---Second round AAR---
Fixing the vox
The voice in the voxcoder’s receiver sounded tinny and a bit irritated: “...you will proceed to coordinates indicated in the recon brief, visually confirm and select the highest building, and proceed to establish a full security cordon. After your confirmation, regimental engineering detail will move in to install the comm relay station. As for the recon brief, we have an unconfirmed orbital augur readout of an armored force moving at AF455, heading to your operational area. No identity established, and no contact. Which should suprise no-one...” A brief static noise interrupted colonel Fuemenne’s tirade. “… oody f... up, Throne! So for once I ag.... th the metal faced freaks from the corps’ machinist conclave, Throne! So grap some tower and mayby we get decent vox cover out here again. Questions?”
Captain Huurika shifted his weight, favoring his left leg. It still ached, would probably for some time, even though the doc had said he was taking the synthoskin well. “Sir, I understood the first is getting armor support?” Vox sputtered. “Sir, say again, sir?” Huurika was forced to ask. “I said, yes, you will get a full section of LR’s from 426th Tank. Try not to get any of them blown up this time, colonel Sarkonne is getting annoyed about the rate we let his toy’s get wrecked.” The colonel’s voice faded and sounded very small, like a cartoon character speaking in children’s vidcast back home on Haruuk. “Sir, we will provide better screening, the drills have been extremely through about that!” “Very well, good luck captain. Fuemenne out.”, the vox squaked and the call ended before Huurika could answer the colonel. Seemed like the old man was in a hurry. He most likely was, and most likely because of the Astartes.
Captain Huurika had heard, while getting patched up at the field hospital, some ugly rumours, of friendly fire accidents, that were not accidents but more like full blown battles, or at least skirmishes. About over eager Adeptus Astartes enforcing purity inspections on Imperial Guard regiments. About the Astartes refusing to acknowledge the Lord General’s orders, or at least interpreting them... differently.
All the rumours agreed that shots had been fired, and that all of the power armored superhumans should be treated warily. There had been whispers about a touch of chaos in all of this, when, after the smoke had lifted, it had been found that imperials had slain imperials.
Personally Huurika thought that talk was incompetents covering up their mistakes, more that any mystic chaos mist drifting around. From his experince, it would be hard to credit the blood crazed zealots of the warp with anything so subtle as deceiving the guard and the astartes against each other. That would more easily fit for some Ordo Inquisition machinations, or even power politics of the sector’s mighty eminences’.
Huurika sighed. He had his orders, and two of his platoons at his disposal. “Voxman, raise the leftenants Chaasine and Woikas. Conf call. Actually, add comissar Wejkovich too.”
---
40K: Kevät 2012
Valvoja: Peliporukkavalvojat
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Kiitokset Miikalle viihdyttävästä pelistä, lysthiä oli.
Nurinaa, ainaista nurinaa...
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Nöyrimmät pahoitteluni, olin eilen estynyt tekemästä paritteluja. Teen ne tässä yön mittaan.
"Payment accepted in radioactive matter, esoteric tomes or human souls."
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Fragments
“Carry on, sergeant!” “Yessir!”. Leftenant Woikas turned, heading for the company command post in the rear corner of the ruined emporium building his platoon was taking fire positions in. Sergeant Matista of the Delta squad continued overseeing the deployment of heavy weapons. The second platoon of Woikas was deployed as a fully combined squad, Woikas having agreed with captain Huurika that the lascannon firepower of the platoon should be combined, in case the unidentified armored force approaching their operational area should turn out to be hostile.
Walking through a bombed out factory kitchen space, Woikas kicked a charred trolley, still full of scorched plates. With a sound of breaking porcelain, it collapsed againts a mound of rubble. Burned and brittle, like the rest of this worthless planet, he thought. Hefting his boltgun, a non-standard rarity piece of equipment, Woikas strode over the pile of burned inner walls and broken remains of culinary apparatus. His tall and well trained form was topped with a desert yellow officer’s cap. As a career soldier from the Haruukian PDF, he had volunteered for the Guard draft. Most of the Haruukian Draft’s units were clad in uniformed mid-tone green, but “PDF vets” had had some discretion in retaining their PDF yellows if they wanted. On a whim, Woikas had kept his PDF cap.
Woikas shifted his treasured boltgun again, working its broad strap higher up on his muscled shoulder, and saluted. “Captain, second platoon in position as ordered, sir.” “Very good, Woikas. Do you have the comm-gizmo the regiment sent?” “Yes sir, my voxman has it installed in his set”, said Woikas, gesturing back to his command squad, in position near the still standing front wall.
“Excellent. Now, comissar Wejkovich is setting up the left flank guard with Leftenant Chaasine, I expect that we can proceed with the measurements quite soon”. Captain Huurika had to raise his voice to get it over the rumbling of motors of the Leman Russ section taking positions just behind the emporium ruin. All three massive tanks would be well sheltered, in cover of the ruined walls, and with most of the company positioned to provide close security for them. Huurika would lose no LR’s at this deployment, no sir he would not.
“Your command squad will move out and climb that central ruined tower. Your vox specialist will take the measurements for the regimental tech staff, and we can all..” “Contact!” yelled Huurika’s vox operator. “Sir, we are being hailed at imperial command frequency!” Huurika, followed closely by Woikas, moved next to the company command’s voxman, who was busily tuning his set. “Signal is clear and powerful... but sir, its also fragmentary...” “Put in on the speaker!” snapped Huurika.
With an elecric humm ending in a high pitched beeping noise the vox machine routed its output. “THIS is IDOLA TRIBUS, CEASE and desist at....” A long thrumming sound, like wordless chanting, interrupted the communication. Just when Huurika was about to slap the operator, voxman’s hectic fiddling of the controls tuned the broadcast back. “We repeat: WE WILL CLEANSE all herectic and rebel elements. THIS IS idola tribus, CEASE and DESIST all activity.”
“Hail them back, and indentify us. Use guard standard IFF transponder” said captain Huurika hastily. “IFF already sending. No return, no acknowledge, sir!” The speaker thundered again “THIS IS IDOLA tribus. WE WILL CLEANSE all unpure. WE will burn the herectic.” Huurika snapped the microphone, thumped the tangent and said as clearly as possible “This is Haruukian 415th regiment, first company, captain Huurika speaking. We are not herectics. We have cleared the immediate viciny, on coordinates...” Woikas quickly held forward his ops map. “...A322 to B327. No chaos activity, I repeat no chaos activity We are not heretice, I repeat, not heretic.”
Blinking green light of the sending stopped. Huurika released the tangent. “Sir, I fear that might have fragmented a bit too... “, the voxman started to say, but the speaker beeped, and the chant-like thrumming started, first almost inaudible but then gaining volume fast. Beep. Then a booming voice: “You DECLARE your heresy?” Thrumming sound. “.. IS idola TRIBUS, you WILL..” Beep. “ … and BE cleansed, by my order as a sacred chaplain of IDOLA TRIBUS. You...”. Thrumming. “...the UNPURE will BURN!”. Red light of the receiving blinked once, then lit back up. Voiceless chant poured from the speaker.
“Shut that down!” Woikas shouted. Huurika nodded, and the specialist cut the speaker. Pale faced, Huurika turned to Woikas. “Get the platoon ready to advance to support you. It might happen some Astartes will try to cleanse us.”
“Carry on, sergeant!” “Yessir!”. Leftenant Woikas turned, heading for the company command post in the rear corner of the ruined emporium building his platoon was taking fire positions in. Sergeant Matista of the Delta squad continued overseeing the deployment of heavy weapons. The second platoon of Woikas was deployed as a fully combined squad, Woikas having agreed with captain Huurika that the lascannon firepower of the platoon should be combined, in case the unidentified armored force approaching their operational area should turn out to be hostile.
Walking through a bombed out factory kitchen space, Woikas kicked a charred trolley, still full of scorched plates. With a sound of breaking porcelain, it collapsed againts a mound of rubble. Burned and brittle, like the rest of this worthless planet, he thought. Hefting his boltgun, a non-standard rarity piece of equipment, Woikas strode over the pile of burned inner walls and broken remains of culinary apparatus. His tall and well trained form was topped with a desert yellow officer’s cap. As a career soldier from the Haruukian PDF, he had volunteered for the Guard draft. Most of the Haruukian Draft’s units were clad in uniformed mid-tone green, but “PDF vets” had had some discretion in retaining their PDF yellows if they wanted. On a whim, Woikas had kept his PDF cap.
Woikas shifted his treasured boltgun again, working its broad strap higher up on his muscled shoulder, and saluted. “Captain, second platoon in position as ordered, sir.” “Very good, Woikas. Do you have the comm-gizmo the regiment sent?” “Yes sir, my voxman has it installed in his set”, said Woikas, gesturing back to his command squad, in position near the still standing front wall.
“Excellent. Now, comissar Wejkovich is setting up the left flank guard with Leftenant Chaasine, I expect that we can proceed with the measurements quite soon”. Captain Huurika had to raise his voice to get it over the rumbling of motors of the Leman Russ section taking positions just behind the emporium ruin. All three massive tanks would be well sheltered, in cover of the ruined walls, and with most of the company positioned to provide close security for them. Huurika would lose no LR’s at this deployment, no sir he would not.
“Your command squad will move out and climb that central ruined tower. Your vox specialist will take the measurements for the regimental tech staff, and we can all..” “Contact!” yelled Huurika’s vox operator. “Sir, we are being hailed at imperial command frequency!” Huurika, followed closely by Woikas, moved next to the company command’s voxman, who was busily tuning his set. “Signal is clear and powerful... but sir, its also fragmentary...” “Put in on the speaker!” snapped Huurika.
With an elecric humm ending in a high pitched beeping noise the vox machine routed its output. “THIS is IDOLA TRIBUS, CEASE and desist at....” A long thrumming sound, like wordless chanting, interrupted the communication. Just when Huurika was about to slap the operator, voxman’s hectic fiddling of the controls tuned the broadcast back. “We repeat: WE WILL CLEANSE all herectic and rebel elements. THIS IS idola tribus, CEASE and DESIST all activity.”
“Hail them back, and indentify us. Use guard standard IFF transponder” said captain Huurika hastily. “IFF already sending. No return, no acknowledge, sir!” The speaker thundered again “THIS IS IDOLA tribus. WE WILL CLEANSE all unpure. WE will burn the herectic.” Huurika snapped the microphone, thumped the tangent and said as clearly as possible “This is Haruukian 415th regiment, first company, captain Huurika speaking. We are not herectics. We have cleared the immediate viciny, on coordinates...” Woikas quickly held forward his ops map. “...A322 to B327. No chaos activity, I repeat no chaos activity We are not heretice, I repeat, not heretic.”
Blinking green light of the sending stopped. Huurika released the tangent. “Sir, I fear that might have fragmented a bit too... “, the voxman started to say, but the speaker beeped, and the chant-like thrumming started, first almost inaudible but then gaining volume fast. Beep. Then a booming voice: “You DECLARE your heresy?” Thrumming sound. “.. IS idola TRIBUS, you WILL..” Beep. “ … and BE cleansed, by my order as a sacred chaplain of IDOLA TRIBUS. You...”. Thrumming. “...the UNPURE will BURN!”. Red light of the receiving blinked once, then lit back up. Voiceless chant poured from the speaker.
“Shut that down!” Woikas shouted. Huurika nodded, and the specialist cut the speaker. Pale faced, Huurika turned to Woikas. “Get the platoon ready to advance to support you. It might happen some Astartes will try to cleanse us.”
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Olikos kierroksen 3 kohdalla tarkoitus scorettaa niitä kontrollipisteitä per kierros, vai vasta lopuksi?
Kysyy epätietoinen.
Kysyy epätietoinen.
-
Sami Jumppanen
- Viestit: 1946
- Liittynyt: Ke 16.02.2005 16:41
- Paikkakunta: Joensuu
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Nyt kun mainitset, niin tuo on kyllä hyvä kysymys, mutta kun tarkastelee tuota tehtävän kuvausta tarkemmin, niin sieltä löytyy maininta "Osia voi vallata ja Contestoida kuten objektiiveja" ja siitä ei ole mainintaa, että pisteitä saisi joka vuorolla. Myöskin tuo 3 pinnaa per neljännes kuulostaisi aika paljolta, jos sen saisi joka vuoro.Timmon kirjoitti:Olikos kierroksen 3 kohdalla tarkoitus scorettaa niitä kontrollipisteitä per kierros, vai vasta lopuksi?
Kysyy epätietoinen.
Mutta Lauri saa tarkentaa, minä vaan arvaan.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Joo. Maininta siitä että tasan jakautunut troop on enemmistön puolella aina seuraavaan moveen asti oli sellainen että rupesin miettimään onko loppupisteytys vai juokseva. Objektiiviscenut kyllä toki scoretaan vaan lopussa. Ehkä tässä pitäs olla enempi RAW näissä scenlukemisissa. :)
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Deceived
“Rhino! Two Rhinos. Ten o’clock, by the hillside” “I see it! Lascannons, target closest Rhino”, bellowed Oikan. His beta squad was combined with the alfa of Ulvinne. The combined squad had been moving left of the second platoon and company command, to provide a flank guard, when captain Huurika had warned that inbound Astartes might turn out to be... non-friendly.
“Ach, they are moving carefully. Must be heading behind that ruined tower”, comissar Wejkovich commented, standing next to Oikan on top the rocky hillock they had selected as fire position. Comissar’s red shash of rank flapped lazily in the brisk morning breeze. “We will hold our position, and declare our allegiance to the Emperor. If needs be, we will stand firm in execution of our orders!” Wejkovich declared, just loud enough to be overheard by most of the combined squad.
“Sir! Contact! Woods, eleven o’clock, high, on the ridge.” a soldier called out. Oikan trained his magnoculars, small sanctified motors whirring as the focus sharpened. “I see it, private LePannie. Its a bloody Predator, it is, and full of lascannons. Wonder what our armored brothers think of that.” Oikan curtly told the voxman to relay new contact to Leman Russ section, and then contined to survey the opposing force. “There’s something behind that tank too... rockets?” “Ach, let me see”, the comissar said, taking the oculars offered by Oikan. “It is a Whirlwind. We may get fiery rain on our necks if this comes to blows”, Wejkovich said cryptically, and turned to the vox operator. “Get me captain Huurika. We may have a mission for Mecharats”.
Quieting down and each checking his cover as best they could, the guardsmen waited. Rhinos had disappeared behind a ruined corner, their motors still audible. The breeze died. A rumbling noice could heard, coming from the left. “Contact! Walkers!” a private yelled. “I have it. Hold your fire!”, Oikan answered. “Dreadnoughts... moving in, they are closing”, Oikan remarked to sergeant Ulvinne, who had come up to the hillocks crest too. Comissar Wejkovich was still talking to the captain in hushed tones. “I wonder what this is all about”, whispered Ulvinne almost to himself.
Metallic grating voice boomed from the ponderously advancing lead walker: “PURIFY the unclean! SMASH the traitor!” Its huge assault cannon started to whirl, accelerating up to operational speed. “Oh Throne, they are gonna...” a lascannon gunner started to shout, but in that instant his voice was drowned out as the three battlecannons of the Leman Russ section fired as a ragged volley, each blast echoing from the ruins. Someone had been deceived.
“Rhino! Two Rhinos. Ten o’clock, by the hillside” “I see it! Lascannons, target closest Rhino”, bellowed Oikan. His beta squad was combined with the alfa of Ulvinne. The combined squad had been moving left of the second platoon and company command, to provide a flank guard, when captain Huurika had warned that inbound Astartes might turn out to be... non-friendly.
“Ach, they are moving carefully. Must be heading behind that ruined tower”, comissar Wejkovich commented, standing next to Oikan on top the rocky hillock they had selected as fire position. Comissar’s red shash of rank flapped lazily in the brisk morning breeze. “We will hold our position, and declare our allegiance to the Emperor. If needs be, we will stand firm in execution of our orders!” Wejkovich declared, just loud enough to be overheard by most of the combined squad.
“Sir! Contact! Woods, eleven o’clock, high, on the ridge.” a soldier called out. Oikan trained his magnoculars, small sanctified motors whirring as the focus sharpened. “I see it, private LePannie. Its a bloody Predator, it is, and full of lascannons. Wonder what our armored brothers think of that.” Oikan curtly told the voxman to relay new contact to Leman Russ section, and then contined to survey the opposing force. “There’s something behind that tank too... rockets?” “Ach, let me see”, the comissar said, taking the oculars offered by Oikan. “It is a Whirlwind. We may get fiery rain on our necks if this comes to blows”, Wejkovich said cryptically, and turned to the vox operator. “Get me captain Huurika. We may have a mission for Mecharats”.
Quieting down and each checking his cover as best they could, the guardsmen waited. Rhinos had disappeared behind a ruined corner, their motors still audible. The breeze died. A rumbling noice could heard, coming from the left. “Contact! Walkers!” a private yelled. “I have it. Hold your fire!”, Oikan answered. “Dreadnoughts... moving in, they are closing”, Oikan remarked to sergeant Ulvinne, who had come up to the hillocks crest too. Comissar Wejkovich was still talking to the captain in hushed tones. “I wonder what this is all about”, whispered Ulvinne almost to himself.
Metallic grating voice boomed from the ponderously advancing lead walker: “PURIFY the unclean! SMASH the traitor!” Its huge assault cannon started to whirl, accelerating up to operational speed. “Oh Throne, they are gonna...” a lascannon gunner started to shout, but in that instant his voice was drowned out as the three battlecannons of the Leman Russ section fired as a ragged volley, each blast echoing from the ruins. Someone had been deceived.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
They will not reach us
“Sergeant Matista to company command. Warning shots were... good, but the Astartes are still moving forward. Orders?”. For a moment Matista heard nothing from the vox. Then the captain sighed, and reluctantly said: “Defend the position. Engage the... hostiles.” “Understood. Engaging. Matista out.” As vox operator cut the connection, Matista turned and yelled: “Ok lads, they didn’t take the hint from the russes, so its lascannon time. Fire at will!”. He heard the other two sergeants of the second platoon repeat orders, and corporals declaring targets for lascannons and fireteams.
Turning to look again at the.. attackers, Matista hoped against hope they would retire. But no. They truly were the Emperor’s Astartes. Warning shots fired by the armored section, aimed in front of the purple and yellow warriors, had actually hit the Astartes, as they had not even slowed down when captain Huurika had requested a parley over the vox.
At least half the Astartes team was down, Matista reckoned. Others were... jumping, or flying, with the overlarge backpacks they had, landing in the ruined basilica a hundred meters in front of the guard’s position, taking some cover amid the fallen masonry. Lascannons cracked with blue flashes. Only the forward element of the combined squad had effective range for their lasguns, but fear made men eager to shoot anyway. More of the marines dropped down, or turned back to ruins, assisting more grieviously wounded brothers.
They will not reach us, the sergeant slowly realized. Only an ominous black armored figure was still standing. Matista switched on his short range voxbead. “We ARE idola TRIBUS, the HERETIC will be purged...” the rant continued. Shivering, he switched the bead off. What are we doing, fulfilling the herectic’s job, shooting at the Marines? And where the hell was leftenant Woikas? Officers never around when you really need them, Throne! Nevertheless, orders are orders. “Recharge! They will not move the guard!” Matista yelled, moving up to a rubble pile to get a better view of the combined squad.
The chaplain in his black armor was ripped apart as the next lascannon discharged and hit him squarely in the chest.
“Sergeant Matista to company command. Warning shots were... good, but the Astartes are still moving forward. Orders?”. For a moment Matista heard nothing from the vox. Then the captain sighed, and reluctantly said: “Defend the position. Engage the... hostiles.” “Understood. Engaging. Matista out.” As vox operator cut the connection, Matista turned and yelled: “Ok lads, they didn’t take the hint from the russes, so its lascannon time. Fire at will!”. He heard the other two sergeants of the second platoon repeat orders, and corporals declaring targets for lascannons and fireteams.
Turning to look again at the.. attackers, Matista hoped against hope they would retire. But no. They truly were the Emperor’s Astartes. Warning shots fired by the armored section, aimed in front of the purple and yellow warriors, had actually hit the Astartes, as they had not even slowed down when captain Huurika had requested a parley over the vox.
At least half the Astartes team was down, Matista reckoned. Others were... jumping, or flying, with the overlarge backpacks they had, landing in the ruined basilica a hundred meters in front of the guard’s position, taking some cover amid the fallen masonry. Lascannons cracked with blue flashes. Only the forward element of the combined squad had effective range for their lasguns, but fear made men eager to shoot anyway. More of the marines dropped down, or turned back to ruins, assisting more grieviously wounded brothers.
They will not reach us, the sergeant slowly realized. Only an ominous black armored figure was still standing. Matista switched on his short range voxbead. “We ARE idola TRIBUS, the HERETIC will be purged...” the rant continued. Shivering, he switched the bead off. What are we doing, fulfilling the herectic’s job, shooting at the Marines? And where the hell was leftenant Woikas? Officers never around when you really need them, Throne! Nevertheless, orders are orders. “Recharge! They will not move the guard!” Matista yelled, moving up to a rubble pile to get a better view of the combined squad.
The chaplain in his black armor was ripped apart as the next lascannon discharged and hit him squarely in the chest.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Huhhuh, siinähän oli taas meno päällä. Sebastianille kiitos erittäin hauskasta matsista. On jännää kun kummallakin pelaajalla menee hyvin, mutta on vielä jännempää kun kummallakin pelaajalla menee vähän kaikki persiilleen.
Edit: Ups, näköjään meni nuo killpointtisäännöt vähän väärin. No, eipä tuo tulos olisi siinä juurikaan muuttunut.
Edit: Ups, näköjään meni nuo killpointtisäännöt vähän väärin. No, eipä tuo tulos olisi siinä juurikaan muuttunut.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
---
They will reach us
Leftenant Chaasine was running. He had been talking to the ensign Roipas of the 426th Tank, the leader of the section now supporting first company, when the coin dropped. Behind him his command squad also jogged and sweated, bearing the flamers. Throne! I have to see what is incoming.... up there! Chaasine climbed fast, seeking footholds from the stark grey granite of a small hillock between the Leman Russes and his combined platoon’s fire positions. He got up on the highest ledge, and looked west, to the left end of the ruin field. Needing no magnoculars, he saw the purple dreadnoughts moving forward, followed by a Rhino, dashing through a large, muddy impact crater.
The first platoon fired, lascannons silhouetted momentarily by their blue discharge. Oikan must be commanding, or Wejkovich. And that must be Farouk with his plasma gun, Chaasine realized when a blinding orange bolt shot against a dreadnought. The rhino had been much slowed by the mud, and its driver had decided to discharge smoke, the greyish cloud half obscuring the armored carrier. First platoon’s heavy volley had been aimed at the hulking walkers instead, but smoke or no smoke, the lascannons had failed to find weak spots in their armor. At least the plasma shot made one of the ancient brothers stagger, its menacing assault cannon jerking with badly syncronised barrel movements.
The flamers are of no use... taking a look over his shoulder, Chaasine realized that the second platoon would not be able to support first effectively with its lascannons. We are not in the place we should have been, dammit. The deployment was not finished...Throne! A sudden staccato noise made him turn back to the dreadnoughts. One of them fired several short bursts from its assault cannon, the rounds exploding among the first platoon, effortlessly puncturing flak armor of the guardsmen. “Back down! Go!”, the leftenant shouted, gesturing for his vox operator to turn around and descend the hillock.
Half way down, he noticed a second Rhino, speeding in from behind a ruined corner still stading two storeys high. The ruins it had used as a cover separated it from the other Astartes war machines, but it was likewise closing in on the first platoon, the platoon Chaasine was commanding. Should be commanding!
We don’t have enough firepower... they will reach us, they will charge the platoon soon! By now, Chaasine knew enough about the marines and their power armor to know that if his platoon should be hit by a charge of marines, it would go down and go down fast.
Catching his balance, the leftenant slid down the last meters, hitting the sickly green grass running again, desperately trying to reach his platoon.
They will reach us
Leftenant Chaasine was running. He had been talking to the ensign Roipas of the 426th Tank, the leader of the section now supporting first company, when the coin dropped. Behind him his command squad also jogged and sweated, bearing the flamers. Throne! I have to see what is incoming.... up there! Chaasine climbed fast, seeking footholds from the stark grey granite of a small hillock between the Leman Russes and his combined platoon’s fire positions. He got up on the highest ledge, and looked west, to the left end of the ruin field. Needing no magnoculars, he saw the purple dreadnoughts moving forward, followed by a Rhino, dashing through a large, muddy impact crater.
The first platoon fired, lascannons silhouetted momentarily by their blue discharge. Oikan must be commanding, or Wejkovich. And that must be Farouk with his plasma gun, Chaasine realized when a blinding orange bolt shot against a dreadnought. The rhino had been much slowed by the mud, and its driver had decided to discharge smoke, the greyish cloud half obscuring the armored carrier. First platoon’s heavy volley had been aimed at the hulking walkers instead, but smoke or no smoke, the lascannons had failed to find weak spots in their armor. At least the plasma shot made one of the ancient brothers stagger, its menacing assault cannon jerking with badly syncronised barrel movements.
The flamers are of no use... taking a look over his shoulder, Chaasine realized that the second platoon would not be able to support first effectively with its lascannons. We are not in the place we should have been, dammit. The deployment was not finished...Throne! A sudden staccato noise made him turn back to the dreadnoughts. One of them fired several short bursts from its assault cannon, the rounds exploding among the first platoon, effortlessly puncturing flak armor of the guardsmen. “Back down! Go!”, the leftenant shouted, gesturing for his vox operator to turn around and descend the hillock.
Half way down, he noticed a second Rhino, speeding in from behind a ruined corner still stading two storeys high. The ruins it had used as a cover separated it from the other Astartes war machines, but it was likewise closing in on the first platoon, the platoon Chaasine was commanding. Should be commanding!
We don’t have enough firepower... they will reach us, they will charge the platoon soon! By now, Chaasine knew enough about the marines and their power armor to know that if his platoon should be hit by a charge of marines, it would go down and go down fast.
Catching his balance, the leftenant slid down the last meters, hitting the sickly green grass running again, desperately trying to reach his platoon.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Kysymys liigan järjestäjälle: jos nyt 3.kierroksen jälkeen ollaan tilanteessa jossa minä, Lauri, Joni ja Miika ollaan kaikki kuudessa pisteessä. Miten meidän keskinen järjestys ja paritukset määräytyy? Vissiinki randomilla arvot?
The plan required something that felt no pity. No pain. No fear. Something unstoppable.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Kovimmat jätkät vastakkai. Tai arpomalla.Pecu kirjoitti:Kysymys liigan järjestäjälle: jos nyt 3.kierroksen jälkeen ollaan tilanteessa jossa minä, Lauri, Joni ja Miika ollaan kaikki kuudessa pisteessä. Miten meidän keskinen järjestys ja paritukset määräytyy? Vissiinki randomilla arvot?
Ja objektiivipisteet lasketaan pelin lopussa. Erillinen maininta kyllä löytyy jos niitä lasketaan pitkin peliä.
"Payment accepted in radioactive matter, esoteric tomes or human souls."
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
One hit to stop them
“Frontal attack is beaten back, sir. But I am worried about the first platoon, sir.” Voice of leftenant Woikas, heard from the vox, betrayed none of the misgivings captain Huurika himself felt. “Very good, leftenant. Prepare second platoon to move out, but cautiously. Primary assignment remains covering the right flank, secondary is to support the first. I will assign the Russes to help Chaasine.” Huurika let the training take over, to better focus on the task at hand. Which was not to try to kill Emperor’s Astartes, but to complete the mission. Just so. Complete the mission. “Yes sir!” Woikas acknowledged. “Huurika, out”. The captain handed the headset back to his vox operator.
“I have to get a visual on what happens there”, he said waving his hand towards the left flank. Company command squad started to move forward, led by Huurika, cautiosly approaching the front wall of the emporium’s ruined remains. His standard bearer had the company’s regimental colours still furled. Huurika sighed. Obviously Viitinne can’t decide whether we are gloriously eliminating the imperium’s foes, or making an embarrassing and deadly mistake. I wish I knew.
Sudden whistling noise, rapidly increasing in pitch, made him take cover. Someone yelled “Incoming!” but it was overpowered by a explosion, followed by a wooshing sound and bright yellow flash. Incendiary airburst, Huurika realized. And already zeroed in.
The rockets had detonated over the emporium, but on the right end of the large ruined building. Lucky for us... but all the more reason to hope mecharats got the orders correctly. Aloud Huurika said “That was just warm-up. Let’s move forward, I want to eyeball that launcher, and put our lascannons to good use. Shows them not to drop candles on top of the Haruukians!” Voxman Glistensse smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
A moment later the squad arrived at the large breach, front left corner of the building. A large chunk of the buiding had totally collapsed. Leftenant Woikas had his command squad hiding bit further away, at the outer edge of the ruins, ready to dash across the trash littered avenue to the still standing tower.
Huurika surveyed the battlefield, gazing to the left, where the first platoon was confronting the marine warmachines, then to the wooded plateau behind the town. He saw a blue flash, or mayby several in quick succession, and thought he heard a report of a lascannon, but could not discern where that fire was directed. A tank, or heavy weapons, hiding in the woods.
Snapping his fingers for the voxman, Huurika said “Get me Ensign Roipas.” He had just gotten the headphones on his head, when the youthful voice of Roipas answered with textbook precision: “Ensign Roipas reporting, 426th Tank, co 3, blue section.” “Ensign, I want you to move out, to support the first platoon at left flank. They will provide close security as drilled.” “Negative, sir. My lead vehicle just received a hit, and is immobilized.” “Throne, go around it!” “Sir, we cannot push past it, the ruins are too substantial. With respect sir, Russes will not turn on a penny, and attaching a tow cables will take time.” “Very well. Do you have a fire lane to provice fire support?” “Sir, the section is battle worthy, and can lay out fire from nine to fourteen. But we can concentrate only twelve to fourteen.”
For a moment Huurika fell silent. Roipas waited. “That has to suffice then. Allocate as much fire as you can to the target group one, which has the dreadnoughts.” “Yes sir!” “Huurika out.” Bloody tanks. Let them go out, they get blown up, keep them close, one hit stops them all. Throne! At least their monster cannons chew up power armor for good.
The ruins echoed with battlecannon shots even before Huurika had handed the headset back to Glistensse.
“Frontal attack is beaten back, sir. But I am worried about the first platoon, sir.” Voice of leftenant Woikas, heard from the vox, betrayed none of the misgivings captain Huurika himself felt. “Very good, leftenant. Prepare second platoon to move out, but cautiously. Primary assignment remains covering the right flank, secondary is to support the first. I will assign the Russes to help Chaasine.” Huurika let the training take over, to better focus on the task at hand. Which was not to try to kill Emperor’s Astartes, but to complete the mission. Just so. Complete the mission. “Yes sir!” Woikas acknowledged. “Huurika, out”. The captain handed the headset back to his vox operator.
“I have to get a visual on what happens there”, he said waving his hand towards the left flank. Company command squad started to move forward, led by Huurika, cautiosly approaching the front wall of the emporium’s ruined remains. His standard bearer had the company’s regimental colours still furled. Huurika sighed. Obviously Viitinne can’t decide whether we are gloriously eliminating the imperium’s foes, or making an embarrassing and deadly mistake. I wish I knew.
Sudden whistling noise, rapidly increasing in pitch, made him take cover. Someone yelled “Incoming!” but it was overpowered by a explosion, followed by a wooshing sound and bright yellow flash. Incendiary airburst, Huurika realized. And already zeroed in.
The rockets had detonated over the emporium, but on the right end of the large ruined building. Lucky for us... but all the more reason to hope mecharats got the orders correctly. Aloud Huurika said “That was just warm-up. Let’s move forward, I want to eyeball that launcher, and put our lascannons to good use. Shows them not to drop candles on top of the Haruukians!” Voxman Glistensse smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
A moment later the squad arrived at the large breach, front left corner of the building. A large chunk of the buiding had totally collapsed. Leftenant Woikas had his command squad hiding bit further away, at the outer edge of the ruins, ready to dash across the trash littered avenue to the still standing tower.
Huurika surveyed the battlefield, gazing to the left, where the first platoon was confronting the marine warmachines, then to the wooded plateau behind the town. He saw a blue flash, or mayby several in quick succession, and thought he heard a report of a lascannon, but could not discern where that fire was directed. A tank, or heavy weapons, hiding in the woods.
Snapping his fingers for the voxman, Huurika said “Get me Ensign Roipas.” He had just gotten the headphones on his head, when the youthful voice of Roipas answered with textbook precision: “Ensign Roipas reporting, 426th Tank, co 3, blue section.” “Ensign, I want you to move out, to support the first platoon at left flank. They will provide close security as drilled.” “Negative, sir. My lead vehicle just received a hit, and is immobilized.” “Throne, go around it!” “Sir, we cannot push past it, the ruins are too substantial. With respect sir, Russes will not turn on a penny, and attaching a tow cables will take time.” “Very well. Do you have a fire lane to provice fire support?” “Sir, the section is battle worthy, and can lay out fire from nine to fourteen. But we can concentrate only twelve to fourteen.”
For a moment Huurika fell silent. Roipas waited. “That has to suffice then. Allocate as much fire as you can to the target group one, which has the dreadnoughts.” “Yes sir!” “Huurika out.” Bloody tanks. Let them go out, they get blown up, keep them close, one hit stops them all. Throne! At least their monster cannons chew up power armor for good.
The ruins echoed with battlecannon shots even before Huurika had handed the headset back to Glistensse.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Give up
“Ach, steady now, here they come!”, bellowed comissar Wejkovich.
Leman Russes had thundered several times, sending their huge shot speeding over the first platoon, almost scraping the helmet tops. Impacts had sent up bursts of earth and broken rockcrete, spoiling the paint job of the approaching dreadnoughts, but otherwise leaving them unharmed. Likewise, lascannon shots from both platoons had had little success against the walkers, but the speeding rhino, pulling ahead of the metal monsters, had received several hits, and stopped couching clouds of bluish smoke. From its hatches, Astartes had jumped out bolt pistols firing, combat blades held in expert grip.
“On the left! Target that!” a private hunkering down at the platoons left flank yelled, voice rising in panic. A second Rhino was driving hard towards the guardsmen. Oikan, standing next to the comissar on top of the hill, was sure the carrier would smash itself against the granite. On the last possible moment it slewed around braking hard, slowing down, top hatches popped open, and purple armored marines emerged. An orange flame burst over the hill and unlucky soldiers trying to hide behind boulders, hot air swooshing over Oikan’s hard-set face.
Bolter shots hit the platoon from right and left, easily puncturing flak armor if its wearer was stupid or slow enought not to take cover in time. Oikan crouched down and sent an answering shot from his own bolt pistol, aiming for the flamer operator. We are badly suppressed, and they will charge us... “Get back! Alfa squad, covering fire!” sergeant Ulvinne shouted next to him, scrambling down the slope, trying to keep left flank of their position in fight. Oikan turned and sprinted towards the marines from the destroyed rhino, already among guardsmen holding platoon’s right flank.
Comissar Wejkovich was there already, his power sword rising and falling in expert parries. Oikan saw the attackers up close first time. These are not the chaos madmen... no, they really are imperials, Oikan thought, but a combat blade held in purple gauntlet forced him to concentrate on his own swordwork.
Several guardsmen were already down, a lascannon was overturned. The marines pushed up the hill, rollling up the platoon's position. They were not frenzied berserkers, but perfomed their assault with consumnate skill. Oikan parried again and again, his synthoarm lending him strenght to push back against geneseed enhanced muscles of the marines.
A private sprang up behind a rock, seeing opening, stabbed a marine whose cut Oikan had just parried. The bayonet scraped ceramite armor, then broke. The marine slapped guardman’s almost useless lasgun with his bolt pistol, sending it clattering down the slope, and with the same move lined up a shot. But Oikan saw the aim move from a killing chest shot to a wounding one. Bolt pistol barked, the shot crushed private’s pauldron, goring open the shoulder but not even severing the arm. They are not finishing us!
A parry, Oikan drawing up his own bolt pistol, then... hesitating. A combat blade rose up, but did not strike again. Red eye lenses focused on Oikan’s face, and slightly metallic voice demanded calmly but powerfully “Give up your senseless fight, sergeant of the guard!” Oikan lowered his powersword, disconnected it, and gave the order: “First platoon, cease fire. We surrender.”
“Ach, steady now, here they come!”, bellowed comissar Wejkovich.
Leman Russes had thundered several times, sending their huge shot speeding over the first platoon, almost scraping the helmet tops. Impacts had sent up bursts of earth and broken rockcrete, spoiling the paint job of the approaching dreadnoughts, but otherwise leaving them unharmed. Likewise, lascannon shots from both platoons had had little success against the walkers, but the speeding rhino, pulling ahead of the metal monsters, had received several hits, and stopped couching clouds of bluish smoke. From its hatches, Astartes had jumped out bolt pistols firing, combat blades held in expert grip.
“On the left! Target that!” a private hunkering down at the platoons left flank yelled, voice rising in panic. A second Rhino was driving hard towards the guardsmen. Oikan, standing next to the comissar on top of the hill, was sure the carrier would smash itself against the granite. On the last possible moment it slewed around braking hard, slowing down, top hatches popped open, and purple armored marines emerged. An orange flame burst over the hill and unlucky soldiers trying to hide behind boulders, hot air swooshing over Oikan’s hard-set face.
Bolter shots hit the platoon from right and left, easily puncturing flak armor if its wearer was stupid or slow enought not to take cover in time. Oikan crouched down and sent an answering shot from his own bolt pistol, aiming for the flamer operator. We are badly suppressed, and they will charge us... “Get back! Alfa squad, covering fire!” sergeant Ulvinne shouted next to him, scrambling down the slope, trying to keep left flank of their position in fight. Oikan turned and sprinted towards the marines from the destroyed rhino, already among guardsmen holding platoon’s right flank.
Comissar Wejkovich was there already, his power sword rising and falling in expert parries. Oikan saw the attackers up close first time. These are not the chaos madmen... no, they really are imperials, Oikan thought, but a combat blade held in purple gauntlet forced him to concentrate on his own swordwork.
Several guardsmen were already down, a lascannon was overturned. The marines pushed up the hill, rollling up the platoon's position. They were not frenzied berserkers, but perfomed their assault with consumnate skill. Oikan parried again and again, his synthoarm lending him strenght to push back against geneseed enhanced muscles of the marines.
A private sprang up behind a rock, seeing opening, stabbed a marine whose cut Oikan had just parried. The bayonet scraped ceramite armor, then broke. The marine slapped guardman’s almost useless lasgun with his bolt pistol, sending it clattering down the slope, and with the same move lined up a shot. But Oikan saw the aim move from a killing chest shot to a wounding one. Bolt pistol barked, the shot crushed private’s pauldron, goring open the shoulder but not even severing the arm. They are not finishing us!
A parry, Oikan drawing up his own bolt pistol, then... hesitating. A combat blade rose up, but did not strike again. Red eye lenses focused on Oikan’s face, and slightly metallic voice demanded calmly but powerfully “Give up your senseless fight, sergeant of the guard!” Oikan lowered his powersword, disconnected it, and gave the order: “First platoon, cease fire. We surrender.”
-
Sami Jumppanen
- Viestit: 1946
- Liittynyt: Ke 16.02.2005 16:41
- Paikkakunta: Joensuu
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Huomasimpahan tuossa sääntökysymyksen ja en muista, onko meillä tulkintaa tästä säännöstä turnausta varten, joten saako Laurilta lausunnon?
http://www.sotavasara.net/keskustelu/vi ... 0&t=100809
http://www.sotavasara.net/keskustelu/vi ... 0&t=100809
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Ookko varma että haluut miulta lausuntoja Space Wolfejen suhteen :DSami Jumppanen kirjoitti:Huomasimpahan tuossa sääntökysymyksen ja en muista, onko meillä tulkintaa tästä säännöstä turnausta varten, joten saako Laurilta lausunnon?
http://www.sotavasara.net/keskustelu/vi ... 0&t=100809
No mut joo, kyl Dreadnoughteihi miun mielest osuu Wolftooth Necklacel varustettu jamppa tuloksella 3+. Ei oo sääntökirjaa täs anoppilas, mut muistaakseni Grenade vs. Walker -tilannetta ei määritellä mitenkään tietyksi erityistilanteeksi. Vaan ainoastaan sanotaan että osuu kutosel.
"Saatan kyl olla väärässäki"
-Yks juopunut hippi
"Ceterum censeo Space Wolves esse delendam"
-Suuri Cato
"Payment accepted in radioactive matter, esoteric tomes or human souls."
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Inner storm
“...permission to eng... ...stile MRL?” “Huurika to Mecharats, engage, I repeat, engage”, captain Huurika ordered, keeping his voice calm and professional. Headphones went silent, then filled with thrumming noice. Huurika waved his hand but Glistensse had noticed disturbance from his instruments, and tuned the comm again. “...is not... so do we... gage anyway, sir?”, the fragmentary voice of the mecharats section leader was barely audible. “Huurika to Mecharats. Engage the hostiles!” “Yes sir, mecharats engaging!” came the reponse at once, loud and clear. “Huurika out.” This vox messiness is giving me a headache. We really need to set up that power relay somewhere. With a sigh, Huurika told the vox operator: “Get me ensign Roipas”. Before the connection was made, the headset beeped with incoming call, Glistensse quickly saying “Its sergeant Roihenne, sir, he is inbound now!”
“Huurika here”. Vox thrummed again, but not even that unearhtly disturbance could blanket out meaty voice of sergeant Roihenne. “Sir, ETA 1 minute. Targets?” “Walkers. Those dreadnoughts.” said Huurika at once. “Listen, sergeant, it appears the hostiles... may be misdirected imperials.” “Sir?”, Roihenne’s voice was loaded full of so-what-if-it-shoots-you-shoot-back -attitude. “Sergeant, if you confirm that visually, you need to disengage, is that clear?” “Sir... yes sir. Roihenne out.” Connection ended with a click.
Huurika rose up, having crouched in cover behind a ruined roof arch with his voxman. “Leftenant Woikas!” the captain shouted, and Woikas left his command squad, picked carefully his way back to the main bulk of the ruined emporium, keeping low and in cover. “Yes sir?” asked the leftenant when close enough, kneeling down in cover, setting his boltgun’s stock down on ash covered ground.
“Woikas, get the second platoon to move out slowly, in firing line. Try to cover that ruin”, said Huurika indicating a ruined building some three hundered meters away from his ops map, “with the right end of the line, and keep the left end here. Then, assuming first platoon holds up, you will proceed to the target tower and take the measurements.” The captain searched the leftenant’s eyes for... understanding, or doubt? He only found the hard professional edge. Woikas would follow orders as long as they made sense, not lose his focus wondering the purpose of it all. “Yes sir, will do!” said Woikas briskly, saluted, and turned to move back to his squad, bolgun held at ready.
A series of distant explosions made themselves heard over the ding of the battle closer at had. Vox operator Glistensse reported “Mecharats have hit the hostile MRL. Sir, they report it is not a chaos one.” Then he fiddled again with his tuning controls, a brief look of pain on his face. “Lost the rest of the message... wait. Now... “ his face eased up. “They report again, hostile tank is shooting... one of the sentinels is down. Orders, sir?” “Tell him to keep in cover, and to keep that launcher occupied!” snapped Huurika. “Then try to reach those hostiles again on imperial frequencies.” We have to get this stopped.... they are not chaos spawn, and we are not heretics. And damn the colonel for leaving us in this mess.
Leman Russes shot again, one hitting hidden hostiles on the wooded ridge, the other impacts almost on top of the first platoon’s position, the booming reports of large caliber cannons like a manifestation of Captain Huurika’s inner storm.
“...permission to eng... ...stile MRL?” “Huurika to Mecharats, engage, I repeat, engage”, captain Huurika ordered, keeping his voice calm and professional. Headphones went silent, then filled with thrumming noice. Huurika waved his hand but Glistensse had noticed disturbance from his instruments, and tuned the comm again. “...is not... so do we... gage anyway, sir?”, the fragmentary voice of the mecharats section leader was barely audible. “Huurika to Mecharats. Engage the hostiles!” “Yes sir, mecharats engaging!” came the reponse at once, loud and clear. “Huurika out.” This vox messiness is giving me a headache. We really need to set up that power relay somewhere. With a sigh, Huurika told the vox operator: “Get me ensign Roipas”. Before the connection was made, the headset beeped with incoming call, Glistensse quickly saying “Its sergeant Roihenne, sir, he is inbound now!”
“Huurika here”. Vox thrummed again, but not even that unearhtly disturbance could blanket out meaty voice of sergeant Roihenne. “Sir, ETA 1 minute. Targets?” “Walkers. Those dreadnoughts.” said Huurika at once. “Listen, sergeant, it appears the hostiles... may be misdirected imperials.” “Sir?”, Roihenne’s voice was loaded full of so-what-if-it-shoots-you-shoot-back -attitude. “Sergeant, if you confirm that visually, you need to disengage, is that clear?” “Sir... yes sir. Roihenne out.” Connection ended with a click.
Huurika rose up, having crouched in cover behind a ruined roof arch with his voxman. “Leftenant Woikas!” the captain shouted, and Woikas left his command squad, picked carefully his way back to the main bulk of the ruined emporium, keeping low and in cover. “Yes sir?” asked the leftenant when close enough, kneeling down in cover, setting his boltgun’s stock down on ash covered ground.
“Woikas, get the second platoon to move out slowly, in firing line. Try to cover that ruin”, said Huurika indicating a ruined building some three hundered meters away from his ops map, “with the right end of the line, and keep the left end here. Then, assuming first platoon holds up, you will proceed to the target tower and take the measurements.” The captain searched the leftenant’s eyes for... understanding, or doubt? He only found the hard professional edge. Woikas would follow orders as long as they made sense, not lose his focus wondering the purpose of it all. “Yes sir, will do!” said Woikas briskly, saluted, and turned to move back to his squad, bolgun held at ready.
A series of distant explosions made themselves heard over the ding of the battle closer at had. Vox operator Glistensse reported “Mecharats have hit the hostile MRL. Sir, they report it is not a chaos one.” Then he fiddled again with his tuning controls, a brief look of pain on his face. “Lost the rest of the message... wait. Now... “ his face eased up. “They report again, hostile tank is shooting... one of the sentinels is down. Orders, sir?” “Tell him to keep in cover, and to keep that launcher occupied!” snapped Huurika. “Then try to reach those hostiles again on imperial frequencies.” We have to get this stopped.... they are not chaos spawn, and we are not heretics. And damn the colonel for leaving us in this mess.
Leman Russes shot again, one hitting hidden hostiles on the wooded ridge, the other impacts almost on top of the first platoon’s position, the booming reports of large caliber cannons like a manifestation of Captain Huurika’s inner storm.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
Its not down
“Touchdown in fifteen. Move it!”, said the WO, his voice almost a yell in intercom. “Roger, will go!” shouted Sergeant Roihenne back, pushed the headset of Valkyria’s troop compartment back in its locker, slamming the small metal door. Turning to face his platoon, he held himself in place with one large had gripping the overhead rail, shouting “Go go go!”, while the valk under them dropped like a stone. Back ramp was opening, assigned troopers sprang to sliding side doors, pushing them open. Dust and small debris billowed up from the ground as the gunship’s vertical takeoff engines braked its descend.
Veterans jumped off the aircraft, which hung couple of moments suspended a meter above ground, engines screaming. Roihenne was last out, the valk already starting to rise when he jumped, landed on both legs, his “procured” drop troop boots absorbing the impact. “Lads, dreadnoughts, closer one first!” yelled Roihenne and moved to the point, his own plasma pistol activated, specialists following, while rest of the squad spread out under the shadow of the rising valkyrie.
The meltagunners took aim, ready to fire at once, having primed their weapons onboard against the regulations. “Ready!” “Ready!”, sounded the specialists, Hoijonne, the lead one, also shouted “Ready”. Standing right behind Hoijonne, Roihenne gave the order “Fire!”, just when Hoijonne raised his voice to shout “Wait! That is imperial dread!”
Melta’s fired, first two then, after a second’s hesitation, Hoijonne fired also. Roihenne’s plasma pistol also discharged, but his aim was shaken. Turning to the specialist, almost ready to beat the trooper back in line, he shouted angrily “Hoijonne, I gave the target!” “But sarge, that is not a chaos dread! On Vistubalix IV, I cooked one real close up, remember sarge?” “These are hostiles, specialist! You obey me when we are engaged...”
The valkyrie overhead opended fire, its pods sending a volley of white tipped rockets to impact on the dreadnoughts, while its multilaser’s rhytmical dry cracks on full auto sounded like a large beast having a bad case of coughing.
“Sarge, its not down! Its moving to engage...” yelled a veteran. The purple dreadnought was stricken, but not disabled. It loomed through the smoke thrown up by rocket impacts, having lost its assault cannon arm to melta hits, and much of its paintwork to the rockets, but its close combat weapon still had the powered bluish aura, and its legs were pumping hard, bringing it closer and closer... to a charge range.
“Take cover! Meltas ready!” Roihenne shouted, letting go of Hoijonne’s flak vest, the specialist dropping down and regaining his feet. Sergeant’s plasma weapon was still recycling, and he knew the melta would also be still cooling. Ah shit we need to... A crack, then two more, from the left. Lascannons! His eyes had registered the blue flashes, from the left, on top of the wooded plateau. Impacts were almost inaudible, but the valkyerie’s engine sound changed, rising to a high pitched whine, ending in an explosion. Oh by the emperor’s hairy ass, not again... Looking up, Roihenne saw one of the valk’s engines pushing out thick black smoke, the other sounding strained. The tailboom also looked wrong... stabilizers shot to hell. Its coming down, Roihenne realized.
“Run run!” someone shouted, and the victor squad scattered to avoid the falling aircraft.
“Touchdown in fifteen. Move it!”, said the WO, his voice almost a yell in intercom. “Roger, will go!” shouted Sergeant Roihenne back, pushed the headset of Valkyria’s troop compartment back in its locker, slamming the small metal door. Turning to face his platoon, he held himself in place with one large had gripping the overhead rail, shouting “Go go go!”, while the valk under them dropped like a stone. Back ramp was opening, assigned troopers sprang to sliding side doors, pushing them open. Dust and small debris billowed up from the ground as the gunship’s vertical takeoff engines braked its descend.
Veterans jumped off the aircraft, which hung couple of moments suspended a meter above ground, engines screaming. Roihenne was last out, the valk already starting to rise when he jumped, landed on both legs, his “procured” drop troop boots absorbing the impact. “Lads, dreadnoughts, closer one first!” yelled Roihenne and moved to the point, his own plasma pistol activated, specialists following, while rest of the squad spread out under the shadow of the rising valkyrie.
The meltagunners took aim, ready to fire at once, having primed their weapons onboard against the regulations. “Ready!” “Ready!”, sounded the specialists, Hoijonne, the lead one, also shouted “Ready”. Standing right behind Hoijonne, Roihenne gave the order “Fire!”, just when Hoijonne raised his voice to shout “Wait! That is imperial dread!”
Melta’s fired, first two then, after a second’s hesitation, Hoijonne fired also. Roihenne’s plasma pistol also discharged, but his aim was shaken. Turning to the specialist, almost ready to beat the trooper back in line, he shouted angrily “Hoijonne, I gave the target!” “But sarge, that is not a chaos dread! On Vistubalix IV, I cooked one real close up, remember sarge?” “These are hostiles, specialist! You obey me when we are engaged...”
The valkyrie overhead opended fire, its pods sending a volley of white tipped rockets to impact on the dreadnoughts, while its multilaser’s rhytmical dry cracks on full auto sounded like a large beast having a bad case of coughing.
“Sarge, its not down! Its moving to engage...” yelled a veteran. The purple dreadnought was stricken, but not disabled. It loomed through the smoke thrown up by rocket impacts, having lost its assault cannon arm to melta hits, and much of its paintwork to the rockets, but its close combat weapon still had the powered bluish aura, and its legs were pumping hard, bringing it closer and closer... to a charge range.
“Take cover! Meltas ready!” Roihenne shouted, letting go of Hoijonne’s flak vest, the specialist dropping down and regaining his feet. Sergeant’s plasma weapon was still recycling, and he knew the melta would also be still cooling. Ah shit we need to... A crack, then two more, from the left. Lascannons! His eyes had registered the blue flashes, from the left, on top of the wooded plateau. Impacts were almost inaudible, but the valkyerie’s engine sound changed, rising to a high pitched whine, ending in an explosion. Oh by the emperor’s hairy ass, not again... Looking up, Roihenne saw one of the valk’s engines pushing out thick black smoke, the other sounding strained. The tailboom also looked wrong... stabilizers shot to hell. Its coming down, Roihenne realized.
“Run run!” someone shouted, and the victor squad scattered to avoid the falling aircraft.
Re: 40K: Kevät 2012
We fight the heretic
The veterans sprinted left and right, trying to avoid the descending valkyrie and the charging dreadnought both. Imperial Guard tanks fired another volley, trying to hit the walkers. One round impacted on already broken rockcrete in front of the first armored giant, but the other managed to pass by both targets, and exploded right in front of the victor squad. Roihenne, diving behind a broken pillar, saw several of his rednecks flying up among dust and earth and pieces of masonry, and dropping down like wet ragdolls.
The closest dreadnought, its assault cannon still hanging broken from its shoulder joint, loomed through the dust, getting uncomfortably close. Although deafened by the huge boom of the battle cannon hit, Roihenne still heard the remaining motor of the valkyrie screaming like a wounded beast. He glanced upwards. To his amazement, the carrier was not falling, but instead made what must under the circumstances be considered a controlled and almost graceful landing, right between most of the victor squad’s effectives and the charging, damaged dreadnought. The cabin popped open, and both flyboys clambered out, bewildered but apparently unhurt.
The purple dreadnought charged. Roihenne shot his plasma pistol, managing to miss the huge form completely. “Fall back! Regroup!” he urged his men, but most needed no ordering, guardsmen running past him and around the downed valkyrie. Roihenne was about to turn and run too, when he saw that the CAS crew still hunkered down next to their plane. Swearing, he run, grapped the WO’s arm, yelling “Run! Its hitting us”. He pushed WO, slapped the pilot’s back hard, shoved him too to run, turned... Oh Throne! The dreadnought's close combat weapon hit down, Roihenne was sure he would die, but the giant swing turned down, smashing the valkyrie’s nose cone just meters from Roihenne’s legs. Then the purple warmachine suddenly pivoted, and stomped down with its left foot. Roihenne, frozen in place, heard a human scream. That jolted him moving again, running, back under the valk’s surviving tailboom, pushing the aircrew moving again, shouting “Meltas! To me!”.
Roihenne missed the curious sight of a damaged dreadnought twisting its torso, and moving its left foot ever so slightly, not crusing the trooper caught under it. Dull red vision slit of the ancient dreadnought brighteted, its close combat weapon opened and closed in a way a man might snap his fingers, concidering.
Behind the valkyerie’s smashed fuselage, Hoijonne was just lining up a melta shot, and Roihenne was waving his plasma pistol, pushing the squad’s remains in a skirmish line while shepherding the flyboys, when a grating metallic voice boomed from the dreadnought.
“We are Idola Tribus. We fight the heretic. You are not the heretic. Desist and retreat!”
A moment’s silence ensued. Hoijonne straightened, whispering “Sarge... what I said...” “Hush!”, Roihenne said, raising his hand. The dreadnought moved, lifting its left leg slowly. Valkyrie’s remains blocked the vision, but they heard someone moaning softly. “Tikkinne, Chootine, go!”, Roihenne said softly. The troopers moved forward warily, and retured soon, dragging a wounded, passed out guardsman between. The dreadnought had not moved at all, everything was silent around the valkyrie, only electric shortcuts sizzling inside the broken aircraft.
Roihenne gave the order in firm but quiet voice: “Victor squad, retreat”.
---
The veterans sprinted left and right, trying to avoid the descending valkyrie and the charging dreadnought both. Imperial Guard tanks fired another volley, trying to hit the walkers. One round impacted on already broken rockcrete in front of the first armored giant, but the other managed to pass by both targets, and exploded right in front of the victor squad. Roihenne, diving behind a broken pillar, saw several of his rednecks flying up among dust and earth and pieces of masonry, and dropping down like wet ragdolls.
The closest dreadnought, its assault cannon still hanging broken from its shoulder joint, loomed through the dust, getting uncomfortably close. Although deafened by the huge boom of the battle cannon hit, Roihenne still heard the remaining motor of the valkyrie screaming like a wounded beast. He glanced upwards. To his amazement, the carrier was not falling, but instead made what must under the circumstances be considered a controlled and almost graceful landing, right between most of the victor squad’s effectives and the charging, damaged dreadnought. The cabin popped open, and both flyboys clambered out, bewildered but apparently unhurt.
The purple dreadnought charged. Roihenne shot his plasma pistol, managing to miss the huge form completely. “Fall back! Regroup!” he urged his men, but most needed no ordering, guardsmen running past him and around the downed valkyrie. Roihenne was about to turn and run too, when he saw that the CAS crew still hunkered down next to their plane. Swearing, he run, grapped the WO’s arm, yelling “Run! Its hitting us”. He pushed WO, slapped the pilot’s back hard, shoved him too to run, turned... Oh Throne! The dreadnought's close combat weapon hit down, Roihenne was sure he would die, but the giant swing turned down, smashing the valkyrie’s nose cone just meters from Roihenne’s legs. Then the purple warmachine suddenly pivoted, and stomped down with its left foot. Roihenne, frozen in place, heard a human scream. That jolted him moving again, running, back under the valk’s surviving tailboom, pushing the aircrew moving again, shouting “Meltas! To me!”.
Roihenne missed the curious sight of a damaged dreadnought twisting its torso, and moving its left foot ever so slightly, not crusing the trooper caught under it. Dull red vision slit of the ancient dreadnought brighteted, its close combat weapon opened and closed in a way a man might snap his fingers, concidering.
Behind the valkyerie’s smashed fuselage, Hoijonne was just lining up a melta shot, and Roihenne was waving his plasma pistol, pushing the squad’s remains in a skirmish line while shepherding the flyboys, when a grating metallic voice boomed from the dreadnought.
“We are Idola Tribus. We fight the heretic. You are not the heretic. Desist and retreat!”
A moment’s silence ensued. Hoijonne straightened, whispering “Sarge... what I said...” “Hush!”, Roihenne said, raising his hand. The dreadnought moved, lifting its left leg slowly. Valkyrie’s remains blocked the vision, but they heard someone moaning softly. “Tikkinne, Chootine, go!”, Roihenne said softly. The troopers moved forward warily, and retured soon, dragging a wounded, passed out guardsman between. The dreadnought had not moved at all, everything was silent around the valkyrie, only electric shortcuts sizzling inside the broken aircraft.
Roihenne gave the order in firm but quiet voice: “Victor squad, retreat”.
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