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Post by Whill Shaman Nyx on Apr 7, 2013 3:19:16 GMT -8
*Eriadu City was the capital city of both Eriadu and the Seswenna sector. It contained the Seswenna Sector Bank, Seswenna Hall, the headquarters of the Eriadu Free HoloDaily, the private mansions of the sector's governor and lieutenant governor, and the governor's palace. It was also the location of the Tarkin Memorial Conference Center.*
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Post by Alexander Motti on May 25, 2013 23:26:50 GMT -8
On the top floor in one of the taller buildings of the city, Alexander Motti sits in his office staring at data on his holoscreen. Important stuff he was sure, but it had been a long day and he was too distracted to really read through the information. He was expected to attend the planetary governor's ball tonight, there he could schmooze and impress who he needed to, though there wasn't too much of that he needed to do either. He essentially had the run of things on the planet and the entirety of the Seswenna sector, but he still had to keep in the favor of those who run the government. But what really interested him wasn't the ball, but who he was taking with him. He had hired the mist expensive and coveted escort on the whole planet, very few could afford her, and he was excited to show his stature to the rest of attendees. And of course, he was also excited for what he do to her after he took her back to his penthouse.
Being the CEO of the Eriaduan Trading Company had its perks.
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Post by Alexander Motti on Jun 7, 2013 21:46:04 GMT -8
Alexander awakes in his Eriadu City apartment to the pleasant songs of the morning birds. BTLR-14 had opened the doors to the balcony and he could feel the cool breeze on his bare body as leaves the bed. The droid asks him about breakfast and he merely grunts in reply, he needed cafe before he could form something resembling a sentence. Alex shuffles towards the bathroom, but stops when he stops himself in the full length mirror he keeps in the corner. It was a rather disappointing sight, his belly stuck out, his eyes had bags under them, and the cold morning air had cause a good deal of shrinkage. He should probably do something about the weight, he definitely had the money for it, but he didn't really see the point. He loved good food and he didn't need to look good to attract women. He had money for that. Case in point, the women still asleep in his bed. Suddenly reminded of her presence, Alex forgets the need to relieve himself and moves back towards the bed.
The butler droid returns with a tray of everything that is a part of a balanced breakfast.
"Sir, there is a message for you."
"From who?"
He misses the answer, he was too busy studying the beautiful woman he had bedded last night. Her name was Kierra, she was an escort he had hired for the governors ball and she had cost a pretty penny. But she had been worth it, for she was the most sought after escort on the planet. She served only the upper-class of the upper-class, and she was more a symbol of power than anything else. With her on his arm, everyone knew he was where he stood: above them. That's not to say, of course, she wasn't good in the sack. His legs were still little weak from last night. He takes the bed sheets in one hand and slowly pulls them down onto the floor, watching as her naked body curls up to shield herself from the breeze. A smile creeps onto his face-
"Sir? Did you hear me?"
"What?"
"You have a message from the governor."
Crap...
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jan 14, 2014 22:27:13 GMT -8
I had seen a lot, or thought I did. I've seen this planet clasped unto by the neck by every kind of vice, bit of greed, and ounce of megalomania. You read books, see the holomovies, play the games, and deal with all the hot garbage that dulls reality while making anything that happens a type of pipe dream viewed through a haze of cancer causing smoke.
But then you see it -see them- see something that makes your jaw drop and your heart spike.
My head is bleeding just over my left eye. I know this because I can taste the blood pooling down the left side of my mouth, and even trace its tepid journey with precision due to hyper-attentiveness. Pulverized superspaceage cement molecules choke the air -choke my partner's face in a delicate looking blanket of white rust.
They are coming, coming with a noise like I've never heard before.
Unit Sierra Oscar Zulu, what is your status? Over.
Fools. They should start running.
!Ratatatatatatatat!
!Gehboboboboboboboh! FWOOOSHHH!
There it is again. Those strange sounds from an old war movie, tearing the fabric of this city peg by peg, piece by piece.
Unit, respond! We need all personnel to get to the parliament building, the enemy is unkow---
Static. Ops couldn't have gotten blown up, right? No, this is worse. They are doing something to the signals. And then, loudly thundering over the bio-dome of this city comes a voice playing from every speaker.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you have nothing to fear. Please stand clear of the capitol building while we liberate you."
Fucking nuts. They were all insane. It didn't make any freaking sense. It didn't---
!GEHBOBOBOBOBOBOBOH!
In my hands, the standard issue blaster of the force is a work of art. I can hit anything with it, and it's saved my ass and my partner's ass oh so many times, but as I lift my hands I can now see they are cut up and broken -with the fingers pointing in the wrong directions and my blood pulsing out of the gashes every few moments. I can't lift it up to aim -it's too heavy.
"Enemy in the rubble to my front! Engaging!"
Son of a b !GEHHBOBOBOBO!
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Post by Deleted on Jan 14, 2014 23:20:48 GMT -8
They came in uniforms of slate grey, immaculately tailored and perfectly worn. Most of the universe preferred battle dress when marching into combat; these monsters looked ready for an inspection.
They came in uniforms of slate grey, with rifles and submachineguns more suited to a historical reenactment than a battlefield. The ugly metal weapons spate death in the form of little copper and lead slugs. They spat thunder and fire and dirty white smoke, and the defenders died in droves.
They came in uniforms of slate grey, with long, gleaming bayonets affixed to their antique guns. Bayonets that found a home in the hearts of the wounded and dying, of man, woman, and child alike. Soldier, civilian, it didn't matter.
They came in uniforms of slate grey, and there was nothing the defenders of Eriadu could do to stop them.
They weren't ready for this. How could they be? The Eriadu Defense Force had been a bastion of law and order, a shining beacon of strength and power that had stood unopposed for centuries. What did they know of death, of the ugly reality of urban warfare?
When the artillery rained down, the monsters and grey came. When the blasterfire flew thick enough to walk across, they came. How were these accursed beasts still alive? How did they keep coming, when any sane man would have curled up and cried to his god, to his mother?
They came in uniforms of slate grey, and all the defenders could do was die. And the soldiers of the Reich obliged them.
When the historians looked back on this battle, they praised the attackers for their restraint. All told, the casualties for the invasion would be light. Less than three thousand defenders, and maybe a few hundred civilians unlucky or foolish enough to get caught in the crossfire, lost their lives on that fell day. The list should have been much longer, the historians said. The attackers were generous. They were kind. They were merciful. History is written by the victor, and the victor was quite good at making history suit its purposes.
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Post by The Major on Jan 15, 2014 7:12:34 GMT -8
Objective accomplished. The commanders would be throughly pleased with the outcome and progression of this mission. Casualties on the friendly side and loss of material was way below projected numbers -this a result of both the Eraiduian Defense Force not coming to parliament's aide, and the fact that the only belligerents left defending Congress were the police and the royal guard. Striking news: the royal guard made exquisite target practice, and the unit was destroyed. Gathering up the surviving defenders and summarily executing this remainder with a company of machinegunners insured no sudden rebellion, no wehrwolves, no quick hero made up of insurgency parts.
Also, it made a lovely racket, and the Fallschrimjäger loved a violent party.
In far more positive news, Eraidu's own egoism over the "five families'" privilege was even far more helpful than imagined by the Shadow Reich's commanders. Most of the civilian loss was made up of relatives of that council, making the job of rounding up potential threats and feeding them to the "Ubermensch" like stumbling upon a three for one sale at your local department store. Children, their attendants, and the weak willed of the families were kept: they could be adapted for the Reich's use, and would easily forget the horrors they have witnessed with a quick trip to dark room and a attitude adjusting drug cocktail. Whatever washed out at this point could make a lovely lampshade sold for imported price on the galactic marketplace.
In general, the civilian population was antagonistic towards the council -this coupled with the support of the military in essence assured Eraidu's soon to be loyalty. Everyone in the middle and lower class had grown fat and poorer under the regime -and though they would resist at first, the charismatic and popular EDF general should be able to convince them otherwise. He should have the drive to do so: the Reich just placed him in charge as a newly minted chancellor as the government would now undergo a brutal overhaul that would eventually encourage less isolationism, and far more nationalism. Executions by rifle squad and flame thrower to follow.
In an even more exciting piece of news, only four operatives were caught in the act of raping either a civilian or some novice on the field, and though it was only a three days later, and though there was quite a lot of work to be done, the offenders' bodies still hung from the street lights, where every civilian can see. And while the corpses were starting to become rank, the signs nailed to their chests were cleaned and polished every morning.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 15, 2014 12:20:29 GMT -8
Throughout the ordeal, a man in the dress greens of the Dresselian Defense Force stood on the bridge of the invader's flagship. He was a slight man, barely 5'4", with a slender build and shoulder-length blond hair. At a glance, one might easily mistake the man for a rather pretty woman, though a second glance would note that this wasn't the case. At this point, the disgust sets in. Someone that dainty, that pretty, had to be effeminate. A pedophile. Rapist. All manner of unwholesome titles were attached the the man, and all before he even opened his mouth. The eyes didn't help either, the brilliantly blue orbs of ice, just a shade too bright, a hair too large, to be normal. One could find faith in God in those eyes, for without God, there is no heaven, and without heaven, there is no hell. This man's gaze was enough to strike fear into the heart of the bravest of men, and no one ever even knew why.
In actually, Colonel Alois Pritchart was nothing of the sort. He was a devoted family man, with a loving wife and two daughters of unearthly beauty. The oldest was twenty, and could stop traffic just by walking down the street. The youngest, at 17, tried to hide her looks behind thick glasses and bulky clothes, but no one was fooled. They were Colonel Pritchart's pride and joy, and the only thing in the universe he loved more was the robotic god that had saved his family from certain death.
For Eralam, he would endure the presence of these wicked men and women. He would endure the stares and the whispers, and he would pray to his god that they would give him a reason to demonstrate his true skills. As far as they knew, he was an observer, sent to oversee the invasion and determine if the possibility of starting a new Market on this planet existed. What they didn't know was the true mission that Eralam, in the form of the human Dresden, had given his most deadly servant.
Atrocities were to be expected. These people viewed war crimes as entertainment. But there were lines that they would not be permitted to cross. The rapists had been dealt with, and Alois was pleased. A fitting punishment would have been harder to find. Looting was also forbidden; the only prizes permitted were those taken from the fallen in battle. There too the monsters had shown remarkable restraint. There was one final constraint, and one that he would enforce with all the power and righteousness bestowed upon him by his god: thou shalt not take slaves.
Truthfully, Alois made Eralam uncomfortable. It wasn't his skill with a pistol, which could rival the Shard, even in his prime. It wasn't even the eyes, which were cold enough that even the Robot Space Ninja would take note. No, it was the fact that Alois worshiped him. Oh, he wasn't obvious about it, didn't go around bowing or trying to offer sacrifices or anything. But Mrs. Pritchart was a sweet woman, who loved her husband dearly, and was concerned when she found the shrine. She had, discreetly of course, brought it up to Koko one day, and Koko had brought it up to Eralam. To Alois, Eralam was a just god, one who brought balance to the universe. After the bombing, he had done enough digging through history to come to this conclusion on his own. He had also, it seemed, started something of a cult in the upper echelons of Dresselian society, small and utterly discreet, but fiercely devoted. Eralam had wanted to meet with them all and put an end to this nonsense, but Koko and Mrs. Pritchart had all but begged him not to. It didn't hurt anything, and it gave their lives meaning. Wasn't a little embarrassment a small price to pay for giving these men and women something to believe in? And besides, Koko had said, having someone as deadly and devoted as Alois on hand would definitely come in handy one day.
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Post by The Major on Jan 16, 2014 13:15:59 GMT -8
"Contractor Pritchart? I've complied a sitrep for you so you don't have to keep wrinkling those boots while stalking the halls. . ." Nearby, a number of snickers and other exhales of amusement can be heard by working and roaming officers and guards eavesdropping on the rather robust looking Chiss now holding out a holopad for the "Colonel" to use at his leisure. She was just one of the many hundreds of members who have recently joined up with this Shadow Reich after their recent travels into Chiss space just within the last two years. At first ostracized and dealing with a multitude of prejudiced ideas, the Chiss were now classified as equal to humans. There were even a number of geneticists and eugenicists within the Fascist group that were popularizing a number of theories that Chiss were, in fact, human colonists which, through thousands of generations, had developed mutations to combat and better thrive in their most comfortable of habitats. This information had been discovered quite some time ago during the height of the New Republic, but neglected -partly due to the stigmas attached to the icy blue brand of people which hailed from outside the relatively comfortable veil of the Outer Rim. Seemingly a tidbit to galactic news, this rediscovery was studied with a zealousness that could only be attributed to fanatics.
To make matters even more sweaty, Chiss were easily capable of copulation with a baseline human -this coupled with the fact that culturally the blue skinned people were perfect for this organization with their highly militaristic and fiercely proud lifestyle- which practically made them the most desired and sought after personnel in the unit. The combination of mystery, exoticness, yet familiarity with mindset proved to be an effective, nearly lethal means of melding different skin colors into quite the killing machine. And as the good Major was quite aware: getting two groups to work together was sealed if you can get them to knock hips.
"Your master will be happy to know that civilian casualties were the lowest of any operation our Kampfgruppe has undergone to date, even with the incidents at Talabard Square and the. . . miss firing on the Malfi Thruway. There are still pockets of police resistance within the five kilometer square area of Parliament -ambushes and the like. My commander assures you that all units have strict orders to fire only when fired upon. In anycase, if you'd like to begin your survey planetside as per your own objectives, we have units ready to escort and assist you in whatever agenda you might have planned. Oh, and Pritchart? My name is Elke zu Faustus. You may call me Elke or Faust -I'll respond to either."
Yes, it was an altered name, but since she was no longer a part of the Ascendancy it seemed fitting at the time. While she spoke, although where her eyes were looking was imperceptible due to their red nature, Elke had been blatantly staring at this little man's features. For some reason, perhaps due to her constantly having to turn down suitors and other forms of flirtation aboard, she found his slight, soft appearance and figure attractive. Maybe it was the stalwart sense of repulsion he exuded upon her compatriots; maybe it was the sense of purpose that dominated his every move and word. To Hell with examinations, some eye candy would be a great way to knock out some of the triviality of working in SIGINT. After all, everyone aboard, even the cooks, was a rifleman or riflewoman first.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2014 14:13:38 GMT -8
"Thank you," Alois said in his soft, lilting accent. There was almost a musical quality to it. "I'm pleased to hear it. If you'll excuse me, I'll begin my work."
If he noticed the red eyes leering at him, he didn't show it. His tone was perfectly polite, body language relaxed, mind at ease. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, never coming within easy draw distance of the gorgeous pistol on his hip. This was a man completely at ease with the world, confident that, if worse came to worse, he could kill every person in the room before anyone had a chance to clear their holsters.
If only they'd give him a reason.
The survey crew that had been sent along was one of the best in the galaxy. They were known for being as efficient and reliable as droids, but had the intuition that only a thinking mind could bring to the table. They were, naturally, Shards. The site of the future Market was located in a formerly bustling idustrial district. Now abandoned, the place was considered too ruined to be of any practical use by the landowners, who were willing to sell at rock bottom prices. The survey crew was marking out a giant circle, twenty miles in radius. The Market here would be covered by an environmental dome that would render the area inside much more hospitable to those that didn't spend their whole lives breathing smog. The ground would be covered in a thick layer of ferrocrete to protect the Market from the contaminated soil. It would be expensive to make the place habitable, but the prime location on the hyperspace route made the proposition doable.
Eriadu could be a beautiful planet, Alois thought to himself, if only someone would put some effort into it. He yearned for the verdant green forests of Dressel, for walks along tree-shaded paths with his daughters. The quicker these fascist pigs revealed their true nature, the quicker he could kill them all and go home.
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Post by The Major on Jan 19, 2014 9:26:47 GMT -8
Well, that did not go as. . . well as expected. Was it the slightly condescending manner in which Elke had said, "your master" that threw him off? No, this man had a stink in his expression that literally reeled off of his soft face. He hated being here, he hated them, he hated Elke, he hated her uniform -her particular variant of theme was actually "summer" dress. Summer in this case still was the three tone slate gray flecktarn coupled with a pair of black shorts. Yes, this unit did not fool around unless expecting a long term engagement planetside. Realistically, their operations never justified long standing investments like camouflage. Besides, they had an ace if it called for concealment. But back unto the little man's hateful stares and almost prideful tilt of his chin as he regarded the men and women around him. He could hate it all he wanted, but he could do jack-shit about it.
In her mind, there was literally nothing he could accomplish here if he suddenly bared his fangs. As even the more delicate looking intel personnel were easily capable of beating him to death with a coffee mug. Being deadly was the first requisite for the job, and they as a whole had dealt with the most perverse forms of occult and special warfare that they could probably take down an Iron Knight.
Granted, they have never fought an Iron Knight before, but if the Empire could splash their numbers, then surely the Shadow Reich could make Christmas out of it.
"So. . ."Said Elke unto Pritchart with a sardonic grimace that was quite uncommon among the Chiss -must have been something she picked up aboard. ". . . how are you enjoying your stay?"
What had a certain manifestation said? "Every last one of them were jokers, to the fucking end."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 19, 2014 10:25:38 GMT -8
"It's magical," Alois said dryly. "A planet so chocked with smog that they have to televise the sunrise each morning, just so people know when to get out of bed."
And with that, he walked out the door. and headed for the small, enclosed speeder that would take him to his crew.He didn't expressly invite his handler along, but he didn't attempt to discourage her, either. She was free to join him or not at her discretion. He didn't care either way.
The journey to the survey site was a long one, almost an hour. The soft strains of a master on his piano could be heard over the sound of air rushing past, but otherwise, Alois took the opportunity to examine the planet on which he had found himself. Everything seemed to be a uniform shade of grey, not unlike the uniforms of the pigs he was forced to work with. The air, the ground, the buildings, even the people. Occasionally, he'd pass a garishly painted speeder, a pathetic bastion of color in a sea of grim despair. It was almost heartening to know that at least a few people had refused to give in to the miasma that clogged their lungs and robbed their unnaturally short lives of cheer, but the operative word here was "almost." In a few years, the speeders would be indistinguishable from all the others, coated in soot and ash.
Perhaps that would change. Perhaps it wouldn't. The colonel's heart wept for these people, but they were beyond his help. Maybe in a century or two, this planet would be worth living on again. It was hope that they wouldn't have without Eralam, and that was yet another reason why Alois chose to place his faith in the mechanical god.
The Shard survey crew was currently posted up on top of an abandoned warehouse, where they'd be able to see the entirety of the proposed work site. The lead of the crew, also an Iron Knight, greeted the Colonel as he exited the speeder.
"Hey sir, how's it going?"
Ordinarily, a handshake from a YVH droid is something to be feared, but Alois and Ilum went back a long way.
"Not well, Captain. I'm afraid the climate doesn't suit me."
Ilum chuckled, the deep, menacing sound echoing across the rooftop.
"I know what you mean, Sir. This place is bringing me down, and I don't even have lungs."
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Post by The Major on Jan 19, 2014 20:07:39 GMT -8
If anyone a part of Eralam's task force even garnered a faint hope that they would not be disturbed or monitored by certain elements which some would claim were "unsavory" then to call it wistful or even asinine, nay, stupid, thinking would not be a statement out of line. The joyful reunion and cheerful comments derived from their collective positive outlook was cleaved quite nicely by a pair of space-to-surface starfighters careening through the air space directly over the survey group's metallic and shardy heads, flying no more than a few hundred feet. Moments later, a dropship moves to occupy the rooftop dominated by Alois and his allies. Figures in uniforms which perfectly matched the overcast and oppressive clouds above piled out. The message that this is not a hostile formation is conveyed through their casual and closely knit saunter over to the survey group. They are talking, chit chatting -further demonstrating that they did not take the objectives or threat of some vague corporation seriously. They survived countless engagements with the living, and made a mockery of battle with the undead. Surely, these chumps headed up by some half baked man-girl would prove easy pickings. Truly, they could have their way with these. . . robots?
"What? These guys don't have the balls to use anything but faux constructs? No wonder the galaxy folds over like a hou-" Another soldier punches his komrade on the side, and highlights the insignia provided upon their chassises. These symbols had been arranged by Major and Koko before hand, and further showcased to the personnel assigned to this operation. There are some gasps, a look or two of terror, and suddenly the cocky gaits switch over to bristled rifles and squared shoulders. Murmurs knife through the group, but two words in particular are repeated in different conversations: Iron Knight.
Elke, Chiss Warrant Officer, pokes through the huddled and hushed whispers and emerges to the forefront equipped not with a weapon, but with a datapad. It appears to be recording the entire affair. Other than silencing her assigned squad with an effective and precise snap of her hand against the air, she and the troops make no move to further hinder any sort of progress besides clutching unto their various rifles and submachine guns a little more tightly than before. To say any number of their group was afraid would be incorrect; nay, they were quite excited . . .
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Post by Deleted on Jan 20, 2014 3:01:12 GMT -8
The stupid often are, right before the end.
Alois and Ilum fanned out to meet the newcomers, standing in front of the group with about twenty feet in between them. Alois's hands hung loosely by his sides, his posture relaxed. The only thing threatening about him were his eyes, and the less said about them, the better. Ilum tried to look nonthreatening, but it doesn't work so well when your arms bristle with various heavy weaponry and you've got a 2-foot long lightsaber hilt clanking against your thigh.
"Chief Elke, so good to see you," Ilum said, lying his metal ass off in the process. "I don't suppose you'd mind telling us why you're here, would you? See, I was under the impression" read: stated word for word "that your orders instructed you to 'neither hinder nor harass the survey party, as they will take whatever measures they see fit to defend themselves.'"
The corner's of Alois's mouth turned upwards, baring his teeth. This facial expression might have resembled a smile at some point, but that point was lost to history. "Ilum is quite right, of course. It also falls to the party to define what constitutes hindering or harassment, does it not?"
"Indeed, old friend."
They turned their attention back to Elke.
"So we'd greatly appreciate it if you'd tell us what the hell you're doing here," they said in unison, the artificially deep tones of the YVH harmonizing unpleasantly with Alois's lilting, higher pitched voice.
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Post by The Major on Jan 22, 2014 14:51:43 GMT -8
There may be hostility so thick that you can slice-dice it between both the lower ranking troops (though in this case an Iron Knight was hardly lower ranking; likewise, the Reich's elite paratroopers, though never armoured, were literally unmatched in tenacity, tactics, and good old fashioned aggression among human combatants). Warrant Officer Faust, like the effeminate Alois, seemed completely undaunted -possibly oblivious- to the sheer weight and anger each side let roll off in their various weapons already being quick cocked. They did this smoothly and subtly -these people were professionals, or at least pretended to be.
"Contractor Prichart, this planet is officially under the rule of our glorious Reich. Peace, protection, industrialism, and strength will be gathered here and baked like a lovely and sweet scented apple pie. Your Master and my Kommandant have reached a point of cooperation. For the sake of our respective leaders, and your sake, I suggest you adopt an attitude which better represents our new and much improved relationship. Your churlish and frankly saccharine disposition makes your outfit look like a gaggle of janitorial robots, with the collective mental aptitude of a human teenaged girl -no insult intended, Private Westermeitz," She directed to a baby faced human female somewhere over her back. "Surely, you don't wish to dishonor your. . ."
"Hehhh heh hehhh."
Footsteps can be heard coming from behind the paratroopers.
". . .Master. . .Hmph, with a violent outburst, do you? No, of course not. Now, my mandate does not specify any need for me to explain my orders to you, but to clarify, and because I like you, and out of respect for your vigorous. . .conviction. I'm here to draw up territory lines for a DMZ. You are here to pick a location for a market, are you not? Intel clearly states you're surveying to purchase a large plot of land from the newly elected Chancellor of Eraidu, correct? Who do you think is assigned to handle the transfer of legal documents. What, do you think we're beasts without laws? Oh, no, not our State -especially when matters of tax collection and other fees are on the line. Nothing is random, Contractor. Besides, this truly is in your Master's favor. Oh, right. The soldiers behind me must give you an impression of hostility. Yes, they are here for my protection. Can't have an officer being mugged on the field, can we? By all means, if you are offended, you can file a report. I'm sure we have human resource personnel some where in our ranks!"
At this little quip, the soldiers behind Elke begin to laugh quite fully. They continue to do so as another woman dressed in a pink and white outfit moves up to a point just behind the warrant officer's shoulder. Her visage is terrible, marked by black scars which divided up her face into an awkward jigsaw puzzle. Despite this, the young woman smiled demurely and stopped to smell a blue rose in her hands.
Cloudshift, bitter wind -suddenly a platoon and Chiss officer taking in their fill of cruel mirth was a platoon and Chiss officer grinning with large, ravenous chainsaw looking teeth. Their eyes began to glow pink, though not as brightly as the young woman's, who remained creepily silent and seemed to be enjoying herself.
Kuroro has been feeding.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 22, 2014 15:27:15 GMT -8
Alois smiled sweetly. Or tried. Honestly, the man couldn't have looked any more predatory if you gave him six inch claws and a minigun.
"Chief, excuse me, Warrant Officer" he began, denoting her relatively low rank in the overall command structure, "I'm about to explain something that will, if you're wise, entice you and your companions to return to the ship and continue your jobs. You'll note that the contract between our two factions assures that rank and the privileges thereof carry back and forth across organizational lines. In other words, you are so thoroughly outranked right now that, in any normal military, I could order you to polish my boots and reasonably expect you to do it. I will allow that tensions are unusually high at the moment, and doing so would unnecessarily elevate them. However, when I give you an order to egress our worksite with all haste, it is legally binding, and failure to comply means that any consequences are on your own head."
Ilum lacked the necessary facial mobility to match his friend's expression, but his voice was up to the task of getting the point across when he spoke.
"What my friend is trying to say is fuck off. We don't want ya. We don't need ya. Your BS line about a DMZ doesn't cut it on with the guys that have literally all of the plans for planetary development. You're here to cause trouble, and I sincerely doubt that anyone will give a rat's ass if we oblige you into a red smear on this rooftop. And that, my husky blue friend, is precisely what will happen when the demo charges under your feet go off. Now you and your little pink friend there can go the hell on, afore I make me a nice little barbecue pit outta you'uns."
With a little luck, the comment about the "little pink friend" wouldn't go unnoticed. Alois and Ilum had been warned about Kuroro. She was, on a good day for her and a bad day for him, roughly in the same league as Eralam. Or at the very least, she was playing the same sport. Together, Alois and Ilum could reasonably expect to give her a run for her money, so long as the fight ended in a few minutes. Eralam didn't send fools on his survey teams. He knew the kind of carnage these two could bring to bear, but he also knew that they knew when to cut and run. The rest of the team had quietly moved to the designated evac points (READ: the edge of the roof, where they could jump and rely on repulsors to not die.) They never stopped working, but if it dropped in the pot, they would be gone in an instant. The deadly duo would be free to engage or withdraw as they saw fit.
Use of the code word "you'uns" was a signal to blow the charges and jump if it came down to it. They'd hose the enemy down with suppressive fire and head for the hills. As much as they'd like a shot at the pink demon, it would be much more gratifying to watch her utter obliteration for interfering with the crew during the course of their duly appointed duties.
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jan 22, 2014 21:07:02 GMT -8
Charge, lust, action. But before all of that, something far more rapid and effective halts both advance and violence. Literally. The advance and sudden flourish of permeant death is apparently flash frozen, ironically, by the hottest person standing upon the rooftop. Again, this is literal. One didn't earn the title of Firestarter without trying. Had Kuroro earned it? Who knows, but Diva seemed to think so.
The Pink Nightmare's hand is outstretched as if it and it alone could hold back the tempest ready to engage and crush and be crushed. In actuality it was more than capable of accomplishing such a feat.
"The calculators and friend aren't lying. There are bombs beneath you."
"It can't stop us."
"Use your nose. Smell. This much can."
"We can move faster than they can blow it! We can jump! Evade!"
"Jump? And make yourself a target enslaved to gravity? Do you really want to maintain a predictable flight arc in front of a bunch of tin targeting computers?"
"Fuck them. They go with us!"
"They will kill most of you before you kill one of them. Not really blitzkrieg when you're sprinting in retreat."
"But. . ."
"I've eaten a Shard before. Lemme tell you, it tasted terrible. Even if you get to the girlcard over there you'll each get about a mouthful between the lot of you. Trust me, Shard crystal tastes like vomited ash and pubic hair. Chiss, I'm sorry, but it's not going to work, now MUSH! Back into the tincan."
"This fucking sucks. Fucking getting our shit pushed in because some mosssucking Robo-God. We're supposed to be badass Facets vampires. We took this planet. We... Ugh. Christ, even paperwork looks appealing right now."
"Shush. We have ice cream back home."
There is general consensus of mumbling and grumbling and air of a bunch of wolves who just got grounded. It doesn't take more than a few moments for them to depart. Kuroro just had to make sure none of the soldiers turned around to talk more trash. Like a schoolteacher tending to her chicky students, the Firestarter marshals the platoon into the troop bay, waves to Alois, and veers off into a tiny pink dot in the black sky as the transport craft zip offs into the imagined sunset.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2014 9:05:35 GMT -8
Once the shuttle was out of sight, Alois visibly relaxed.
"There weren't any charges, were there." It wasn't a question.
Ilum snorted harshly. It sounded like a congested subwoofer trying to clear its sinuses.
"Of course not. How stupid would that have been, to have the whole damn place ready to go off at the first wrong radio signal?"
Alois didn't appear particularly surprised that his friend had been bluffing. The Shard was something of a trickster. It was said that, if left to Ilum, any game of cards with him present would involve the Shard sitting in a room dark room, holding all the cards, and the cards were blank. It was also said that he'd probably trick some poor bastard into thinking it was fun.
"So if there weren't any demo charges, what was she smelling?" Alois asked.
"No clue. There's a vault below us. The last owner of this warehouse was up to some shady shit. Raxa said he wasn't even going to try to break in; the whole thing reeks so badly of detonite that it's not even funny. Either it's a secret arms stash, or the vault is set to light up like a supernova if someone tries to break in. If ol' Pink Eye decided to get froggy, I was going to start pumping depleted baradium into it to see what happened."
The human sighed. He'd heard that there was a such thing as normal friends, who weren't massively powerful robots with death wishes. Most of the time, he pitied those people, but right about now, he thought they might have been onto something.
"Well, we did avoid unnecessary action, and that's what's important. If you'll excuse me, Lord Eralam needs to know that Kuroro is on Eriadu."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jan 26, 2014 9:01:46 GMT -8
Meanwhile, back at the Ranch. . .
. . .except in this case it was a ship and not a ranch. The proud ship Ulvenwald, nicknamed Vraskka by the non Allgemeine detachments hovered somewhere above the rotten cloud layer of Eriadu City, constantly sending out units and routinely taking in civilians for "interviews." These people never returned home, though more often than not most were assigned under gunpoint, often bayonet point, to scrub the decks with hovermops. One particular dropship lands in the hanger bay of this staunch Star Destroyer."Warrant Officer zu Faust: report to the science labs for debrief."Was that the General? Science lab? That didn't make a whole lot of sense. Nevertheless, she left her platoon behind, including Kuroro, and marched off to meet her fate, and oh the fate that awaited her there. |
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Feb 23, 2014 8:50:58 GMT -8
A screen flickers briefly as a long distance transmission scrubs out a spot of interference. Twin orbs of white light and a mouth stretched beyond the limits of human understanding are all that remains against a black void. Not only is it watching, it's also capable of speech.
"vWarrant Offizer Faustus, vwhile it ist true dat dis organization celebrates dee right of individual expression, dere are overzealous uctions vhich jeopardize dee health unt vwell beingk of dee entire Remnant. zYou not only risked dehr lives of zyour platoon, but dehr life of ein shhhpecial captain vo hadt to shhtep in to diffuse dee situation. Moreover, zyour blatant disregardt fuer dehr bigger picture ist disturbingk, especially fuer ein Chiss.
"zYou couldt hafe instigated ein incident vwith Dressel -even ein vwar.
Dee desire to test vone's self in glorious, open conflict ist no sin.
Threateningk our benefactors unt allies leadts to ruination.
Thus, I am afraidt zyou are a defeatist.
EXECUTION TO FOLLOW!"
And with that sentence, with the warrant officer's mouth gaping, two slots with MG42 muzzle brakes poking through open from underneath the screen -not to mention a squad entering from another passage, along with the commanding officer standing guard over the proceedings pulling out his machine pistol. They level their weapons and fire, making sure to spread out their high rates of fire to fill the small room as much as possible with lead.
The roaring of thunder subsides to reveal a rather pockmarked and smeared version of the Chiss woman plastered against the wall with most of her limbs and face sheared away is if each bullet were more of a chisel. Despite this, the newly minted schiff struggles to move as her body is already starting to regenerate. This is when yet another trooper enters while wearing a flamethrower equipped. Casually, the man hoses the now screaming Chiss with a jellied gasoline.
"DON'T VWORRY! BRING HER TO ASH! SHE VWON'T SHHTOP FIGHTINGK OTHERWISE!"
Yells the person on the screen, who is also fighting just to be heard over the licking fire. |
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Feb 24, 2014 8:45:46 GMT -8
And while the routines and political machines are set into place, it would be unbecoming not to mention the presence of Kuroro upon the streets. How could you miss her? In the last week the Pink Nightmare was making local Holonet news at least once a night. Stories of a girl toting a flamethrower and jumping around combat areas were literally lighting up the vids. It didn't help investigators when most of the bodies of the dead in scene mysteriously disappeared.
Still, there was a war on terrorism to be fought, and Kuroro was more than willing to sharpen her metaphorical claws against the bones of police and government holdouts. Hell, anyone with an organization that did not support the in works regime were finding that guards and oodles of weapons didn't really do much with these revolting Fascists running amok -all smiles.
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