined by humans grunting and cursing in agreement.
As the trip dragged on, Yrilovan turned to Linus, his gaze tangible through the steely orange visor. The Laguna operative was the only other celaderaka he noticed sent alongside them.
[Celderakan] “I hope Laguna pays you enough to be their attack dog.” He commented without even looking at Linus, causing a few of his subordinates to abruptly quiet themselves or switch to their private com channels. “I remember you – not that we met, but I saw you on our drone feeds once, aerial reconnaissance over one of the smaller towns. That was you, on that rescue operation, wasn’t it? You fight well, even when near death’s doorsteps. Your clan hierarchs back in the *Bindarang Perhungan would have granted you great gifts for bravery, perhaps breeding stock too for the continuation of bloodline, something the rest of the rebel upstarts have discarded. Certainly more than what another independent militia can scrounge up. Did you even have proper doctors?”
Over in another APC, the other voidhanger was drawing some strange looks. An onlooker wouldn’t be able to tell but peeking in on their com channels or amplifying the sound of whispers between a few of them and it was clear that some of the Dolsilvec troopers had doubts about the second voidhanger being with them – one whose armour was clearly that of an infiltrator.
“Probably some pirate, no, a thief and an infiltrator. There is a market for void-snakes like them.” One of them, a prosthetic-eyed human, murmured quietly over a seemingly-closed coms channel to his compatriot as he glanced at Silver. “I was with exospace marines, half of our job was dealing with these cockroaches. Their fleet elders were always crowding around our space stations stations and begging for work and rent, but it is these marauders they always hide amongst their own that first to slip a knife in your back the second you reached over to hand the contract. That is how we got into hostage scenarios, when t-”
“Oi, you a privateer?” Another human called out, turning off his voice filter to address Silver loud and clear. “Real nice suit ya got my friend, piece it together yourself or snatch it off some convoy huh? Don’t try and get away and say you’re homo-sapien, everyone felt that abzu-tinge once you walked into the vehicle and I know that isn’t just qillatu residual.”
He stopped rather abruptly, one of the tarrhaidim grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. He didn’t need to say why, simply giving the lumbering Zsresrinn and the austere Corsica a quick glance.
“Probably friends – detritus eater and detritus dweller…” The tarrhaidim murmured in English as quietly as possible, his voice abruptly raising as he turned to Corsica, reddish ocular veins visible through its visor at it glared at her. “That Nova-Pura-Shithole lady though? I bet even they don’t like her. Sadistic terrorists, burn a whole hospital down, just to knock off some no-name bio-con…”
They sat down, keeping their hand gripped tight on his rifle. Yet the fungoid wasn’t done yet.
“Answer me, you brain-dead cunt. I know you're listening in, fucking garbage in biped form, how you get treated as a protected religious organization in some systems before going off to lynch some nobodies on some impoverished backwater huh? Go on and explain how killing off photosynthesizer-power plants is supposed to protect us, when you aren’t lynching our sporelings for having 1% too many foreign biomass augs. Maybe you just like the thrill or your high priest unzips first before they let you-“
This time, one of his squadmates audibly smacked him in the gut, drawing a growl as he doubled over before he stopped, but not before looking over to Zsresrinn.
“I know you probably think us Dolsilvecs are a bunh of washed-up has-beens holding onto tatters you crusty lump, but trust me, this pyro-twat will stick that gun barrel to the back of your skull the second those next-gen bioweapons of yours lead to mass produced augs in a few months if you’re stuck with us for that long. Mark my words, the Sect doesn’t mean shit to them.”
As the banter continued, the convoy began to slow. A few of the soldiers involved would begin to draw away from whatever was being conversed as Yrilovan opened the door to the driver’s section, exchanging a few difficult words to make out. It was like this for a few minutes with the gun turrets able to be heard rapidly swiveling as opposed to the slow, pleasantly subtle drone of their movement earlier while the convoy was moving more rapidly. The APC convoy was slowing down Yrilovan stepped back out, looking over at his squad and then Linus, Paris, and Vin.
“We’re getting out. This is the location but the terrain is a bit rough. Once your friends arrive to link up with you, we’re done here as far as I’m concerned.” He stepped forward as the door lowered, a pair of large PDW-sized blaster-cannons in each hand. The rest of the troops filed out rapidly, all the raunchiness and roughness replaced with cold, steel-eyed militancy as they swept around the area.
The other three APC’s fanned out, spreading out as their contents disembarked and began to sweep out to secure the area around a small power-generator of some sort next to a tall column-structure with the segmented build of something almost like a human spine. Vegetation had crept into its crevices and along the flat surfaces of the generator but there were few signs of habitation.
Quickly, the Dolsilvec Regime infantry began to spread out, their weapons hunting for any sign of movement as they surrounded the spinal-structure and the generator, falling into a layered defensive circle around the convoy. The APC’s had moved off near the sides, partially concealed by a few old, collapsed trees and heavy foliage. Only the tips of their barrels graced the edges of the treeline.
A waterfall could be seen a few metres off to the back, its top scoured by one of the vehicle’s turrets before it froze on a certain spot on. A few of the troops abruptly called it out, transmitting to the target location to the east of the waterfall. Just a few feet away, a few figures could be seen moving through a gap in the treeline, framed amongst the dense green in their armour and fatigues. They wore green cloaks, long rifles peeking out from underneath, and their circular goggles gave them the appearance of a semi-insectoid biped, even if they appeared to be human themselves.
They waved to the Dolsilvecs, revealing more of their colours – the lighter Kevlar-esque armour and relatively less outlandish rifles were the calling signs of their military. A few more turrets swivelled and the sound of crunching footsteps and the distant treads of more vehicles followed. The soldiers turned sharp to see another two APC’s enter, flanked by soldiers in bulkier fully form-protecting armour.
Yrilovan motioned to them and walked forwards a few steps, stopping by the generator as he raised his palm. A few of the others had their rifles raised half-cautiously – there was always the chance for defector divisions, especially those that counted themselves amongst not only the Carnazir but the League and the Pact as well.
They weren’t Sect troopers from what anyone could see. That wasn't the armour type.
Yrilovan simply stood there, his hand raised as some sort of digital communication was exchanged. Peeking into his suit systems, they were a series of scans, checking registries, armour insignia, and cross-referencing databases. The gulf between the two groups was large and it was clear that there was a tension between them.
One of the troopers next to Zsresrinn nudged the insect, partially shielding herself with their huge body.
“Are they yours? We were told it would be Sect who would be coordinating.” She asked, looking off to a few others who had been quietly spreading out. A few of the turrets had turned away from those by the waterfall… but they hadn’t exactly stopped facing them either.
One of the troopers, the tarrhaidim who’d been speaking to Silver earlier, tapped the voidhanger on the shoulder. His coms were off and he whispered to the post-human.
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd their scouts simply hailed us like that? No radio signals, nothing? They just popped up out of the woods and rolled in, not even in their APC’s.”
One of the other tarrhaidim, the same one that had been angrily trading at Corsica earlier, could subtly be seen slipping into some of the bushes. He had a launcher, underslung on his rifle, and was busy changing out the munition type. A dull green HE shell was exchanged for another – white tipped and with a warning sign showing a sphere fragmenting into countless smaller ones.
That’s when Yrilovan, still communicating with the approaching Dolsilvecs, abruptly requested a com channel to the Sect squad, buzzing to their coms.
-- My on-board AI is handling it but I need you all to come clean. Just who were you told you were meeting up with? We were under the impression you would be briefed when here but another Dolsilvec team? We weren’t told about that. –
It seemed at least, that some progress was being made. A figure emerged from the back of one of the APC’s as the standoff seemed to end – wearing the same armour type as Yrilovan but a bit smoother and denser – its mouth visible and based on the rough, fleshy gnarliness it was a tarrhaidim. The armoured troops were casually walking forth as Yrilovan waved off at his squad, causing them to loosen up as the groups convened around the area.
-- I don’t have much time – that’s their leader walking out. He’s from a fortress-battalion just a few clicks away from Kerovnia, I’ve served with him before, but I wasn’t told anything about him joining us. Something has changed or someone else knows. --
And it was a rather tall Tarrhaidim too – one with a large sheathed blade against its hip, easily a few inches taller than Linus and grinning from side to side. A jovial grin really, one that seemed rather at ease. The tall fungoid moved toward to shake hands with Yrilovan as the armoured troopers strolled through the settlement, exchanging pleasantries with their comrades.
If they all looked over to near the waterfall, the cloaked scout troopers had begun leaving, beginning to visually melt into the woods as they moved on ahead.
The huge leader of this small platoon however, didn’t spend long with his celaderaka counterpart, moving towards the Sect team.
“I apologize for not getting here earlier – we were bogged down as we got here.” He spoke, taking a short bow and muttering something in tarrhaidim under his breath. What could be made out seemed to be a prayer of some sort – “spore moon” was mentioned. “The Sect contacted us a few hours ago. We were told to secure a rendez-vous point in the woods, just a few clicks away from Kerovnia. Scenic place – enough that we decided we didn’t mind going on foot given the relative closeness. We have trundled along inside those transports for weeks. A hike does a soldier good.”
He paused for a moment, looking over at the mismatched group of soldiers before back at Yrilovan.
“Yrilovan, he hasn’t told you too much hasn’t he? I don’t blame him. Top secret Sect happenings correct? It is not for my non-existent nose to poke into.” He chuckled, looking over towards Paris, pausing for a few moments before looking over at Corsica.
“Interesting party you have. Usually they…” He paused for a few moments, turning his head towards Zsresrinn. “Oh? Just one? You are from… Ugnost, was it? I’ve heard of you – my, marvellous specimen you are. I had heard of a vrexul or two being assigned to look after a few of our remaining assets. Momentous occasion truly, if you were reassigned from that.”
Yrilovan could be speaking with a few of the soldiers and while his body language was calm, something about the troops seemed to be tense. One of them was gesturing at him, fist raised and moving it against his palm and another was pointing out to a few dirt paths through the woods, leading up towards hillier terrain.
The tall celaderaka however, could very faintly be heard. He wasn’t quite shouting but he was talking loudly. His voice was masked by his armour’s speakers, blurring it partially to the extent it couldn’t be made out from the current distance of the Sect squad.
Another group of them were chatting with the troopers near the back of one of the APC’s – one was occupying the driver on the side with chat and cigarettes as another slipped in and out of it quickly, waving at his squad-mate before moving to the generator, poking around the small communication module to its right as he stood on its moss-covered steps.
Yrilovan’s head turned towards the Sect members before he went back seemingly to arguing with the Dolsilvec troopers. One of them had a long white axe in his hands, tapping it against the ground.
“How rude of myself to come in unannounced and unaccounted for on another note,” The tarrhaidim commander continued. “Gourlan Karzai – section commander for the local Sprawls’ mountain base. Not much of it now – this here is a backwater. I’m rather envious of Yrilovan – he was assigned to one of the more exciting theatres, only pulled over here a few weeks back. He never did tell me what he was preparing for during the strategic meetings but the ‘draka knows how to present a surprise no?”
As he spoke, there was a very slight smell to him that wasn’t quite fungoid earthiness. It was an odd mix of something metallic and burnt. It was clear he had seen combat before – old blastmarks on his armour and a few residual burns along his backside but they seemed fairly old. Some of the splotches seemed to fade into his faded if rough, segmented armour.
“You wouldn’t happen to be carrying any additional ammo by the way, would you?” He asked to Paris. “You look like someone who prefers their calibres more substantial. We barely had time when we were called out to properly resupply after our last patrol – chop chop, we were told, and before we knew it, we were proudly now under the command of the Sect.”
He continued to grin, his teeth almost human if not for the almost shark-tooth like appearance and the fact he didn’t seem to have a tongue in there.
Yrilovan was turning away from those he was conversing with, walking quickly to one of the APC’s but he turned around the corner of the generator and back towards a different APC, then towards some foliage. The foliage one the tarrhaidim trooper who’d been changing his grenade launcher had been hiding in – now sitting about, appearing to be simply maintaining his rifle.
He seemed to be trying to hide momentarily – the rest of his squads were conversing with the armoured troopers, who hadn’t seemed to catch sight of him as he walked off.
Yet he wasn’t opening his private channel either.
A few of them could be seen moving to the river, soaking up their canteens with water but if one listened very closely, there was a sizzling sound. Some of them stood guard, partially blocking their sight as the others momentarily dunked their gear into the water, scrubbing them off and washing off anything that might have gotten stuck on them. A bit of steam could be seen rising, almost like smoking barrels as they stepped in.
It appeared to have been a busy day for both groups.
As one of the troopers reached into their cargo components, passing what looked like a malleable plastic bag of rehydrating fluid-gel, he paused to look through the still open door. The pointed antennae began to shudder like insect legs of some chirping, squeaking species and a piercing, sharp whine began to fill the air. For a second one would think it was drowning out the stomping of the unseen juggernaut but in reality but its steps had slowed, from lurching crunching stomps to a slow scraping, drag against the forest floor. That would be difficult to hear with the sudden static buzz creeping through the Sect-team’s coms and the trooper attempting to help Buerra. He fumbled, nearly dropping the package as he shut off his coms momentarily, mumbling an apology as he passed the refreshing package. It was as if the weather has worsened abruptly or some sort of interference was directly targeting them – the other Dolsilvec troopers had had the fortune to have disabled theirs earlier avoid the annoyance. Only the shrill voice of the jamming device continued before its pointed tips began to slide back into its body and its dense body was picked up and hauled back into one of the APC’s.
“Tempting to hang you outside like cargo but no,” Yrilovan replied to as he stood at the middle, one of his arms grasping handles on the ceiling of the vehicle’s interior. “There isn’t even enough of you to use as reactive armour.”
The rest of the troopers didn’t seem to move but the heads of a few shook and bobbled somewhat – faint laughter audible behind their visors, slightly glowing as the lights flickered and the interior darkened. The doors were quickly closing but before they had done so, the vehicles were already moving, rumbling over the hilled ground and through the streets of Kerovnia.
In the close quarters of the armoured personnel carriers, the team was able to get a closer look at their newfound allies. They were Dolsilvec troopers and beyond Yrilovan, there didn’t seem to be other celaderaka. For eyes adapting to lower light conditions, their visors weren’t completely opaque. Faces could be seen behind the tinted glass, some eyeless and veiny eyeless masses above jagged teeth and others clearly human. They were professional soldiers –selectively kitted firearms, well-kept armour devoid of scratches or cannibalized parts, and a number of bandoliers, pouches, and blade-sheaths across their bodies. For a Regimist troopers at this stage of the conflict, they were considerably more well supplied than most.
The one who had passed Paris the gel-pack sat back and crossed and tapped his foot, giving a quizzical look at the air that blurred through his ventilation.
“Is that Pact equipment? You were clearly in the shitter if you were drafted into their schemes.” He commented almost casually. His voice had been filtered through a masking device – it grated and grinded, the words tinged with metallic edge and tone. “I have served with them before, joint operations before they decided to play kingmaker with different generals here on Chalgheol – hardy people but I wonder how they have survived this long, scraping by with designs as primitive and factory-pumped as their personalities.”
Given the lumbering size of his armour, it was difficult for it not to catch the attention of the squad of comparatively smaller humanoids. Vin’s appearance however, was not lost on them either. His armour hid his voidhanger characteristics but it wasn’t through visual cues that the tarrhaidimg trooper’s featureless head seemed to scan him, tinted a sickly bluish green through its visor.
It raised one of its long, gloved fingers and tapped against its other arm, cranking its back and forth in rigid, robotic motions – its fingers all moving independently, mimicking the jointed limbs of factory-based manufacturing robots as they tapped and scratched against its padding-armoured limb.
The voidhanger would be able to detect the readings of a scan passing over his body – his synthetic arm was being scanned, analysed, and a tinge of ether was detected in the air, emerging from the tarrhaidim. Across from him on the opposite corner of the APC, one of the humans had turned his visor towards him, analysing the complex electronics of his prosthetic limb or at least trying to.
The tarrhaidim sititng directly across from him leaned forward, its crag-mouth full of grotesque teeth somehow not moving as it spoke – a gargled series of wet, frothing gurgles thankfully partially muted through its speakers. Vin’s programs would be able to roughly translate what he was saying.
[Tarrhaidim] “Paid well, yes? Your arm – my friend likes it.” He gestured off with a nod towards the human then looked back to Vin, “Voidhanger, adventurous, maybe too much. I thought prosthetics killed you – your body hates all things not touched by Abzu. Well dressed – not guerilla yes? So many of you, little more than flies following the excrement-reek from the Traitor-Armies, I would think like regressions of humanity rather than evolutions.”
He paused to make a particularly unpleasant slurping sound, slowed down as if being digitally processed. A few more followed him, joined by humans grunting and cursing in agreement.
As the trip dragged on, Yrilovan turned to Linus, his gaze tangible through the steely orange visor. The Laguna operative was the only other celaderaka he noticed sent alongside them.
[Celderakan] “I hope Laguna pays you enough to be their attack dog.” He commented without even looking at Linus, causing a few of his subordinates to abruptly quiet themselves or switch to their private com channels. “I remember you – not that we met, but I saw you on our drone feeds once, aerial reconnaissance over one of the smaller towns. That was you, on that rescue operation, wasn’t it? You fight well, even when near death’s doorsteps. Your clan hierarchs back in the *Bindarang Perhungan would have granted you great gifts for bravery, perhaps breeding stock too for the continuation of bloodline, something the rest of the rebel upstarts have discarded. Certainly more than what another independent militia can scrounge up. Did you even have proper doctors?”
+++
Over in another APC, the other voidhanger was drawing some strange looks. An onlooker wouldn’t be able to tell but peeking in on their com channels or amplifying the sound of whispers between a few of them and it was clear that some of the Dolsilvec troopers had doubts about the second voidhanger being with them – one whose armour was clearly that of an infiltrator.
“Probably some pirate, no, a thief and an infiltrator. There is a market for void-snakes like them.” One of them, a prosthetic-eyed human, murmured quietly over a seemingly-closed coms channel to his compatriot as he glanced at Silver. “I was with exospace marines, half of our job was dealing with these cockroaches. Their fleet elders were always crowding around our space stations stations and begging for work and rent, but it is these marauders they always hide amongst their own that first to slip a knife in your back the second you reached over to hand the contract. That is how we got into hostage scenarios, when t-”
“Oi, you a privateer?” Another human called out, turning off his voice filter to address Silver loud and clear. “Real nice suit ya got my friend, piece it together yourself or snatch it off some convoy huh? Don’t try and get away and say you’re homo-sapien, everyone felt that abzu-tinge once you walked into the vehicle and I know that isn’t just qillatu residual.”
He stopped rather abruptly, one of the tarrhaidim grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. He didn’t need to say why, simply giving the lumbering Zsresrinn and the austere Corsica a quick glance.
“Probably friends – detritus eater and detritus dweller…” The tarrhaidim murmured in English as quietly as possible, his voice abruptly raising as he turned to Corsica, reddish ocular veins visible through its visor at it glared at her. “That Nova-Pura-Shithole lady though? I bet even they don’t like her. Sadistic terrorists, burn a whole hospital down, just to knock off some no-name bio-con…”
They sat down, keeping their hand gripped tight on his rifle. Yet the fungoid wasn’t done yet.
“Answer me, you brain-dead cunt. I know you're listening in, fucking garbage in biped form, how you get treated as a protected religious organization in some systems before going off to lynch some nobodies on some impoverished backwater huh? Go on and explain how killing off photosynthesizer-power plants is supposed to protect us, when you aren’t lynching our sporelings for having 1% too many foreign biomass augs. Maybe you just like the thrill or your high priest unzips first before they let you-“
This time, one of his squadmates audibly smacked him in the gut, drawing a growl as he doubled over before he stopped, but not before looking over to Zsresrinn.
“I know you probably think us Dolsilvecs are a bunh of washed-up has-beens holding onto tatters you crusty lump, but trust me, this pyro-twat will stick that gun barrel to the back of your skull the second those next-gen bioweapons of yours lead to mass produced augs in a few months if you’re stuck with us for that long. Mark my words, the Sect doesn’t mean shit to them.”
+++
As the banter continued, the convoy began to slow. A few of the soldiers involved would begin to draw away from whatever was being conversed as Yrilovan opened the door to the driver’s section, exchanging a few difficult words to make out. It was like this for a few minutes with the gun turrets able to be heard rapidly swiveling as opposed to the slow, pleasantly subtle drone of their movement earlier while the convoy was moving more rapidly. The APC convoy was slowing down Yrilovan stepped back out, looking over at his squad and then Linus, Paris, and Vin.
“We’re getting out. This is the location but the terrain is a bit rough. Once your friends arrive to link up with you, we’re done here as far as I’m concerned.” He stepped forward as the door lowered, a pair of large PDW-sized blaster-cannons in each hand. The rest of the troops filed out rapidly, all the raunchiness and roughness replaced with cold, steel-eyed militancy as they swept around the area.
The other three APC’s fanned out, spreading out as their contents disembarked and began to sweep out to secure the area around a small power-generator of some sort next to a tall column-structure with the segmented build of something almost like a human spine. Vegetation had crept into its crevices and along the flat surfaces of the generator but there were few signs of habitation.
Quickly, the Dolsilvec Regime infantry began to spread out, their weapons hunting for any sign of movement as they surrounded the spinal-structure and the generator, falling into a layered defensive circle around the convoy. The APC’s had moved off near the sides, partially concealed by a few old, collapsed trees and heavy foliage. Only the tips of their barrels graced the edges of the treeline.
A waterfall could be seen a few metres off to the back, its top scoured by one of the vehicle’s turrets before it froze on a certain spot on. A few of the troops abruptly called it out, transmitting to the target location to the east of the waterfall. Just a few feet away, a few figures could be seen moving through a gap in the treeline, framed amongst the dense green in their armour and fatigues. They wore green cloaks, long rifles peeking out from underneath, and their circular goggles gave them the appearance of a semi-insectoid biped, even if they appeared to be human themselves.
They waved to the Dolsilvecs, revealing more of their colours – the lighter Kevlar-esque armour and relatively less outlandish rifles were the calling signs of their military. A few more turrets swivelled and the sound of crunching footsteps and the distant treads of more vehicles followed. The soldiers turned sharp to see another two APC’s enter, flanked by soldiers in bulkier fully form-protecting armour.
Yrilovan motioned to them and walked forwards a few steps, stopping by the generator as he raised his palm. A few of the others had their rifles raised half-cautiously – there was always the chance for defector divisions, especially those that counted themselves amongst not only the Carnazir but the League and the Pact as well.
They weren’t Sect troopers from what anyone could see. That wasn't the armour type.
Yrilovan simply stood there, his hand raised as some sort of digital communication was exchanged. Peeking into his suit systems, they were a series of scans, checking registries, armour insignia, and cross-referencing databases. The gulf between the two groups was large and it was clear that there was a tension between them.
One of the troopers next to Zsresrinn nudged the insect, partially shielding herself with their huge body.
“Are they yours? We were told it would be Sect who would be coordinating.” She asked, looking off to a few others who had been quietly spreading out. A few of the turrets had turned away from those by the waterfall… but they hadn’t exactly stopped facing them either.
One of the troopers, the tarrhaidim who’d been speaking to Silver earlier, tapped the voidhanger on the shoulder. His coms were off and he whispered to the post-human.
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd their scouts simply hailed us like that? No radio signals, nothing? They just popped up out of the woods and rolled in, not even in their APC’s.”
One of the other tarrhaidim, the same one that had been angrily trading at Corsica earlier, could subtly be seen slipping into some of the bushes. He had a launcher, underslung on his rifle, and was busy changing out the munition type. A dull green HE shell was exchanged for another – white tipped and with a warning sign showing a sphere fragmenting into countless smaller ones.
That’s when Yrilovan, still communicating with the approaching Dolsilvecs, abruptly requested a com channel to the Sect squad, buzzing to their coms.
-- My on-board AI is handling it but I need you all to come clean. Just who were you told you were meeting up with? We were under the impression you would be briefed when here but another Dolsilvec team? We weren’t told about that. –
It seemed at least, that some progress was being made. A figure emerged from the back of one of the APC’s as the standoff seemed to end – wearing the same armour type as Yrilovan but a bit smoother and denser – its mouth visible and based on the rough, fleshy gnarliness it was a tarrhaidim. The armoured troops were casually walking forth as Yrilovan waved off at his squad, causing them to loosen up as the groups convened around the area.
-- I don’t have much time – that’s their leader walking out. He’s from a fortress-battalion just a few clicks away from Kerovnia, I’ve served with him before, but I wasn’t told anything about him joining us. Something has changed or someone else knows. --
And it was a rather tall Tarrhaidim too – one with a large sheathed blade against its hip, easily a few inches taller than Linus and grinning from side to side. A jovial grin really, one that seemed rather at ease. The tall fungoid moved toward to shake hands with Yrilovan as the armoured troopers strolled through the settlement, exchanging pleasantries with their comrades.
If they all looked over to near the waterfall, the cloaked scout troopers had begun leaving, beginning to visually melt into the woods as they moved on ahead.
The huge leader of this small platoon however, didn’t spend long with his celaderaka counterpart, moving towards the Sect team.
“I apologize for not getting here earlier – we were bogged down as we got here.” He spoke, taking a short bow and muttering something in tarrhaidim under his breath. What could be made out seemed to be a prayer of some sort – “spore moon” was mentioned. “The Sect contacted us a few hours ago. We were told to secure a rendez-vous point in the woods, just a few clicks away from Kerovnia. Scenic place – enough that we decided we didn’t mind going on foot given the relative closeness. We have trundled along inside those transports for weeks. A hike does a soldier good.”
He paused for a moment, looking over at the mismatched group of soldiers before back at Yrilovan.
“Yrilovan, he hasn’t told you too much hasn’t he? I don’t blame him. Top secret Sect happenings correct? It is not for my non-existent nose to poke into.” He chuckled, looking over towards Paris, pausing for a few moments before looking over at Corsica.
“Interesting party you have. Usually they…” He paused for a few moments, turning his head towards Zsresrinn. “Oh? Just one? You are from… Ugnost, was it? I’ve heard of you – my, marvellous specimen you are. I had heard of a vrexul or two being assigned to look after a few of our remaining assets. Momentous occasion truly, if you were reassigned from that.”
Yrilovan could be speaking with a few of the soldiers and while his body language was calm, something about the troops seemed to be tense. One of them was gesturing at him, fist raised and moving it against his palm and another was pointing out to a few dirt paths through the woods, leading up towards hillier terrain.
The tall celaderaka however, could very faintly be heard. He wasn’t quite shouting but he was talking loudly. His voice was masked by his armour’s speakers, blurring it partially to the extent it couldn’t be made out from the current distance of the Sect squad.
Another group of them were chatting with the troopers near the back of one of the APC’s – one was occupying the driver on the side with chat and cigarettes as another slipped in and out of it quickly, waving at his squad-mate before moving to the generator, poking around the small communication module to its right as he stood on its moss-covered steps.
Yrilovan’s head turned towards the Sect members before he went back seemingly to arguing with the Dolsilvec troopers. One of them had a long white axe in his hands, tapping it against the ground.
“How rude of myself to come in unannounced and unaccounted for on another note,” The tarrhaidim commander continued. “Gourlan Karzai – section commander for the local Sprawls’ mountain base. Not much of it now – this here is a backwater. I’m rather envious of Yrilovan – he was assigned to one of the more exciting theatres, only pulled over here a few weeks back. He never did tell me what he was preparing for during the strategic meetings but the ‘draka knows how to present a surprise no?”
As he spoke, there was a very slight smell to him that wasn’t quite fungoid earthiness. It was an odd mix of something metallic and burnt. It was clear he had seen combat before – old blastmarks on his armour and a few residual burns along his backside but they seemed fairly old. Some of the splotches seemed to fade into his faded if rough, segmented armour.
“You wouldn’t happen to be carrying any additional ammo by the way, would you?” He asked to Paris. “You look like someone who prefers their calibres more substantial. We barely had time when we were called out to properly resupply after our last patrol – chop chop, we were told, and before we knew it, we were proudly now under the command of the Sect.”
He continued to grin, his teeth almost human if not for the almost shark-tooth like appearance and the fact he didn’t seem to have a tongue in there.
Yrilovan was turning away from those he was conversing with, walking quickly to one of the APC’s but he turned around the corner of the generator and back towards a different APC, then towards some foliage. The foliage one the tarrhaidim trooper who’d been changing his grenade launcher had been hiding in – now sitting about, appearing to be simply maintaining his rifle.
He seemed to be trying to hide momentarily – the rest of his squads were conversing with the armoured troopers, who hadn’t seemed to catch sight of him as he walked off.
Yet he wasn’t opening his private channel either.
A few of them could be seen moving to the river, soaking up their canteens with water but if one listened very closely, there was a sizzling sound. Some of them stood guard, partially blocking their sight as the others momentarily dunked their gear into the water, scrubbing them off and washing off anything that might have gotten stuck on them. A bit of steam could be seen rising, almost like smoking barrels as they stepped in.
It appeared to have been a busy day for both groups.
In
Shattered Stars - A Space Opera [Open for more players - Someone please join Karbana Kinnis... it's lonely there]
→
4 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Nexus of Integrated Revolutionary Councils
Also known as: Jednota Propojených Shromáždění Lidí
[ENG: The Unity of the Interconnected People's Assemblies]
[ENG: The Unity of the Interconnected People's Assemblies]
Overview:
Structure:
Beliefs:
Technology:
Military:
General Organization:
Section 1 - Space Forces:
Section 2 - Ground Forces:
Subsection 1 - Infantry:
Subsection 2 - Vehicles:
Subsection 3 - Constructs and Bioweapons:
---
Sapient Alien Species of the NIRC
Vrexul
Gealtirocht
Tarrhaidim
Driven by pure murderous instinct; a puppet with the rabid intensity of a diseased hound, the gundrone was now a burning waste-pile that glared as it charged. Flames erupted out of the gaping wounds gouged by the Sect troopers, its own machine gun collapsed into the raging inferno slowly warping the weapon from the bottom up and rendering it a useless chunk. Vat-flesh bonded to composite metal was beginning to peel from its dense body across its flap-like arms, down its dense legs, as it began to turn a meaty charred brown, ignoring Vin as its unztadtlige handler shot it forward in a murderous charge.
Even the soldiers in the park could detect the sparking voidhanger as electrical readings combined with residual energy from the plasma burst lit him up but they weren’t paying that much attention to him. The huge hulk of a human in his armoured suit charged with ferocity equal to the bioconstruct, smashing into the construct with bone-shattering force. In its frenzied, dysfunctional state the machine stumbled forward, crashing against the burnt-out husk of a civilian truck and crushing the wrecked vehicle’s cargo component inwards – its own sheer momentum made it stumble faster than its internal balancing calibrators, currently melting, could correct.
A gout of flame vomited out of its wound, barely even singing Paris’ armour, as sparks began to crackled inside of it. Pops at first then flashes of light with harsh snapping sounds – its own rounds were starting to detonate as the vicious flames from Corsica’s weapon. The tubular gaze from the flaming tunnel glowered with more anger than its two eye stalks – one really, one of the detonating rounds had sliced another clean open as vaporizing regulative fluid wafted out of the wound and its shuddering flap arms pulled against the vehicle it had been cratered into.
Their stand-off was interrupted by an enormous glob of plasma, slamming into the ground behind where Paris had imagined, momentarily blocking Zsresrinn’s sight with a huge blossom of raging power. The blast of blue and white desecrated tortured metal, sending melting fragmentation spitting outwards before a wave of heat and force. Windows shattered and loose components flew outwards, scattering before the two like leaves in autumnal winds. The force was far more ruthless, shoving against Paris’ shield as if to usher him towards his doom.
The bio-machine’s controller had no such reservations about preserving the weapon. If it could at least take one of them, that was enough. With a tortured creak the nearly destroyed machine pulled its body out of the truck and staggered towards Paris with a drunkard’s urgence and imbalance. More sparking crackles and bolts of white shooting outwards like blips of light from its body – its unspent ammunition set off by the extreme heat. Loud beeping – the machine’s warning signals were going off as it lunged towards Paris, one arm flap simply falling off from the melting heat, its remaining eye peeling off of its limb, and from within its body, Paris could see the boxy magazines of its ammo starting to go white.
Just before it could make it to the halfway point, a scourging beam of light slammed into its body, melting off one of its flap arms and causing the machine to awkwardly stumble and stagger. It writhed and jerked, its electronics and control mechanisms sent into overdrive as the combined heat from the vrexul’s energy weapon rapidly melting its internal body and setting off the volatile munitions within.
In a blast of flame and heat, the machine’s body finally exploded. A storm of white spark-like bullets flew outwards in a deadly shrapnel like spray. It was but a fraction of the speed if they had been launched from its now shattered heavy machine gun but its devastation was clear. Vehicle husks shuddered and shook, car doors fell off, supporting components shattered and a few vehicles not already devastated by the mortar bombardment slumped with heavy thuds to the ground.
The final last-ditch effort of their assailants had been in vain but there was little time to breathe.
The soldiers at the park quickly lowered their guns, gesturing for the whole squad to join them. A few of them paused to watch Zsresrinn closely – one of them held what looked like a missile launcher but he paused when Silver made it in first. A few of them paused, looking almost ready to raise their weapons at Corsica – her heat signatures were off of the charts. It was clear that the bizarre mishmashed squadron was still a sight to many of them. Troopers further back were starting to move back to the APC’s as ominous frothing growls and shrieks, likely celaderaka mixed with tarrhaidim, called out over the sound of melting metal and stomping boots off in the distance. Whomever was hunting them was angry.
One of the soldiers stood a foot taller than the others – their armour made them featureless, beyond the light black overlapping ridges over a mixture of light and dark greys comprising a more flexible under armour. Larger wrist guards that featured fang-like tips sat on their wrists and a cape was visible around their waist, likely some sort of shielding for hidden thrusters of some sort. Their ridged helmet was imposing as they loomed before Silver, still dwarfed by Zsresrinn as he motioned for them to follow him as he walked towards the parked vehicles.
“Yirilovan Selekawael, loyalist to the bone.” The armoured figure called out, motioning to the rest of the Sect team to start boarding. “Captain within the Regime, Fortress Kerovnia just a few hours from here. Your leaders told us nothing about a hot landing when we were recruited for assistance. As far as the tasahnial* are concerned, our truce with them holds – they are not aware we crept in just under their noses. Hence the jammers – as far as they are concerned, this is a dead zone too close to our lines for them to near.”
He turned to look down the road, pausing as whatever scanning systems on his armour analysed the particulars of the situation.
“That group that ambushed you – they’re bottom feeding nobodies. Nobodies under the Carnazir, another misguided group of miscreants absorbed by the traitor-armies. The Kerovnian Separatist Alliance – failures before the war, failures lapping up the offal dropped their way by the benefactors.”
Already the APC’s were moving – turning away from the gate and towards a wall or rather, the crumbled powdery ruins of one. A few troops moved into the hefty troop storage components.
“They are however, failures with a direct line to the enforcers the Carnazir use to ensure party line and loyalty is well practiced here. They have been itching for an excuse to take our territory – and your friends, the hulking human I presume and the last motion signature out on the road, better get here faster unless he wants to shatter even the tattered illusion of peace we have now.”
One of the APC’s had moved towards the gate, rumbling down the road as it turned to open its door to them. Its turret swivelled tracking motion through the trees – no visual contact but it was clear they were cutting it close. Distantly, something could be heard stomping about in the woods and in its wake, trees could be heard tumbling to the ground. The troops inside wildly gestured at Paris and Vin – it was clear they were almost on borrowed time now.
“Once they get in, we’re hitting the jammer and blinding them. We’ve done it before; we’re a sneaky bunch when we want to be. With how things have gone south, we’re going to take you the other rendez-vous point. It’s clear by helping you, we might be targeted now as well.” Yrilovan concluded, jogging towards one of the APC’s – one that the Sect squad would notice had a rather unusual electrical signature, as if it was covered in a field of static.
The crunching of trees in the distance continued.
Even the soldiers in the park could detect the sparking voidhanger as electrical readings combined with residual energy from the plasma burst lit him up but they weren’t paying that much attention to him. The huge hulk of a human in his armoured suit charged with ferocity equal to the bioconstruct, smashing into the construct with bone-shattering force. In its frenzied, dysfunctional state the machine stumbled forward, crashing against the burnt-out husk of a civilian truck and crushing the wrecked vehicle’s cargo component inwards – its own sheer momentum made it stumble faster than its internal balancing calibrators, currently melting, could correct.
A gout of flame vomited out of its wound, barely even singing Paris’ armour, as sparks began to crackled inside of it. Pops at first then flashes of light with harsh snapping sounds – its own rounds were starting to detonate as the vicious flames from Corsica’s weapon. The tubular gaze from the flaming tunnel glowered with more anger than its two eye stalks – one really, one of the detonating rounds had sliced another clean open as vaporizing regulative fluid wafted out of the wound and its shuddering flap arms pulled against the vehicle it had been cratered into.
Their stand-off was interrupted by an enormous glob of plasma, slamming into the ground behind where Paris had imagined, momentarily blocking Zsresrinn’s sight with a huge blossom of raging power. The blast of blue and white desecrated tortured metal, sending melting fragmentation spitting outwards before a wave of heat and force. Windows shattered and loose components flew outwards, scattering before the two like leaves in autumnal winds. The force was far more ruthless, shoving against Paris’ shield as if to usher him towards his doom.
The bio-machine’s controller had no such reservations about preserving the weapon. If it could at least take one of them, that was enough. With a tortured creak the nearly destroyed machine pulled its body out of the truck and staggered towards Paris with a drunkard’s urgence and imbalance. More sparking crackles and bolts of white shooting outwards like blips of light from its body – its unspent ammunition set off by the extreme heat. Loud beeping – the machine’s warning signals were going off as it lunged towards Paris, one arm flap simply falling off from the melting heat, its remaining eye peeling off of its limb, and from within its body, Paris could see the boxy magazines of its ammo starting to go white.
Just before it could make it to the halfway point, a scourging beam of light slammed into its body, melting off one of its flap arms and causing the machine to awkwardly stumble and stagger. It writhed and jerked, its electronics and control mechanisms sent into overdrive as the combined heat from the vrexul’s energy weapon rapidly melting its internal body and setting off the volatile munitions within.
In a blast of flame and heat, the machine’s body finally exploded. A storm of white spark-like bullets flew outwards in a deadly shrapnel like spray. It was but a fraction of the speed if they had been launched from its now shattered heavy machine gun but its devastation was clear. Vehicle husks shuddered and shook, car doors fell off, supporting components shattered and a few vehicles not already devastated by the mortar bombardment slumped with heavy thuds to the ground.
The final last-ditch effort of their assailants had been in vain but there was little time to breathe.
The soldiers at the park quickly lowered their guns, gesturing for the whole squad to join them. A few of them paused to watch Zsresrinn closely – one of them held what looked like a missile launcher but he paused when Silver made it in first. A few of them paused, looking almost ready to raise their weapons at Corsica – her heat signatures were off of the charts. It was clear that the bizarre mishmashed squadron was still a sight to many of them. Troopers further back were starting to move back to the APC’s as ominous frothing growls and shrieks, likely celaderaka mixed with tarrhaidim, called out over the sound of melting metal and stomping boots off in the distance. Whomever was hunting them was angry.
One of the soldiers stood a foot taller than the others – their armour made them featureless, beyond the light black overlapping ridges over a mixture of light and dark greys comprising a more flexible under armour. Larger wrist guards that featured fang-like tips sat on their wrists and a cape was visible around their waist, likely some sort of shielding for hidden thrusters of some sort. Their ridged helmet was imposing as they loomed before Silver, still dwarfed by Zsresrinn as he motioned for them to follow him as he walked towards the parked vehicles.
“Yirilovan Selekawael, loyalist to the bone.” The armoured figure called out, motioning to the rest of the Sect team to start boarding. “Captain within the Regime, Fortress Kerovnia just a few hours from here. Your leaders told us nothing about a hot landing when we were recruited for assistance. As far as the tasahnial* are concerned, our truce with them holds – they are not aware we crept in just under their noses. Hence the jammers – as far as they are concerned, this is a dead zone too close to our lines for them to near.”
He turned to look down the road, pausing as whatever scanning systems on his armour analysed the particulars of the situation.
“That group that ambushed you – they’re bottom feeding nobodies. Nobodies under the Carnazir, another misguided group of miscreants absorbed by the traitor-armies. The Kerovnian Separatist Alliance – failures before the war, failures lapping up the offal dropped their way by the benefactors.”
Already the APC’s were moving – turning away from the gate and towards a wall or rather, the crumbled powdery ruins of one. A few troops moved into the hefty troop storage components.
“They are however, failures with a direct line to the enforcers the Carnazir use to ensure party line and loyalty is well practiced here. They have been itching for an excuse to take our territory – and your friends, the hulking human I presume and the last motion signature out on the road, better get here faster unless he wants to shatter even the tattered illusion of peace we have now.”
One of the APC’s had moved towards the gate, rumbling down the road as it turned to open its door to them. Its turret swivelled tracking motion through the trees – no visual contact but it was clear they were cutting it close. Distantly, something could be heard stomping about in the woods and in its wake, trees could be heard tumbling to the ground. The troops inside wildly gestured at Paris and Vin – it was clear they were almost on borrowed time now.
“Once they get in, we’re hitting the jammer and blinding them. We’ve done it before; we’re a sneaky bunch when we want to be. With how things have gone south, we’re going to take you the other rendez-vous point. It’s clear by helping you, we might be targeted now as well.” Yrilovan concluded, jogging towards one of the APC’s – one that the Sect squad would notice had a rather unusual electrical signature, as if it was covered in a field of static.
The crunching of trees in the distance continued.
If you vanish for a sufficiently long time period, I may have no choice but to count your slot as open.
Less like an advanced combat platform made from a fusion of synthetic biomass and shaped metallic armouring, the stomping gun-drone looked demonic, possessed by some horrific rage beyond what could simply be programmed into a machine. Its entire front had been gouged open by Zsresrinn’s hellhammer, somehow not triggering its protective energy field, and a mixture of intestinal tube-wiring and sparking electronics spat and glared like a bloodied, pouring eye. As the sect team ran it was no less savage, its bullets at first a wild spray of mag-accelerated rounds but as it neared its targets began to grow specific and a high-pitched whine, audible even over the buzz-roar of its heavy machine gun, made it clear it was still targeting the team for its mortar-wielding unztadtlige controller.
Like a hand wracked by traumatic tremors, its large gun jerked and swivelled on it its body as its two eye-stalks, now glowing an angry red, swept around for the retreating team. The gun itself used a separate targeting mechanism as Zsresrin would soon discover, pausing rigid to aim at their estimated centre of mass before letting fly a stream of bright gaseous light and armour shredding projectiles, identifying her by the faint cloud of supernatural particles but unable to get a direct lock on her thanks to the remnants of obfuscating evzredigor matter. It jerked away abruptly towards Linus, the residual energy on their body drawing its ire. It didn’t matter an entire half cracked APC was in the way – the rounds could be heard first clattering through its layers of armour before tearing it open like a pinata, intent on shredding the softer target.
Its weapon swivelled again as it charged, drawn by the sound of clinging metal and the impact of a pair of large-calibre rifle rounds slamming into its hull, Paris now becoming the object of its wrath. It hesitated at first, gravel scraping underneath its dense legs, giving Paris a lead as he charged towards the machine. Immediately, it attempted to move to the side but it was not the only fast-moving heavyweight brute. It managed to avoid a full-on collision but not before Paris shield smashed into its left leg, sending it teetering off to the side. Its now unwieldy body smashed into a crashed hover-car, crumpling its already half melted doors, and nearly slumping to down onto both legs. One of its eyes twitched, stretching on it stalk, glaring with unearthly red at Paris.
That was when the sound of an angry, electrical shriek filled the air. Scanners in the area would detect a powerful discharge of plasma and wary eyes see the huge blue glob soar over the growing flames of the treeline, falling towards Paris as it descended – it wouldn’t be a direct hit but within the 50 metre deadly radius, serious damage could be done – even to the machine itself.
Yet it was only a few seconds before it was up on its feet, charging past Paris before a spray of plasma ripped into its side. Energy shielding flared up – the crackle of electricity around itself intensified into a semi-domal sheen of orange-yellow power, flaring as the plasma rounds slammed into it and caused it to brighten in intensity, weakening its defensive capabilities. The whine rose in intensity as its eye-mounted targeting laser swept over the treeline, wildly around where the residual heat had gathered.
Another mighty roar – another unztadtlige plasma mortar glob soared through the air, aiming to annihilate the still cloaked Vin! Even the machine might be caught in its large radius – as it swivelled outwards towards the road again, it was clearly aiming for more, targeting wildly across destroyed vehicles and the nearing treeline. Another plasma-mortar report followed, this one falling roughly in front of where Linus and Corsica were located!
The machine did not get a chance to keep up its wild sprint. A piercing series of beams, scorching in their intensity, hit it direct on the shields crackling wildly from the strain. Its HMG swivelled, this time locking onto Zsresrinn again, the sheer interference from its rapidly overloading shields causing its weapon to shake and shudder, firing wide from the vrexul and instead gouging open a tree a few metres behind her, sending it crashing forwards just a few metres from the arthropod.
Linus and Corsica responded in kind – energy bolts swollen with unearthly power joined with armour piercing incendiaries, exploding in a radiant show of lights. Energy shielding hit its threshold and violently expelled the excess, sending out a wave of static interference, forcing the machine to stumble backwards… but not before a few of Corsica’s round flew into its open wounds.
Biomatter erupted into flame as soot and vaporizing internal fluids burst out of its body. The very machine gun sitting upon it shuddered before falling not backwards but into its body, crackling and sparking as its biomatter were consumed by the molten intensity boiling within. Its eyestalks rapidly twitched, blinking yellow and orange as they began to target its own crumbling body, answered by another roar of the massively powerful mortar, aiming this time directly on its position!
Before it could fall there, it was up on its feet and moving aggressively towards the reclaimer and the celaderaka, intent on using its raw mass and now burning body as a living battering ram. Its unztadtlige controller was prepared to use it as the target marker itself as the burning, tortured biomachine made one final ditch effort to end at least some of the team members.
“Kirvan’s piss, that bastard’s not giving up, forget it and run!” A familiar voice crackled over the coms. “We can’t hold out for much longer, we’ve been here even before your crash! Any more and that floating coral bastard’s going to catch wind of all of us!”
The soldiers arrayed out in the ruined park were clearly on high alert, scanning over the ruined walls and some had their weapons raised. Whatever they were seeing it was getting them on high alert and the swivelling gun turrets, sweeping the sky and the roofs of the distant ruined buildings, made it clear they wouldn’t be secure out here for long.
Like a hand wracked by traumatic tremors, its large gun jerked and swivelled on it its body as its two eye-stalks, now glowing an angry red, swept around for the retreating team. The gun itself used a separate targeting mechanism as Zsresrin would soon discover, pausing rigid to aim at their estimated centre of mass before letting fly a stream of bright gaseous light and armour shredding projectiles, identifying her by the faint cloud of supernatural particles but unable to get a direct lock on her thanks to the remnants of obfuscating evzredigor matter. It jerked away abruptly towards Linus, the residual energy on their body drawing its ire. It didn’t matter an entire half cracked APC was in the way – the rounds could be heard first clattering through its layers of armour before tearing it open like a pinata, intent on shredding the softer target.
Its weapon swivelled again as it charged, drawn by the sound of clinging metal and the impact of a pair of large-calibre rifle rounds slamming into its hull, Paris now becoming the object of its wrath. It hesitated at first, gravel scraping underneath its dense legs, giving Paris a lead as he charged towards the machine. Immediately, it attempted to move to the side but it was not the only fast-moving heavyweight brute. It managed to avoid a full-on collision but not before Paris shield smashed into its left leg, sending it teetering off to the side. Its now unwieldy body smashed into a crashed hover-car, crumpling its already half melted doors, and nearly slumping to down onto both legs. One of its eyes twitched, stretching on it stalk, glaring with unearthly red at Paris.
That was when the sound of an angry, electrical shriek filled the air. Scanners in the area would detect a powerful discharge of plasma and wary eyes see the huge blue glob soar over the growing flames of the treeline, falling towards Paris as it descended – it wouldn’t be a direct hit but within the 50 metre deadly radius, serious damage could be done – even to the machine itself.
Yet it was only a few seconds before it was up on its feet, charging past Paris before a spray of plasma ripped into its side. Energy shielding flared up – the crackle of electricity around itself intensified into a semi-domal sheen of orange-yellow power, flaring as the plasma rounds slammed into it and caused it to brighten in intensity, weakening its defensive capabilities. The whine rose in intensity as its eye-mounted targeting laser swept over the treeline, wildly around where the residual heat had gathered.
Another mighty roar – another unztadtlige plasma mortar glob soared through the air, aiming to annihilate the still cloaked Vin! Even the machine might be caught in its large radius – as it swivelled outwards towards the road again, it was clearly aiming for more, targeting wildly across destroyed vehicles and the nearing treeline. Another plasma-mortar report followed, this one falling roughly in front of where Linus and Corsica were located!
The machine did not get a chance to keep up its wild sprint. A piercing series of beams, scorching in their intensity, hit it direct on the shields crackling wildly from the strain. Its HMG swivelled, this time locking onto Zsresrinn again, the sheer interference from its rapidly overloading shields causing its weapon to shake and shudder, firing wide from the vrexul and instead gouging open a tree a few metres behind her, sending it crashing forwards just a few metres from the arthropod.
Linus and Corsica responded in kind – energy bolts swollen with unearthly power joined with armour piercing incendiaries, exploding in a radiant show of lights. Energy shielding hit its threshold and violently expelled the excess, sending out a wave of static interference, forcing the machine to stumble backwards… but not before a few of Corsica’s round flew into its open wounds.
Biomatter erupted into flame as soot and vaporizing internal fluids burst out of its body. The very machine gun sitting upon it shuddered before falling not backwards but into its body, crackling and sparking as its biomatter were consumed by the molten intensity boiling within. Its eyestalks rapidly twitched, blinking yellow and orange as they began to target its own crumbling body, answered by another roar of the massively powerful mortar, aiming this time directly on its position!
Before it could fall there, it was up on its feet and moving aggressively towards the reclaimer and the celaderaka, intent on using its raw mass and now burning body as a living battering ram. Its unztadtlige controller was prepared to use it as the target marker itself as the burning, tortured biomachine made one final ditch effort to end at least some of the team members.
“Kirvan’s piss, that bastard’s not giving up, forget it and run!” A familiar voice crackled over the coms. “We can’t hold out for much longer, we’ve been here even before your crash! Any more and that floating coral bastard’s going to catch wind of all of us!”
The soldiers arrayed out in the ruined park were clearly on high alert, scanning over the ruined walls and some had their weapons raised. Whatever they were seeing it was getting them on high alert and the swivelling gun turrets, sweeping the sky and the roofs of the distant ruined buildings, made it clear they wouldn’t be secure out here for long.
The forest was alight with the flash of rifle fire and roaring flames emerging from the shattered carcass of the transport vessel. As the team became aware of the regroup point and the unseen ally calling for their presence, the encroaching enemy threat only furthered in its aggression. Spread out as they were, their advantage in numbers was accompanied with one in terms of pure volume of fire. The heavy-duty rifles filled the air with deadly bolts, pinging off of Paris’ shield like ringing bells but the impact was rattling and vicious. His armour might be tough but these rounds would treat it far more harshly than his shield.
Worse, the unztadtlige was nearing and as it did so, its heavy machine gun fire sharpened. A few trees next to Linus and Corsica exploded, a few of the thinner ones toppling as streams of bright purple bolts ripped right through them with raw kinetic force. Another of its turrets, emerging like some egg-like sac out of which three blocky barrels poked out, fired an angry blast at Paris, uncaring for the durability of his colossal shield. Fuzzy communication signals blared between itself and the soldiers, pushing them to trail the hulking human – with the leg servos of the tarrhaidim, that wouldn’t be a problem.
That was until mid-sprint, a horrific burst of flame and force erupted in the group that had splintered off to give chase. Limbs were torn out of sockets, worm-tendril parasites ripping out of bodies to try and escape the horrific heat, and whole soldiers tossed off of their feet and smashing through foliage, bramble, and their own allies. Paris’ solar tablet sent a whole squad into disarray as burning fungoid biomatter and hungry flames now began to consume the squadron, forcing the unztadtlige back to avoid its own coral-like biomass being touched by the raging inferno.
The bipedal bioconstruct had caught up with frightening speed, its multiple sensor eyes glaring death at Corsica and Linus but they had just managed to avoid its gauss rounds slicing them clean open. A storm of celaderaka shotgun shells repaid it in kind, clashing against a glowing dome-like field around its body. The energy shield brightened with each 12-gauge blast and the machine staggered, digging in its heels and wildly firing at the two. Crackling and sparking, it advanced again swivelling its guns towards the tree it had seen them run towards but missing a pair of grenades landing near its feet.
An explosion erupted and its energy shield shattered, a backwash of static enveloping demon and flame-monger alike, causing the robot to stagger. That was all the window needed for both to escape to the park but not before Corsica took a few choice potshots at its now vulnerable body. The human-sized machine jerked from the impact, barely affected at first. Yet what seemed at first like normal DMR rounds now erupted into flames, hungrily eating away at synesthetic biomatter around its legs and arms, forcing it to begin exuding its bio-regulatory fluids in a desperate attempt to quell the raging flames!
In the carnage, Linus had knocked over one of the larger scattering nearing footsoldiers moving to assist the bioconstruct, barely avoiding the burning bramble as it toppled, giving a momentary lull in the ruthless symphony of their rifle fire. It rolled towards them, crashing over a few smaller trees but caught against a few of its larger, not-yet-felled counterparts. The soldiers used this sudden stop to advance but wouldn’t even notice Corsica planting a particular explosive within the tree’s body, some of them even going so far to vault over it. As if enraged, the bioconstruct bent its legs and with some struggle, leapt onto the tree, crunching bark under its hefty frame as its shaky, partially bobbing guns struggled to track the retreating Sect operatives.
It didn’t get a chance to cut them off or apart this time. Another raging blast tore open the tree and the bipedal machine was caught right at the epicentre. Its legs were torn open, flash seared by the heat, arms ripping off their sockets then half disintegrating as they fell, while its crab-like head crumpled from the force. The machine fell in five different pieces, one of legs smashing into a human trooper and trapping him underneath its burning bulk, causing him to scream as his light armour fed the melting metal flames. Others had been tossed by the blast, their burning carcasses rolling over the ground to try and put out the flames or slain from the visceral blast force, bits of metal shrapnel from the wrecked bioconstruct ripping right through fungal flesh and human skin like knives through meat.
The battle was far from fully decided. A few of these heavier duty rifle rounds and the kinetic energy bolts from the coral warmachine passed mere inches from the still cloaked Silver and Vin’s armoured forms as they headed towards the park. A larger target had drawn the attention of the ambushers’ attention – the hefty vrexul warriors. Zsresrinn wasn’t spared any expense just as Paris wasn’t; a group of the battle riffle armed troops swung their aim towards her, sending a flurry of rounds barely after the eyestalked bioconstruct scored a hit on her side.
The waist machine strafed out to the side, readying its heavy-duty machine gun for another flurry of mag-accelerated death but the arthropod’s weapon was faster. Three cracks of high explosive armour piercing rounds slammed into its body, tearing out chunks of reinforced metal and synth-bone and ripping out its gut region. The unztadtlige managed to fire a burst her way before another trio slammed into its body. Dense and layered as its armour was, at this range the hellhammer had piercing power equivalent to certain light vehicle weaponry. One of the anemone like polyp stumps was ripped open, wiring and veins torn from the piercing force before sensitive bioelectronics were consumed in a blossom of flames. Two of its camera-ports were flattened by a single round rapidly ripping a trench across its upper body before slamming into a trooper using it as cover, splattering his skull into a misty pulp-spraying mess before detonating into the dirt behind him. The third round didn’t dig into anywhere near as vital but the impact and explosive force stunned the gestalt-minded brute – a well needed respite.
In the ephemeral moment between the reloading and firing of deadly weaponry, a strange and foul conjuration of arthropod biomatter and a strange almost glass-like, reflective smoke shimmered around Zsresrinn. Soldiers attempting to fire on her cursed and turned away momentarily, targeting devices momentarily overloaded by the wild, jarring patterns and sending shots wide and far. Before they could properly calibrate their targeting devices, another swarm had taken its place – a thick fog of foul buzzing insectoids, dominated by a singular eye like some parody of a common housefly, filling the air with a living smog of visually impenetrable fog.
Yet not physically. The fog shimmered and scattered at points as the hulking, powerful shape of the bony white gun-platform machine, still standing after three armour piercing rounds, stormed through and chased after the Sect team. Bursts of heavy duty magnetically accelerated rounds flew forth like solid streams of blue and white, going straight through thick trunks like nothing. This time however, it wasn’t targeting a specific member of the team but anyone unfortunate enough to be in front of it. At this point, all the survivors were outside of the interference range from the crash but a crackle was sounding over their com systems – foreign interference of some sort.
Jerry would be able to pick up the particulars of the signal. So would Vin.
Their onboard electronics weren’t being hacked – the entire squad was now being targeted!
Off in the distance, a pulsing hum that rumbled almost like a massive buzzsaw purring could be heard. If they looked back and through the cloud, they could see a number of ports opening on the back of the unztadtlige as it prepared its powerful artillery weaponry again.
“FASTER! Faster dammit, we need you to get inside jammer's safe range! We’re picking up energy buildup, multiple hidden targeting lasers from the gun-platform’s eyestalks! The unztadtlige is preparing its plasma mortars and trying to target your travel path!”
The same voice from earlier screamed over their coms as any HUDs the possessed would light up with a navigational marker – the park, near but not near enough especially with a seemingly vengeful bioconstruct bearing on them, its onboard targeting devices scanning and slowly locking onto the team. They may have fended off the footsoldiers, even destroyed the other bioconstruct, but the unzadtlige could easily match the whole squad in pure destructive power. The hellhammer’s rounds had done horrific damage but with its unusual, partially cybernetic body it did not feel the same pain (if it did at all) that others might. Nor were its most important internal systems damaged. Yet as a sapient life form, it certainly felt a murderous need to end them for good.
Up ahead however were signs of what the unseen voice had mentioned – a few trails that converged upon a road and the burnt-out husks of trucks and other civilian vehicles turned over or crashed against one another. Travelling down the road, they would be able to see trees of a different sort – the treeline itself was purposefully cropped away from the road, leaving a gulf of shrubs between the cement and the forest along with cratered blast marks and a few cadavers scattered across it.
Down the wreck-littered road, past the flattened black iron bars of a once towering gate, and into a park of once rolling now partially blast-gouged hills and withered decorative vegetation, a few vehicles could be seen. Large and blocky armoured personnel carriers of some sort with a few soldiers of some sort positioned alongside the uneven topography.
“We have visual contact. Just get a few more meters in, then we can up the jammer’s interference and blind them… wait, shit, get rid of that bioconstruct! It hasn’t seen us yet, nail it before it alerts them all!”
Worse, the unztadtlige was nearing and as it did so, its heavy machine gun fire sharpened. A few trees next to Linus and Corsica exploded, a few of the thinner ones toppling as streams of bright purple bolts ripped right through them with raw kinetic force. Another of its turrets, emerging like some egg-like sac out of which three blocky barrels poked out, fired an angry blast at Paris, uncaring for the durability of his colossal shield. Fuzzy communication signals blared between itself and the soldiers, pushing them to trail the hulking human – with the leg servos of the tarrhaidim, that wouldn’t be a problem.
That was until mid-sprint, a horrific burst of flame and force erupted in the group that had splintered off to give chase. Limbs were torn out of sockets, worm-tendril parasites ripping out of bodies to try and escape the horrific heat, and whole soldiers tossed off of their feet and smashing through foliage, bramble, and their own allies. Paris’ solar tablet sent a whole squad into disarray as burning fungoid biomatter and hungry flames now began to consume the squadron, forcing the unztadtlige back to avoid its own coral-like biomass being touched by the raging inferno.
The bipedal bioconstruct had caught up with frightening speed, its multiple sensor eyes glaring death at Corsica and Linus but they had just managed to avoid its gauss rounds slicing them clean open. A storm of celaderaka shotgun shells repaid it in kind, clashing against a glowing dome-like field around its body. The energy shield brightened with each 12-gauge blast and the machine staggered, digging in its heels and wildly firing at the two. Crackling and sparking, it advanced again swivelling its guns towards the tree it had seen them run towards but missing a pair of grenades landing near its feet.
An explosion erupted and its energy shield shattered, a backwash of static enveloping demon and flame-monger alike, causing the robot to stagger. That was all the window needed for both to escape to the park but not before Corsica took a few choice potshots at its now vulnerable body. The human-sized machine jerked from the impact, barely affected at first. Yet what seemed at first like normal DMR rounds now erupted into flames, hungrily eating away at synesthetic biomatter around its legs and arms, forcing it to begin exuding its bio-regulatory fluids in a desperate attempt to quell the raging flames!
In the carnage, Linus had knocked over one of the larger scattering nearing footsoldiers moving to assist the bioconstruct, barely avoiding the burning bramble as it toppled, giving a momentary lull in the ruthless symphony of their rifle fire. It rolled towards them, crashing over a few smaller trees but caught against a few of its larger, not-yet-felled counterparts. The soldiers used this sudden stop to advance but wouldn’t even notice Corsica planting a particular explosive within the tree’s body, some of them even going so far to vault over it. As if enraged, the bioconstruct bent its legs and with some struggle, leapt onto the tree, crunching bark under its hefty frame as its shaky, partially bobbing guns struggled to track the retreating Sect operatives.
It didn’t get a chance to cut them off or apart this time. Another raging blast tore open the tree and the bipedal machine was caught right at the epicentre. Its legs were torn open, flash seared by the heat, arms ripping off their sockets then half disintegrating as they fell, while its crab-like head crumpled from the force. The machine fell in five different pieces, one of legs smashing into a human trooper and trapping him underneath its burning bulk, causing him to scream as his light armour fed the melting metal flames. Others had been tossed by the blast, their burning carcasses rolling over the ground to try and put out the flames or slain from the visceral blast force, bits of metal shrapnel from the wrecked bioconstruct ripping right through fungal flesh and human skin like knives through meat.
The battle was far from fully decided. A few of these heavier duty rifle rounds and the kinetic energy bolts from the coral warmachine passed mere inches from the still cloaked Silver and Vin’s armoured forms as they headed towards the park. A larger target had drawn the attention of the ambushers’ attention – the hefty vrexul warriors. Zsresrinn wasn’t spared any expense just as Paris wasn’t; a group of the battle riffle armed troops swung their aim towards her, sending a flurry of rounds barely after the eyestalked bioconstruct scored a hit on her side.
The waist machine strafed out to the side, readying its heavy-duty machine gun for another flurry of mag-accelerated death but the arthropod’s weapon was faster. Three cracks of high explosive armour piercing rounds slammed into its body, tearing out chunks of reinforced metal and synth-bone and ripping out its gut region. The unztadtlige managed to fire a burst her way before another trio slammed into its body. Dense and layered as its armour was, at this range the hellhammer had piercing power equivalent to certain light vehicle weaponry. One of the anemone like polyp stumps was ripped open, wiring and veins torn from the piercing force before sensitive bioelectronics were consumed in a blossom of flames. Two of its camera-ports were flattened by a single round rapidly ripping a trench across its upper body before slamming into a trooper using it as cover, splattering his skull into a misty pulp-spraying mess before detonating into the dirt behind him. The third round didn’t dig into anywhere near as vital but the impact and explosive force stunned the gestalt-minded brute – a well needed respite.
In the ephemeral moment between the reloading and firing of deadly weaponry, a strange and foul conjuration of arthropod biomatter and a strange almost glass-like, reflective smoke shimmered around Zsresrinn. Soldiers attempting to fire on her cursed and turned away momentarily, targeting devices momentarily overloaded by the wild, jarring patterns and sending shots wide and far. Before they could properly calibrate their targeting devices, another swarm had taken its place – a thick fog of foul buzzing insectoids, dominated by a singular eye like some parody of a common housefly, filling the air with a living smog of visually impenetrable fog.
Yet not physically. The fog shimmered and scattered at points as the hulking, powerful shape of the bony white gun-platform machine, still standing after three armour piercing rounds, stormed through and chased after the Sect team. Bursts of heavy duty magnetically accelerated rounds flew forth like solid streams of blue and white, going straight through thick trunks like nothing. This time however, it wasn’t targeting a specific member of the team but anyone unfortunate enough to be in front of it. At this point, all the survivors were outside of the interference range from the crash but a crackle was sounding over their com systems – foreign interference of some sort.
Jerry would be able to pick up the particulars of the signal. So would Vin.
MULTIPLE TARGET LOCK ATTEMPTS FROM HOSTILE SOURCE.
RANGEFINDING AND TRAVEL PATH PREDICTION DETECTED.
RANGEFINDING AND TRAVEL PATH PREDICTION DETECTED.
Their onboard electronics weren’t being hacked – the entire squad was now being targeted!
Off in the distance, a pulsing hum that rumbled almost like a massive buzzsaw purring could be heard. If they looked back and through the cloud, they could see a number of ports opening on the back of the unztadtlige as it prepared its powerful artillery weaponry again.
“FASTER! Faster dammit, we need you to get inside jammer's safe range! We’re picking up energy buildup, multiple hidden targeting lasers from the gun-platform’s eyestalks! The unztadtlige is preparing its plasma mortars and trying to target your travel path!”
The same voice from earlier screamed over their coms as any HUDs the possessed would light up with a navigational marker – the park, near but not near enough especially with a seemingly vengeful bioconstruct bearing on them, its onboard targeting devices scanning and slowly locking onto the team. They may have fended off the footsoldiers, even destroyed the other bioconstruct, but the unzadtlige could easily match the whole squad in pure destructive power. The hellhammer’s rounds had done horrific damage but with its unusual, partially cybernetic body it did not feel the same pain (if it did at all) that others might. Nor were its most important internal systems damaged. Yet as a sapient life form, it certainly felt a murderous need to end them for good.
Up ahead however were signs of what the unseen voice had mentioned – a few trails that converged upon a road and the burnt-out husks of trucks and other civilian vehicles turned over or crashed against one another. Travelling down the road, they would be able to see trees of a different sort – the treeline itself was purposefully cropped away from the road, leaving a gulf of shrubs between the cement and the forest along with cratered blast marks and a few cadavers scattered across it.
Down the wreck-littered road, past the flattened black iron bars of a once towering gate, and into a park of once rolling now partially blast-gouged hills and withered decorative vegetation, a few vehicles could be seen. Large and blocky armoured personnel carriers of some sort with a few soldiers of some sort positioned alongside the uneven topography.
“We have visual contact. Just get a few more meters in, then we can up the jammer’s interference and blind them… wait, shit, get rid of that bioconstruct! It hasn’t seen us yet, nail it before it alerts them all!”
Barely a minute had passed since the crash and already its deadly cargo was up in arms and in action. As most of the party headed towards the wood, the raiding party neared. Black silhouettes in the foliage and spaces between the trees began to clear and multiple shapes bipedal in form began to emerge. Humans most likely by the layered plated armour, interspersed with larger tarrhaidim by the bolted or half-melded plating complimented with limb servos attached by a similar manner. The particulars of their armour were difficult to make out but it at the very least seemed basic, lower level clearance material, potentially military surplus form wars prior. The rifles in their arms were long, tubular, equipped with simple scopes and sights – a few using laser targetters to sweep the wreckage and for their frantic quarry, the red beams invisible to the naked eye.
They were equipped for engagement at a distance and as multiple party members broke from the wreckage, they fell into the sights of these lengthy weapons. The air crackled and hissed as chemo-electric discharge shattered the ambience of burning metal and cackling electricity, just as the enormous globules of blue-white plasma slammed into the ground. Waves of destructive heat and ghastly flames scorched over the crash site, causing nearby bark and foliage to combust before their ashes were blown away by violent shockwaves of force, radiating outwards and into those scattering towards the woods.
Paris, hunkering down into the wreckage, would be beset by the full brunt of the infernal heat and concussive force. The malfunctioning void-tech that powered the crashed transport fared no better as tortured metal was devoured by the hellish blossoms, bursting into nauseating clouds of ethereal luminescence, swamping the area in an unearthly glow. What was once the wreckage of the plane collapsed or shattered, sending deadly bits of burning metal fragments flying outwards. One could even hear a few distant windows smashed open from the flying bits of metal. Paris’ armour would be pushed to the limits as forces both physical and immaterial crashed upon it.
It was bright enough that a few of the encroaching hostiles were forced to duck behind tree and stone but more than a few simply crouched and watched, weapons raised as they took aim. Against the hungry glare of the mortar blast, the forms of the Sect team had been silhouetted in a sharp black against the pinkish bluish blob of flame. In the ensuing carnage of the blast, they had not seen Legius leap up into a tree nor its disappearance into the brush.
They too were unaware of Silver and Vin Valvoi: even as residual ether clung to their bodies; their eyes were focused elsewhere. Before Legius had leapt down, the bio-colony would have seen another distant shape – rock like, craggy, hovering off of the ground on a quartet of outwards-spreading cones. They were anti-gravitational emitters, attached to a body that was at first malformed to its sight but almost tank-like in build, bearing strange polyp-like growths plated with heavy armour, some of which smoked and blurred with immense heat.
It was an unztadtlige; a living weapons platform made from a gestalt consciousness of cybernetically interlinked coral-like organisms. Given that it was faintly within visual range, it was either not using its heaviest ordinance… or it planned to do direct fire support. It was far, far behind the team firing upon the scattering Sect team, ripping off massive chunks of trees with their heavy duty spike rounds as they fired at will at any Sect member in sight, but it was starting to hover closer and closer. Multiple panels across its body could be seen swivelling and spinning, gas coughing up as it released excess heat and began to unravel a smaller array of medium to heavy calibre weapons. It had annihilated the craft – now it was going to help finish off the rest of the team once it got close enough.
Another series of strange shapes would begin to appear between the infantry team and their hefty cragged companion. Their bodies had been roughly camo painted to match the environment but they could not be more mismatched visually. One had a semi-flattened body like that of a crab hosting a variety of complex sensory equipment, propped up on a series of tubes connected to a pair of powerful synthetic biomatter legs. Emerging from behind its body were a pair of mag-guns with multiple magazines loaded into them.
Accompanying it was a far stranger, misshapen bioconstruct. It was like half the skeletal body of some great extinct dinosaur, layered in a plaster-like cartilaginous looking armour. All of this resulted in but a waist, a pair of long digitigrade legs, and almost limb-flaps emerging from the sides of its hips. Yet on top of this bizarre oddity sat a far larger magnetic accelerator gun – a machine gun compared to the twin rifles of its companion. Two long stocks with orange tips, like the eyes of some large snail, emerged from its waist-body, scanning for its plentiful targets.
The waist-machine switched towards the enormous vrexul warrior, firing a deadly spray of smoke-trailing accelerated rounds, ripping through multiple trees and smoking up the ground before it with woodchipped dust as it intended to rip the bioweapon apart. Meanwhile, its relatively less malformed compatriot swerved outwards on a parallel travel path to Corsica and Linus, firing disciplined bursts of hyper-accelerated rounds in front of them with one rifle, aiming to get them to stumble and pause. Its other arm would then let loose with a longer spray, attempting to slice them in half with its armour piercing fury.
Beyond the crash site however, the forest was a busy place. Above in the skies, the drone construct Jerry had been able to not only visually make out the rest of the sect team but mark them down on Silver’s HUD. The drone’s scans also marked out the locations of the rest of the hostile intercepting force but that wasn’t all. There were more hostiles: motion sensors would detect aggressive movement behind the partially crumbled walls of Kerovnia but nothing was breaking from cover yet. There were already other squadrons moving about – one of which seemed to be on the same travel path as Corsica and Linus as if their current troubles were not enough. Another was moving towards the wreck-site from the east at a slower pace and energy readings seemed to suggest it was carrying heavier ordnance.
Yet there seemed to be a particular slice of the woods just north of Corsica and Linus’ current travel path that would lead into a nearby, partially ruined park that itself lead into a residential area, that didn’t seem particularly occupied. The problem was getting there. There was a very sharp numbers advantage for their yet unidentified assailants and their approaching reinforcements. It was possible that the destroyed craft might be interfering with their communications as well – hence why another wave hadn’t emerged from the crushed city walls.
Their coms were buzzing wildly again – the voice that had yelled at them earlier was trying to re-establish communications. Yet now their voice was further mangled.
“-IN THE TRANSPORT WRECKAGE, IS HE-…- AT THE PARK-…-HAVE VISUAL CONTACT WITH THE RECLAI-…-MULTIPLE HOSTILES-…-REGROUP AT-…-JAMMER DEVICE PREP-…-“
Whatever he was trying to say, it was clear that a hammer had been brought forth to crush the scalpel that was the Sect team.
They were equipped for engagement at a distance and as multiple party members broke from the wreckage, they fell into the sights of these lengthy weapons. The air crackled and hissed as chemo-electric discharge shattered the ambience of burning metal and cackling electricity, just as the enormous globules of blue-white plasma slammed into the ground. Waves of destructive heat and ghastly flames scorched over the crash site, causing nearby bark and foliage to combust before their ashes were blown away by violent shockwaves of force, radiating outwards and into those scattering towards the woods.
Paris, hunkering down into the wreckage, would be beset by the full brunt of the infernal heat and concussive force. The malfunctioning void-tech that powered the crashed transport fared no better as tortured metal was devoured by the hellish blossoms, bursting into nauseating clouds of ethereal luminescence, swamping the area in an unearthly glow. What was once the wreckage of the plane collapsed or shattered, sending deadly bits of burning metal fragments flying outwards. One could even hear a few distant windows smashed open from the flying bits of metal. Paris’ armour would be pushed to the limits as forces both physical and immaterial crashed upon it.
It was bright enough that a few of the encroaching hostiles were forced to duck behind tree and stone but more than a few simply crouched and watched, weapons raised as they took aim. Against the hungry glare of the mortar blast, the forms of the Sect team had been silhouetted in a sharp black against the pinkish bluish blob of flame. In the ensuing carnage of the blast, they had not seen Legius leap up into a tree nor its disappearance into the brush.
They too were unaware of Silver and Vin Valvoi: even as residual ether clung to their bodies; their eyes were focused elsewhere. Before Legius had leapt down, the bio-colony would have seen another distant shape – rock like, craggy, hovering off of the ground on a quartet of outwards-spreading cones. They were anti-gravitational emitters, attached to a body that was at first malformed to its sight but almost tank-like in build, bearing strange polyp-like growths plated with heavy armour, some of which smoked and blurred with immense heat.
It was an unztadtlige; a living weapons platform made from a gestalt consciousness of cybernetically interlinked coral-like organisms. Given that it was faintly within visual range, it was either not using its heaviest ordinance… or it planned to do direct fire support. It was far, far behind the team firing upon the scattering Sect team, ripping off massive chunks of trees with their heavy duty spike rounds as they fired at will at any Sect member in sight, but it was starting to hover closer and closer. Multiple panels across its body could be seen swivelling and spinning, gas coughing up as it released excess heat and began to unravel a smaller array of medium to heavy calibre weapons. It had annihilated the craft – now it was going to help finish off the rest of the team once it got close enough.
Another series of strange shapes would begin to appear between the infantry team and their hefty cragged companion. Their bodies had been roughly camo painted to match the environment but they could not be more mismatched visually. One had a semi-flattened body like that of a crab hosting a variety of complex sensory equipment, propped up on a series of tubes connected to a pair of powerful synthetic biomatter legs. Emerging from behind its body were a pair of mag-guns with multiple magazines loaded into them.
Accompanying it was a far stranger, misshapen bioconstruct. It was like half the skeletal body of some great extinct dinosaur, layered in a plaster-like cartilaginous looking armour. All of this resulted in but a waist, a pair of long digitigrade legs, and almost limb-flaps emerging from the sides of its hips. Yet on top of this bizarre oddity sat a far larger magnetic accelerator gun – a machine gun compared to the twin rifles of its companion. Two long stocks with orange tips, like the eyes of some large snail, emerged from its waist-body, scanning for its plentiful targets.
The waist-machine switched towards the enormous vrexul warrior, firing a deadly spray of smoke-trailing accelerated rounds, ripping through multiple trees and smoking up the ground before it with woodchipped dust as it intended to rip the bioweapon apart. Meanwhile, its relatively less malformed compatriot swerved outwards on a parallel travel path to Corsica and Linus, firing disciplined bursts of hyper-accelerated rounds in front of them with one rifle, aiming to get them to stumble and pause. Its other arm would then let loose with a longer spray, attempting to slice them in half with its armour piercing fury.
Beyond the crash site however, the forest was a busy place. Above in the skies, the drone construct Jerry had been able to not only visually make out the rest of the sect team but mark them down on Silver’s HUD. The drone’s scans also marked out the locations of the rest of the hostile intercepting force but that wasn’t all. There were more hostiles: motion sensors would detect aggressive movement behind the partially crumbled walls of Kerovnia but nothing was breaking from cover yet. There were already other squadrons moving about – one of which seemed to be on the same travel path as Corsica and Linus as if their current troubles were not enough. Another was moving towards the wreck-site from the east at a slower pace and energy readings seemed to suggest it was carrying heavier ordnance.
Yet there seemed to be a particular slice of the woods just north of Corsica and Linus’ current travel path that would lead into a nearby, partially ruined park that itself lead into a residential area, that didn’t seem particularly occupied. The problem was getting there. There was a very sharp numbers advantage for their yet unidentified assailants and their approaching reinforcements. It was possible that the destroyed craft might be interfering with their communications as well – hence why another wave hadn’t emerged from the crushed city walls.
Their coms were buzzing wildly again – the voice that had yelled at them earlier was trying to re-establish communications. Yet now their voice was further mangled.
“-IN THE TRANSPORT WRECKAGE, IS HE-…- AT THE PARK-…-HAVE VISUAL CONTACT WITH THE RECLAI-…-MULTIPLE HOSTILES-…-REGROUP AT-…-JAMMER DEVICE PREP-…-“
Whatever he was trying to say, it was clear that a hammer had been brought forth to crush the scalpel that was the Sect team.
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