NationStates Jolt Archive

The sun rose to the east, the burning eye glaring down at Veric, none escaped it's burning gaze on the surface, the desert choked life with great spite. The winds brought about thier furious sandstorms upon the desert, great sweeping oceans of sand which stormed accross the nation. There was only a brown blur within the sky, none could see through this parched land, only burning sun and flying sand.

But below this endless desert to which some harsh people called home, were numerous interconnected colonys. These hive are like a honeycomb, tight, crampt and full of people where unforgiving, and without luxury. Within them where endless metal corridors and chambers, a labyrinth where few where cheerful or laughing, children rarely chuckled or played. Many had never seen the outside world, the desert people rarely went outside at all. It was not possible.

The quality of life was rather poor, medical care was strictly given out, serious birth control was implimented, and the goverment where stern and pracitcal to the point of being cruel. But, such actions where required with the sort of life where everyday food and water is a struggle to obtain. No-one had the kind of luxury some people have in other nations.

The leader of Veric as a whole was a harsh man, a man who knew the desert's harsh realities and knew that sacrifices must be made at times. He wore his military uniform for what he was about to do, he had desert equipment all around him. He wore desert camo clothes, and underneth that he wore the flak armour which was the standard.

He had brown eyes, which where the common colour, and a aged face. He looked around forty, experianced and gizzled. Walking with a great deal of authority and purpose, he did not smile, rarely was he pleasant, few Vericians smiled or had a sense of humor at all due to the enviorment which they lived in. He was greatly respected for his courage and examples to which they should live by. He had fought alongside them in countless raider attacks.

He walked along the corridors, people everywhere where going about thier usual jobs, repair jobs which blowtorches and the like to the metal work of the underground bunkers, maintaining vital processes like the collection of water from the vapor traps, and keeping guard duty with turrets. This was usual, this sense of action and urgancy, but today was different.

Recently through various methods, they managed to repair a high powered communication device which had been inorperatable until now. The control room where countless mechanical devices blinked and moniters hummed now held a form of communication. Finally, contact with the outside world was possible after what was called, "Sea of Fire" occoured.

Commander D'tok continued his long purposeful pace to the control room, his hard boots beating a tattoo of noise through the narrrow metal passageways, so that everyone knew that he was coming. He gave people he met a cold stare which was met by the same gaze back. Everyone knew thier purpose, Vericians did not have the politeness of other cultures, they where practical and blunt.

Walking through the doorway, he looked at the hard working maintance, checking the signals and making changes. They wore practical clothes which could take a beating from the regular jobs they did, which often where very dirty. They all had experiance, thier training was learning from others as children. Everyone could do the basic tasks, but then they went into the specilised fields according to how they did. There was no choice in it, with choice would come people who would pick easier jobs. That could not happen.

Walking through the room, D'tok looked at the monitor.

"Everything ready?" D'tok asked without looking to the man on his right.

"Aye. We will be connecting shortly" he replied and got back to finishing his duties. D'tok acknowledged it with a deep hum. Finally he thought, we might be able to enter a new age of porsperity where we will finally be able to have what we deserve.

The surface.

"All clear. Commencing in three...." someone said and everyone went silent and looked at the commander who was completely calm and composed as he sat within the chair beside the moniter. The moniter flickered into life to give a black screen with various technical terms on how the connection was doing. It was in essance like a phone, only on a high powered level to anyone who was picking up the signals. A few strange noises where heard, and everyone listened to them, wondering if they where meant to occour. But the words appeared upon the screen which gave everyone a sense of relief that all of thier hard work over the last few weeks had paid off.

Broadcasting...

D'tok began in a sturdy and confidant voice to his message to anyone that was listening, the first words of communication in a hundred years.

"This is the nation of Veric. Is this transimission read?"

Everyone hang silent...waiting for a reply which could mean so many things for Veric....

Mouth of Veric

We hear your broadcast, and we feel for your plight. In this hard world it is important to have allies and to make the right choices. There are many who will lie to and mislead you.

The benevolent rule of the Exalted and Compassionate one is ready to reach out to you, as it is ready to regretfully crush those who would oppose that which is right. Be cheered by our offer of friendship.

M

(OOC Urm, you have just heard a voice, that is all. You know nothing at all from this, where it is yet, or thier situation.)

(OOC ... I know that, it's a standard response regardless! Typical tyrannical types you see pretending more than they know! )

(OOC What kind of voice? Male, female? This is voice communication you know, this is not t-grams.)

A great cheer came from everyone, a rare moment of joy, people hugged others in celebration, even the worst of enemies. Even the Commander smiled a little. But quickly dissipated as everyone got thier composture back, yet this message sparked thier imagination of the possibilities.

The commander flicked a button to send back a message. A number of number script danced accross the screen and then the same message again. Commander D'tok thought about what to ask them, to relearn the history forgotten.

"I am Commander D'tok. I do not accept your offer of freindship yet, one should know the nature of his freinds first. Now...where exactly are you?" He did not need excuses for his distrust, it would seem normal for him to proceed with caution. He reasoned, that he was using thier logic

The voice, possibly distorted by the receiver technology, seemed harsh and grating, a man's voice or a bad machine copy of a man's voice.

"Our location coordinates are being transmitted to you. Our land is a paradise, our exalted and benevolent master provides for all. It is unwise to scorn his friendship, but he is compassionate and willing to extend clemency. He suggests we exchange ambassadors as a gesture of goodwill."

The infomation was sent over to the computers. Numerous people began to type furiously to make the files work with thier technology, most of which was trial and error. It would take a little while to process, the moniter became flooded with numbers, which was then decoded by the technitions into infomation of the right type.

"Aye. We shall begin to process the infomation. Here is the infomation upon Veric, from what we have gathered." The Commander made a gesture as if to say "send it over", and numerous mechanics set about sending the infomation. Numerous seconds passes of typing and computer humming and whirings, and then a few beeps. The moniter came up with the same green writing against black screen, of numer jargon. Only this time there was a dissappointing message.

File transfer failure.

The people became more energetic, trying to find the source of the problem.

"We have a problem transfering the data. We shall attempt it again in the future. I believe that we should talk in person. Transportation is nearly impossible. I believe you will need to come here, we lack the methods of getting to neutral or your territory. Here are co-ordinates you should go to. I suggest flight, but I warn you, the weather is hazardous, and raiders live within the desert. Caution is advised. Is this acceptable? When would you be able to attend?"

The other file which was a single co-ordinate which was a symbol GPS reading. It could be used by most navigation systems to lock into where the position was. The position seemed from above to be just another featureless sand dune, but it actually held the enterance to the main vault. Various smaller vaults existed, which where connected by long passgeways which had originally had trams which allowed people to travel within hours to the other. But they had broken, and traveling was rare. It would take says to travel between vaults and it was not widely done.

“Commander of Veric, your suggestion is being considered. We will give you our response presently.”

The officer drew his fingers across his pale throat, indicating that the communication line should be severed immediately. He sat back in his high backed chair and drummed his fingernails on the wooden arms, the styling of the chair strangely archaic and out of place among the technology of the communications room.

”Orders?” snarled the armoured figure standing beside the officer. Kevlar shielding and a fully enclosing helmet concealed any emotion from being displayed but something in the soldier’s tone displeased his superior.

“You will address me as My Lord.” Snapped the officer. “Show such insubordination again and you will learn many new things you will regret. This transmission could be a deception of some kind, our enemies are everywhere. We must proceed with caution.”

”Caution…. My Lord?” the sneer in the soldier’s voice was unmistakeable. “Caution is not what is demanded. His orders are clear… do you wish me to check with Him?”

Silence. There were a dozen or so low ranking operatives in the room, none of them dared to breathe as the officer considered his response.

“The transmission warns of raiders in the vicinity. This is almost certain to mean their own troops will attack ours to test our strength,” the armoured figure went on. “I suggest we send an armed party, engage these ‘raiders’ and make contact when we have proven our power.”

The officer rose from his chair.

”Your suggestion has merit. Lead the expedition yourself, send a dozen of our troopers and ensure you destroy some of these raiders before you rendezvous with this D’Tok. Do not fail.”

“At your command…My Lord.”

“Oh and Captain Skurash?”

The armoured warrior stopped at the door and turned to await his final instruction.

”Be diplomatic.”

(OOC Very good! I am pleased that I can rp with you, this should prove extremely interesting. I will provide a brief description of the area which you are given.)

The Inner Vault city is one which is the headquarters to Veric, it's defences are the highest and it has the most people within it. The most brilliant minds are within the First Vault, as the city was called.

With the outer enterance being the only proper enterance, it was extremely guarded. It was massive metal door which opened slowly and could withstand airstrikes, tanks rounds and virtually every attack, including biological attacks to which it was used. All that could be seen from the air was a large normal looking sandune. However from the side, there was a large metal door. It had a intellegent design so that sand could not be gathered due to various pieces of ancient technology which created force fields which wher harmless but did nto allow sand to settle around it. It created artifical winds to remove sand from building up around it, and it was designed brillaintly to do so. Unfortunatly, such devices drained a great deal of power, and power was an ever present problem.

It was impenetrable vault, yet this could not be defended easily without going outside. To look at the enterance, there was the laser heavy machine guns which where highly effective in mowing down any infantry and light veicles should it be required. These where used frequenctly and power packs for these where rarely replaced, they obtained thier energy from solar energy when it needed to recharge, and the sun was in no shortage.

They where manually operated, and there where three large and noticeable guns which could be manned. Each one could be used without being exposed by seeing with sensors, but these had fallen to disrepair and damage, due to a power surge and raiders attacking. Now the gunners had to use a pillbox kind of firing. The guns where above the door, and they always held people who kept an eye out for raiders who might attack.

The doors had never opened before, raiders had never gotten in, the Veric people never got out. An eternal seige for food and water.

There where various smaller sentries near the enterance to provide additional defence, which people could fire out with normal weapons, laser or ballistic. Laser weapons where more common, they worked highly well in desert scenerios, and they could recharge. But there was a price, they where rather inaccurate and they had slow firing times due to overheating in the desert. Ballistic weapons where fearsome, yet they where few and far between. Only the elite had them, machine guns being the best arnament someone could get. There where a few rocket launchers around, but again, they where rare and reserved for only the most desperate of situations.

The weather was relatively calm, the winds where still strong yet it did not bring a harsh blow of sand. It was annoying and could still damage veichles and weapons by the sand getting into the machinary, yet the visibiltiy was rather good.

Around the enterance, there was the endless sea of sand and thier dunes.

D'tok recieved thier acknowlegment and closed the transmission. He got up and breathed out. Everyone paused and looked at him from behind of this great man.

He waited a few moments before turning on the spot quickly. He looked at everyone and gave a very slight smile which dissolved swiftly. D'tok gave out his orders.

"Get two platoons ready at the Gate, increase security. Prepare to open the Gate." He said and began to walk out with purpose to prepare himself. Everyone looked at each other for a few moments in some what recoginsion of what this meant. No one had actually opened the Gate since it was closed! This would be a great day indeed.

Before D'tok left, he barked, "Get to it!" which jump started them all and sent them to thier duties with eagerness.

The hangar was dark and stank of engine oil and sweat as the warriors stamped in, forming themselves into two ranks in front of the snarling captain.

“No talking, damn you,” snapped the captain. “Straighten up you maggots, you’re soldiers now, not damned brigands. The scum in Intelligence are sending us on a raid. Uncharted territory, just a dozen of us…heh…how do you like that? See some action eh?” He stepped forward and seized one of the troopers roughly by the chin, mocking him. “Get yourself blooded at last, eh?”

The troopers shifted uneasily, none wishing to get singled out for attention.

“We’re going in, take out some raiders and make our mark on the locals. No plundering this time, no playing. You understand? I’ll flay anyone who steps out of line. Time enough for fun later. Load up with hollow points, then get your carcasses into the assault copter. Move, you worthless dogs.”

--

Within a bare few minutes the armoured copter dusted off from the concrete airfield. The air crew, low ranking minions, cowered with lowered eyes as another team of soldiers double-timed past them. All but one. A brown uniformed mechanic scuttled behind the cover of a packing crate and produced a tiny radio transceiver from inside his the cuff of his overalls.

”They’re away, My Lord”

The voice that replied was cold and emotionless. “Is the package aboard?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“And our man?”

”Yes, My Lord. He’s replaced Trooper Skurz”

“Good. Do not contact me again.”

The mechanic cut the contact, looking furtively around. Now he had to get the shapeless carcass that had once been Skurz to the incinerator without being seen.

Above them, the copter circled twice before heading southward.

(OOC This is great!)

The Vault soon became more active than usual, an alarm going through the place to signify to be on caution and to get everything ready for an attack. D'tok wanted the Vault to look it's best, and be ready for a betrayal. Either way, they would be prepared for them.

The two platoons where summoned and they where already prepared. The drill was regular, but the reasons where different. They all gripped their Kanrael lasrifles and sprinted to their posts by entrance ready to go outside. The machine gunners where ready, they where within their sentries looking out to the desert, while their loader looked out with sniper rifles. The sniper rifles where ballistic in this case, so that they did more damage and that they could not see where it had come from.

A platoon consists of sixteen men, with Sergeant in charge of it. They had typical gear, flak armour which provided relatively good armour against both laser and ballistic attacks. They where light, yet did not cover the entire body, just the chest and some leg parts. Large and bulky armour was not suitable for the terrain they might be fighting in.

D'tok had his own unique weapon, high powered and extremely accurate machine gun, which had a secondary fire of a grenade. It was his weapon of choice which he held onto tightly. He wore better armour than the others, carapace. It had higher defensive capabilities and was more spread over the body. Of course, this was all hidden under desert camouflage of great Arabic like clothes. Every soldier wore goggles to protect themselves from the sun's glare, it would be impossible to fight else.

The two platoons readied themselves inside the inner entrance, ready to come out and make sure that they would be protect the ambassadors...or themselves.

Another three platoons where on standby nearby, just in case. Just in case....

Walking to the center of the men who looked up with admiration and unimaginable respect, D’tok looked and inspected each one with that battle hardened stare which boosted their confidance. He went over each one and found no flaw in their dress or equipment. He finally stood at the front and looked at them all in their own lines.

“Listen up!” D’tok began his speech, and everyone listened with their full attention at this great figure as he gave out his orders.

“This day everyone will remember. Our children will remember it because we shall tell it to them of this great day. So therefore, if this day is to be remembered, let us be remembered for the best of what we are. I want perfection. If they get attacked, we treat them as brothers and if we die protecting them, so be it. If they turn traitor, then they shall feel what the deadly lessons this deadly desert has taught us! Get yourselves ready for the making of history!” D’tok cried to them, the zeal within his speech filling his soldiers with absolute hope and bravery, they cheered in bravado of their leader.

D’tok smiled at his troops for a few moments in pride and then reached for the machinery which would open the Gate. He did not know if it would work or not….he pressed the button.

First nothing happened. Everyone looked to the giant door which looked like a airfield door of some sort failed to do anything. And then….it began to stir with a tremendous chugging sound. The sound of years of inactive service as it began to shake the sleep away and rise. Slowly it did….and the sunlight rushed forward and would have blinded them had it not been for the goggles. The door was half-way up when D’tok roared, “Move out men! Do me proud!”

D’tok charged forward to get into his position outside, as did everyone else. They set up in a V formation, so that the drop ship could land in the centre. The gunners looked for any sign of aircraft….as did the Raiders…

(OOC Later on, could I have a description of the soldier gear etc so my characters can size them up and react accordingly. Thanks :) )

Captain Skurash shouted above the noise of the assault copter's engines. "Get us lower you filth! We need to be able to see our targets."

"The sandstorm sir, it is dangerous to-"

Skurash cuffed the pilot brutally, the copter lurching before the man managed to stabilise the controls.

"NO EXCUSES DAMN YOU!" the captain snarled, his lips curled back from jagged uneven teeth. Without his armoured helmet, Skurash was a notably ugly individual, but in his chosen line of work that was not a drawback.

Muttering under his breath the pilot gunned the copter lower, the rattling of the sandstorm incessant against the plated exterior of the vessel.

"There!" called one of the warriors, "A settlement!"

"Must be those raiders we were told about, we're still a way from the rendezvous point. Circle at low altitude. Tear the place apart with the vulcan cannons. Then we move in."

--

The engagement was brief, brutal and one sided. The raider camp was shielded from the elements, but not from high caliber munitions. Although outnumbered the warriors of the Protectorate were instinctual killers, violent and fearless, and equipped for their task. Their casualties were limited to light burns from the low powered energy weapons that the raider guards carried.

The camp was devastated. A handful of raider warriors were taken captive, the rest of the inhabitants - including the non combatants - were killed. The lucky ones died in the heat of battle.

"Back aboard you scum," roared the Captain when the gory work was done. "We have a rendezvous to make."

---

A half hour later, the sandstorm abating somewhat, the assault craft approached the rendezvous point.

"You've got keen eyes, Skurz," snarled the Captain to a nearby trooper. "What can you see down there?"

The helmeted trooper hunched down to look through a view port.

"A welcoming party - armed men. If it's an ambush it's a bad one."

"Take us down Pilot! Skurz... We'll hand these prisoners over to our new... friends to show them we mean business."

---

(OOC: These warriors really are thugs. They wear mismatched pieces of bulky kevlar and chain armour which mainly looks home made or scavenged - but very effective. Their helmets give a fierce aspect and conceal most of the face. They are all big, dangerous looking men, with viciously effective assault rifles with hollow tipped bullets. Any decent leader meeting them will realise that the Captain rules them by fear rather than loyalty. He is likely to be aggressive and brutal, but his main brief is to make contact and assess these new contacts... feel free to write up the initial encounter! For what it's worth the raider prisoners will probably be horribly traumatised by the atrocities they saw these monsters commit at their settlement... they may see their traditional enemies in the bunker as less of a threat than these killers)

(OOC Thanks for writing for the raiders. Now, let us get to the interesting part....)

The assualt helicopter created a small sandstorm of it's own, pushing all of the sand away from it. It went flying in all directions, but the soldiers under D'tok's command did not even move. They where all crouched with thier weapons readied and aimed. D'tok was the only one standing with his weapon ready but not aiming. He saw the chopper reasonably well with the sand....they where easily within range of the gattling lasers inside the Gate.

As the Helicopter came down, and steadily the blades halted, D'tok readied himself for the first encounter of the two nations. He did not even need to tell his troops to remain calm and steady, they knew it alright. One failure meant death, not from your own side, but from the enemy. Wheter that be from the desert or the raiders, it mattered not. If someone failed and people where harmed or killed, they had thier own punishment to live with. Everyone knew everyone, everyone had saved the others life in some shape or form. To fail your family was shameful. This community was utterly loyal, brave and disciplined. The Commander and Leader was like a father to them all, a stern one, but this stern teaching kept them all alive.

The helicopter set down, and they all awaited for them to come out....

In the Ash wastes of the Elvarin Empire, a company was currently put through its paces as squads fired upon one another with their pulse rifles, the real ammo replaced with laser tagging instead and with their 'foes' shifting and continuosly moving, blending seamlessly into their surroundings.

But to an Elf's eyes, this mock battle was seen very clearly, as Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing smiled as a squad was pounced by another and a flurry of hand to hand combat erupted. A disturbance from his comms tent made him turned to see his comms officer opening the flap to poke his head out of it to yell, "Sire! I think you might want to hear this!"

With a sigh of exasperation, Lionel strode to his comms tent and muttered bout the world not letting him train his men properly, "First a wedding, then a hang over and now this!", he muttered quietly to himself.

"Well, get on with it"

"Yes sire", and the officer turned to a radio and hit the play back button.


"This is the nation of Veric. Is this transimission read?"


Lionel stood there stunned and asked, "Where is that signal coming from?"

"Its deep into the ash wastes sire but the region where it is coming from is a pirate stronghold, and those that we capture never said anything about a nation in the desert!", the officer replied.

Becoming even more confused, Lionel became alarmed when he heard who broadcasted a reply.

Turning to his lieutenant, he ordered, "I am taking a squad in, live rounds, and moving on foot! Send that broadcast to the council with the actions that i have taken in responce. This may be a pirate trap still so we are going in quietly and observing what may be happening there"

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

(OOC I can work with that. Just no one else get involved, otherwise it will get too complex. What tech are you doing Elvarin and what can I expect from your people? If you are too tightly with fantasy, then please do nto get involved, I mean completely Tolkien or whatever. You know what I mean, and I do not think you are. Thanks for your co-operation, this thread is going brillaintly! :D )

ooc: Modern/space tech with some runes here and there but not over the top, I just like elves thats all. My ppl will be fast and agile (....like an elf)but wont be fast enough if you spray them full of bullets :wink: . The space tech is my small fleet of corvettes but they are in the outer reaches and most are on patrols or expeditions.

(OOC Absolutely no problem then, just try and make it "realistic" what your characters would do in the military etc, I try to do so myself. In case you where wondering, I have other profiles on Nationstates... :) )

Meanwhile... back at the landing field:

The first to emerge from the copter were the captive raiders, hands cruelly bound with wire behind their backs, their faces bruised and swollen from the beatings received during the journey from their camp. The expression on their faces, not so much fear as horror, a realisation that their world was far more terrible than they had imagined. Each of these desert raiders was used to violence, to combat and stark survival in a hostile environment, but what they had witnessed at their (now destroyed) settlement was the unleashing of sheer joy in bloodletting.

“KNEES!” snarled the guttural voice of Skurash as he emerged, fully armoured from the copter, “ON YOUR KNEES!”

The raiders obeyed instantly, instinctively, falling sharply to their knees, one of their number crying out in pain. Skurash swaggered down the ramp, past the line of prisoners. Behind him, a half dozen of his unit disembarked too. Their weapons were held warily as the warriors surveyed the efficient looking armed soldiers of the welcoming committee.

Skurash removed his helmet, slowly and deliberately, cradling it in the crook of his arm. He smiled, showing his teeth.

Among the soldiers watching them, despite their discipline, Skurash was pleased to see at least one or two expressions of recoil and horror. He gloried in his ugliness and violent aspect. If a man is scared of you, he had learned, he can be controlled. One or two of the inhabitants of this desolate land had even twitched their rifles as he unveiled himself. Their leader, however, seemed to be made of sterner stuff. Skurash addressed him directly.

“I am Skurash, war captain of the Protectorates of Former Mordorians. I bring you these enemies as token of my master’s good wishes and friendship toward your people. Their comrades’ blood stains the sand nearby as a symbol of this pledge. Declare yourself, that we may talk,” (his smile broadened revealing jagged teeth) “as friends.”

The soldiers did not even react. They remained locked onto them all, thier weapons poised. Those aiming at the commander found a contrast between the two leaders. Both hardened by war, yet thier methods where different obviously. There was only the sound of the wind howling accorss the desert for long tense seconds.

D'tok remained completely in control. He did not flinch, he did not blink behind those shaded goggles, his face covered with the swathing cloths which was uniform for the people. He simply gave his cold stare straight through Skurash for long seconds. The two did not falter.

"I am D'tok Vernin, Commander and Leader of Veric. I was not expecting this. But it is welcomed." D'tok said refering to the prisoners. HE brought out his left hand, his rifle cradled within his right hand, which could still fire accurately, and gave a gesture with a unique sign language. Three soldiers without hesitation and without moving thier guns moved up to the prisoners and took them from their prevous captors.

"Why do I speak to you? Why am I not talking to you master?" D'tok asked, his goggled eyes never during this encounter remove thier locked on stare to Skurash's.

Throughout the day, Lionel and his warriors ran in complete silence, avoiding encampments and dwellings where possible. Their pulse rifles always at the ready, and Elfin eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of enemy, they were totally suprised to see black smoke thickening in the air before them.

Like the well trained warriors they are, lionel and a elf broke from the group and moved forward while the others spread out to surround the shattered remains of a settlement. Crouching low and with their camo cloaks about them, they became a flicker of a shadow, creeping slowly and quietly towards the ruins of the camp.

There was blood and bodies everywhere and Lionel knew that it wasnt caused by any of his own, for such horrors would never have been willingly commited by an elf. Even children and women werent spared and Lionel vowed to have a very serious word with the pepertrator.

His partner pointed to a patch of ground and pointed up in the air to signify that an aircraft brought a group of people to this ground. Now that definitely ruled out internal fighting among pirates. The elves regrouped and with urgent haste, set off for some unseen goal.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Skurash grunted in response to D'Tok's question, pausing for only a few seconds as he formulated a diplomatic response. The observers could see that he was struggling with the need to be tactful.

"My master, the exalted and compassionate one, attends to the dominion of his realm. I speak for him here. These lands are hard and wild, full of danger and threat. While he scorns fear he would be foolish to come here unknowing what awaits." He banged his hand against his chestplate and repeated. "I speak for him here. These prisoners stand token of his good will toward you, see how easily they were defeated. Remember his benevolence."

Another moment of silence as Skurash's words ended (on a note of menace?)

"Speak of your people. Where are your settlements, your towns? Who leads you? How can the mighty and glorious ruler of our people assist you and in what way can he expect to receive your gratitude? These things we must discuss."

--

Behind Skurash, the man wearing the armour of Trooper Skurz scanned the faces of the armed soldiers who had come out to meet the helicopter. His sly eyes were adept at reading the emotions of men. Some fear (yes, but not so much as may have been expected), distaste, even revulsion at Skurash. Good.

Very good.

Somewhere in this strange place he would find someone willing to act on that revulsion. Somewhere he would find someone who would do his job for him and put Skurash down like the rabid dog he was. And then... promotion for 'Skurz' and a scapegoat to bear the wrath of the Master.

Very Good indeed.

D'tok was rather unimpressed. For all his words, thier leader did not come in person. Perhaps not fear, but caution. But a leader should lead from the front and not from behind a wall of steel and allow others to make history and effect it.

D'tok knew that they where trying to make owe him something, as though they where so powerful for dispatching a small camp of the hundreds of raider camps throughout the desert. The sand ruins equipment, and prolonged exposure to ii destroys any vehicle not suited to desert life. This desert was not always desert.....

"These raiders, we are grateful for their execution." D'tok said and listened to his question. D'tok began to walk towards the gaping mouth of the entrance to show him the Inner Vault, as it was known. It's correct name was Vault 1, but seeing as it was the greatest and most powerful Vault, the centre of all operations, it was called the Inner Vault.

"Our people. Judge for yourself within. We are now desert people, trying to survive in this death land for over a hundred years since the Time of Cleansing occurred. We live within these Vault Cities." D'tok said as they walked slowly towards the entrance. The "Time of Cleansing had many names, "The Scourging" "The Sea of Fire" many names which meant the same event. Every man woman child knew of it, it was impossible not to. As they walked, the soldiers became slightly less offensive.

The guardsmen knew what to do. Half of the number took the guards away to the left where they where still in view of the others, and placed them on their knees. It was a practiced proceeded, everyone knew what to do, and did it without hesitation or thought. They knew why it was like this. They all readied their weapons in sequence which was frighten to see. There was no communication in it, every one knew what to do. Their weapons where aimed calmly at the prisoners head in executioner style. One of the Sergeant’s voices was heard, it's grating voice pronouncing their death sentence.

"For your crimes, you are punished! May you find mercy in the Lord's eye, for you will find none here!" The Sear gent said, and at the exact point dramatically every solider fired a bolt of energy into the back of the prisoner's skull. They all slumped over in death. The other half of the platoon did not even look at the prisoners, they still had their weapons readied. They seemed completely unaffected by the prisoner execution, it always happened to prisoners.

The executioners paused for the regular three seconds looking at the person they had just killed without remorse their eyes which where hidden behind their sand goggles which allowed them to see almost perfectly within the desert stared in contemplation. It was the way it was done.

After those three seconds, they all placed their guns in a normal cradle stance and looked upwards and said in unison

"The desert teaches harsh lessons, learn them well."

A team of other guards came out, around 16 in all which again, disciplined and orderly took the bodies from the guard and began to search them of anything of use. And that was everything. They stripped them down completely, for resources in the desert where hard to come by.

The guard which had executed them went back into the Vault behind D'tok, and the other half went out to protect the Dropship, and not a word was spoken. They all went about their duty perfectly.

D'tok walked into the entrance considering the next question, after hearing the shooting of the raiders.

"I lead them. There are many that are equally skilled in leadership, yet I was chosen by the council for various reasons. There can be many ways you can assist. But we shall speak of this later, when we are within."

D'tok entered the Vault followed by the orderly walk of the guardsmen behind him, who took up position by the entrance, their weapons ready for combat within a second. The gunner was stil at his post aiming the gatling laser's at their new found "freinds".

The first part they walked through was rather wide and spacious corridors which had numerous passeways running off to barracks, medical facilties and the like. It was all in a bluish metal which was kept almost perfectly clean. The numerous cables running at the top where rather thick and anyone experianced in the field could see that they held water, electricity yet the third one was a mystery. Possibly communication?

Each footstep gave a ringing of D'toks desert boots, his own distinct clanging also served everyone a purpose of knowing where he was, and where Skurash was. There where numerous platoons of guards on standby all over the Vault...just in case. Not many people where seen here, but the odd technition was seen.

Outside, a few more men came out with stakes of metal, which obviously had been used time and again for whatever purpose they wher going to use it for.

Tirelessly they continued on cautiously running, with hours that had passed since they left the devastated settlement. Each elf was lost in the motion of running, though their other senses seek for signs of danger. Lionel knew that he was almost 3 kilometers from the signal and silently waved at his men to prepare weapons and spread out. They slowed to a walk and soon hunched over, moving amongst the dunes in creeping silence. They were fast approaching their target, but Lionel wished he knew what was awaiting them when they arrived.

Skurz, slouching by the ramp of the assault craft, observed the activity of the soldiers with the metal stakes. They didn't seem to be wasting much time in idle chatter, hard to make an approach to people like that.

He turned to one of the other warriors from the Protectorate.

"I saw you at the raider camp," Skurz muttered, "you were just doing your job, but the captain damn near smashed your jaw."

"Hnh" agreed the warrior non commitally, nervous about criticising his superior.

"He's just scared because his clan is under threat back home" Skurz lied glibly. Skurash's clan was one of the more powerful warrior families. The lie had the desired effect and the listener, Magglurz, perked up.

"Under threat?"

"Oh yes," Skurz looked slyly around to make sure they were not being overheard. "wouldn't be surprised if they're dragged off to the hives."

"That'd teach him." Magglurz ventured.

Skurz nodded, smiling.

"Best keep our noses clean for the moment," Skurz assured him, "wait for the right moment."

He sat back on the ramp and waited, sheltering from the harsh wind. As he'd expected, the rumour he'd invented began to spread from warrior to warrior as Magglurz began to shamble between them.

None of them were paying attention to the skyline...

Inside the vault, Skurash took in all that he could about these people. Hard life, hard people. He understood that, but the loyalty that was an obvious bond between them was alien to him.

D'Tok seemed to command their respect, yet he carried himself calmly, never raising his voice. The people must have had their spirits broken long ago... Skurash was blind to the possibility of any other way of ruling.

"Your fortress is well kept, D'Tok," Skurash growled, "but your people live hidden beneath the surface. With the right allies you could take back the land above, wipe those pirate filth from the land and claim back territory. The land is desolate, but it can be tamed. With the aid of the Supreme and Mighty One you could rule this whole land. Does that not stir your blood? Huh? Forever you would be worshipped as the man who led his people into the light."

He paused in his rhetoric, aware that the man before him did not seem to share in the lust for power he tried to engender. Perhaps another approach would be needed.

"Are you scared to make the attempt? Perhaps your people are content to grub in the dirt."

Skurash deliberately fell silent to gauge D'Tok's reaction.

Outside, oblivious to the oncoming patrol, Skurz skulked back into the assault copter to send a brief coded transmission to his superiors confirming his arrival.

Confident that he was not observed, he knelt to examine the concealed package hidden beneath the armoured superstructure of the copter. Ready, but not armed.

There was time enough for a dramatic gesture later. Preferably when Skurash was aboard.

"Thank you. We have already tried but simply put, the raider numbers and our lack of veicles has impared our assualts. That and the desert weather which is constantly batters us. It is not because we are afraid, we see the sense in not attempting such an action when we are having trouble defending our borders. It would be suicide. I do not wish to be worshiped, I would do this for one reason, and one reason only. For the people. We deserve that land so that we can become prosperous again."

D'tok continued onwards, still with his googles on so that he seemed a passive alien. They continued through the passageways to arrive at a new section. This new section seemed more advanced, less civilian looking people where here and more guards where placed here, armed and to the more trained eye they seemed more elite. They simply looked behind thier goggles, they seemed totally emotionless.

They reached thier destination. There was a narrow corridor with no other passageways leading from it and it seemed slightly cooler than the other rooms.

Entering the study door he went into the chamber which held what seemed to be a place for military meetings. There was a long metal table, which held three other people. It was well lit and had a rather high quality furnitiure. Nothing fancy like wood or the like, most of it was metal. It had strange plae white sheets of plastic put upon the wall for some reason. A hum of a small generator was heard in the corner.

D'tok sat himself down and did not gesture for Skurash sit down. He assumed he would. D'tok began.

"This is Skurash, a [i]servant[i] of his master." D'tok began, as if to say thier leader was not here. Everyone was expecting thier commander to attend, but this was rather strange.

"These are the commanders from the other Vaults which we have communication and transport with. We managed to get the trams working for a brief time between the other Vaults." D'tok said and gestured to the man on his right.

The man was rather young but as all of the Veric people was hardened and seemed completely hunmorless. He had black hair and had oddly blue eyes, a strange trait for the desert people. He worethe typical gear, but had his goggles off, as D'tok took his off. He nodded his head in a greeting. "This is Commander Ka Dareim."

D'tok gesutred to the man on his left, who seemed to wear the most ornate clothes. He seemed different from the others, very tidy and regimental yet he still had the desert clothing. He wore the typical carpace underneth, but he had the air of authority around him. He was missing an eye, his gnarled face bearing many scars of combat. He had short cropped white hair, as compared to D'tok's grreying black hair. Aged yet totally respected and awed for his competance upon the field. "This is Commander Holst."

Lastly, he continued to gesture towards the final commander, a female who held the same air of experiance and competance. She wore the same equipment, but held a strange device as a weapon, and had a device over her eye which seemed like a sunglasses from the outside. IN reality it was a scanner, it was a highly sophisticated and a rare and highly prized peice of equipment, one which she only had access to. Her vault held a great number of advanced techology. "This is Commander Jasmina" She had brunette hair, yet it was shaven. She appeared just as hardened as the others.

"Now...onto buisness. Before I tell you of our situation, can you speak of your military power so that we know of the strength of our allies?" D'tok began, looking at Skurash with his now unrevealed cold brown eyes. The others loked at him just as intently. It was obvious that all of these knew the harshness of the desert and all where experianced.

Skurash rejoiced inwardly. Women. The elderly. What would these people not give for a true warrior to command them.

When he spoke he addressed D'Tok only.

"You talk of military power, yet what can you know of that? The armies of our people are without number, their engines of war terrible beyond reckoning. Our master has-- could lay waste to kingdoms, bringing all enemies beneath his will. But he is compassionate, seeking only to share his rule with those who are in accord with him."

Skurash glanced at Jasmina, who seemed to be regarding him with intensity. Mistaking her attention for admiration his rhetoric continued.

"We live for war, our people bred from the finest warrior stock. My clan is the foremost of all the bloodletters of our race. The spirits of my fallen enemies wail in the night, their cries an eternal warning to my living foes. Join with the Master, serve him with loyalty and he will renew this land, give you strength to take a new land!" (another glance at Jasmina) "Re-people your race with strong new blood."

Skurash paused, waiting for D'Tok's response.

The group which held the metal stakes began to set them up into the sand, making sure they wher neatly in a line and on display. Then, they began to take each body, then put them into a crucifix display, a warning to all those who would attack them. They nailed them into the metal stakes and then went inside again, seemly not effected in anyway, as though it was completely normal.

Magglurz chortled with delight as he witnessed the display of the bodies.

"Har," he laughed to the nearest of the soldiers, "You're supposed to nail them up alive you know!"

He shambled inside the copter to share the joke with Skurz, and found his comrade huddling over a bulky black device fastened to the superstructure.

"Skurz, whassat?"

The smaller trooper whirled without hesitation, plunging a knife into Magglurz' unarmoured armpit, wrenching the blade around in the wound.

The larger warrior fell gurgling, dying to the ground.

"Festering wormpits," Skurz cursed under his breath.

(OOC can you just update me, so that I am getting the right idea here. Where is Skurz and he just part of the other squadron? Explain again where veryone is etc. Thanks, I do get confused sometimes.)

(OOC Apologies for being vague. I believed Skurz, the trooper, was outside with the rest of Captain Skurash's unit by the helicopter. Skurash was inside at the 'council meeting'. Skurz has just killed one of his comrades after being spotted with a suspicious package inside the copter. If I've misread things I apologise! By the way... enjoying things immensely. Thanks for the effort you're putting in).

(OOC I thought it was that. I just wanted to clarify. Thanks for the compliment, you are doing great yourself! Take your time over your posts, so that we can get this to a really high quality.)

"You obviously do not understand why this land is a complete desert. Are you familier with the Vapi Bombardment? It is a special type of bomb which destroys the atmosphere utterly, making a scorched earth for hundreds of years. We used it against our attackers in a last attempt to save our people and other from the scourge of those bastard aliens which came to our people. Thankfully, they all could not survive within a land without an atmosphere as was the plan. We build these bunkers to protect oursleves until there was little atmosphere left. What we came up to was a desert, as we expected. With extremely thin atmosphere, clouds where never there and radiation was extremely high and still is. Believe me, if you think you are going to teach us of war, then you are highly mistaken. You have only seen one bunker and only a fraction of it. Once we achieve what we are aiming for, we shall become far more able to reclaim what is ours from the raiders." D'tok said sternly, and the other shared his sentements. They had endured constant combat against raiders and the desert. How dare this person insult them!

"You live for war? Well we live for our people's wellfare. We enact swift justice against those who act against the people, yet we believe we are fair. We are quite capable of breathing life into this land we feel, once we get Vault 5 opened. You see...we currently have communication and contact with four vaults. Vault 1 to 4. Each Vault held the usual capabilities, but each Vault served a purpose. I will not go into detail, but once we get Vault 5 up and running again, we will far more able to defend ourselves and get this desert back to it's orginal beauty. We are currently running machines which are bringing the atmosphere back, but with Vault 5 back online we could increase the productivity of these ten fold." Jasmina said confidantly, giving a harsh view point, letting herself appear no weaker than a man. She was stronger in will and body than many other men, her valor and intelegence had saved many lives.

(OOC Leading this conversation on, "how can we assist in recapturing Vault 5?" Would be the kind of area you want to enter.

Skurash could barely suppress a snarl at the sudden confrontational outburst of the female. Presumably she was the favourite of this D'Tok.

"If this fifth vault is so important then why have you not striven for it?" He paused for a split second in thought. "Is there a powerful enemy guarding it? We can slay them. Our Master the All Knowing and All Compassionate will grant us victory in this."

Inwardly he was calculating. The mention of the Vapi Bombardment had caught his imagination. With a weapon like that his clan could rise to dominance within the Protectorate of the Former Mordorians. The trust of these subterranean refugees may be worth cultivating.

Forcing a smile (that seemed more like a sneer to the onlookers) Skurash added with seeming sincerity: "I want to help your people in this. How can we do that?"

"The reason for this delay has been namely power, resources and transportation." D'tok began and was carryed on by the older man Holst who got up and pressed a button on one of the sheets. It flickered into life and brought a map onto the screen. Not one of the upper land, but of the tunnels of the Vaults. Skurash could see that the infrasstructure of each Vault was highly compact and efficant. Skilled minds had gone into building these Vaults, and it was amasing to see. There where tunnels linking each vault underground. It could be seen that Vault 3 was supposed to be connected to Vault 5, yet it was half finished the tunnel it seemed.

"During the Vault's construction, the tunnels where built. You have to understand while these Vaults where being build a war was occouring between our people and this alien race which assalted us. Each Vault was made seperately and hurridly, one of the reasons why some Vaults do not have some resources. Namely why most of the more advanced technology is within Vault 4, which Jasmina currenly goverens. The tunnels where never completed, we where forced to trigget the Vapi Bombardment early in order to prevent complete destruction. As a result one of the tunnels was never completed and communication was lost with Vault 5, and now we lack the equipment to finish it or tunnel through."

"What we have considered is our only option. We require drilling equipment in order to force a new tunnel from the half complete one from old. That way, we can drill our way to Vault 5 and hopefully obtain survivors, food, equipment and some of the most important machines that we need. Re-population of the surface. But of course, we lost communication with Vault 5 a great deal of time ago. Any number of filth could be inhabiting it, from any surviving aliens which might have been able to get in to the recent raiders who discovered Vault and possibly overpowered it due to the lack of communication and resources from other Vaults. So this is where you come in. We require from you drilling teams and numerous assualt teams to accompany our own. We can survive rather well for the moment while this would be occouring, once we obtain Vault 5, if it is in a decent condition, than we can reclaim the surface quickly and the majority of our old power." Holst said soberly while pointing where Vault 5 was. It seemed slightly different in design, more advanced and complex. It held powerplants and some devices which Skurash did not know about.

ooc: sorry for the short post before but i had to sleep last night. (different time zones)This is very interesting and different. Keep up the good work fellas

IC: Lionel and the elves watched with horror as the metal stakes were being erected but soon realized that the bodies werent moving.

"At least they had the decency to kill them", Lionel thought disgustedly to himself. With a small vague wave of his hand, they moved carefully, their camo cloak blurring them into the sand as they move and investigate the structure that rosed from the ground.

But what caught their eyes even more was the copter, and soon every elf made the same assumption as their leader, they have found the culprit for the massacre.

But what was peculiar was that they saw a distant figure stabbed into his partner. Before Lionel knew it, the elf that was carrying the rail gun lifted it to his eye and prepared to fire.

With angry waves of his hand, the sniper reluctantly lowered it, and received an angry glare from his colonel.

Well then, Lionel smiled viciously as he turned back to view the scene, at least they are bringing death upon themselves

Looking back towards the structure, he saw a weapon being manned but that is all though it seemed to be a very dangerous looking weapon. Glancing back at his small team of ten elves, Lionel knew that a siege was out of the question. He nearly laugh aloud with the thought. He didnt even knew if they were friendly or not, so such assumptions now would be wrong.

Oh well, now how am I going to get in without being shot at, Lionel wondered. Lying flat down on the ground, he gazed at the structure with intensity. Elves are patient, and he has every intention to wait and study the position before any plan of action.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

((ooc: This is REALLY intersting, kind of like a series of games i played claled Fallout, did you happen to be inspired from there i wonder?, in any case BuMp))

Outside in the copter...

"Blistering corpse-dung," Skurz muttered to himself as he dragged the body of his victim out of sight of the copter hatch and into the rear of the vessel. He peered out of the side of the hatch. His murder had gone unobserved (he believed).

A handful of scenarioes ran through his mind, ways to justify the attack on his colleague. None came up plausible. He even thought of claiming one of the desert dwellers was responsible, but they hadn't even approached the copter, damn them.

Only one option. A hard one, but he had a personal transmitter and his superiors would send him aid.

Gathering his pack together, Skurz slipped out of the copter on the side away from the vigilant bunker guards and scrambled stealthily toward the nearby dunes.

To safety. He believed.

(OOC I was inspired by a great deal of things in this. Fallout Tactics was one of them with the Vaults. The Tallarns for IMperial Guard inspired by as TON, with laser weapons etc, but I am not restricting myself. Gorkamorka is inspiriing me about a couple of things (raider veicles, and the desert). So I have been effected by tons of series and the like, and the eye peice that Jasmina wears and some of her elite guards from and no I do not watch it often I hate it now, Dragonball Z, you know the eye piece that I think Freiza wore, do not quote me. OF course all of these things have been adapted, I thought black sand goggles would be practical and aid against radiation.

So thanks for your approval. The next part should be extremely interesting. Bear in mind Mordorians, and i am not lecturing you, you are doing brilliantly is that your nation wants something in return, which I am sure you already know. Happy debating!)

OOC:

Thanks Veric, I'm having fun. And don't worry... Skurash knows perfectly well what he wants (a couple of things at least). One is a weapon, the other...may become apparent.

IC:

(Inside the vault)

Skurash gestured aggressively at his audience.

"My people have much experience in underground fighting, and with the right tools we can breach any defenses. Lead us to the battle, Vault Dwellers, and we will triumph in the name of the All Knowing One. His power and graciousness reward all those who are in accord with him!"

He smashed his fist onto the table in emphasis. "Take me back to the surface and I will contact my people. They will send warriors, miners, all that we need. Why delay?"

Time enough to mention his demands and desires when the task was underway... after all having extra soldiers nearby always added urgency to any negotiation.

"Why delay indeed. The question that I ask is, what do you want in return?" Holst asked him sternly narrowing his eyes in some distrust. Everyone knew that this nation could easily cripple them by stealing thier commidities.

The others shared his sentements and looked towards the enegetic warrior for the reply. It could mean many things this answer.

Skurash forced a smile, trying to look sincere, succeeding only in baring his teeth some more.

"My master wants only your friendship, sharku, and perhaps to share in your knowledge. He is generous to his allies."

D'tok spoke again in responce, his tone a little less harsh, but his questioning no less demanding.

"What knowledge would we share? We can only share certain technology for many reasons. I know what you want." D'tok said to him, he had a feeling that they wanted the Vapi bombs. There was one in each vault. Vault one and two fired thiers, vault threes was still usable, yet vault 4's was broken down and used for parts for the more advanced technology. Vault 5 possibly may have a Vapi bomb...

Skurash, for all his aggressive nature and warlike history, was no fool.

"The important thing is to liberate your vault. Open the tunnels, clean out the vermin infesting them. Let me contact my people, they will start the airlift at once, warriors, tools." A thoughtful pause as he looked around, "Fresh, clean food. Luxuries and gifts, medicine for your sick and injured."

Secretly he thought, "and the people I will contact will be my own clan. The less those maggots in Intelligence know of this the better. That weapon will put me where I should be."

To the others he asked. "What is it to be? Friendship with my people, or will you scorn my master's kindness?"

D'tok looked to the others. They all put one hand forward in a sign language.

"Give us some time to discuss. We shall only take a short while. You can wait outside." D'tok said to him and waited for Skurash to leave. Outside there where a couple of metal chairs for him to sit. Outside there where two guards who kept guard upon the enterance, directly opposite the chairs.

Skurash was not used to being dismissed, but knew that presenting a diplomatic front was more important than standing on ceremony.

Rather than sit in the corridor he paced, keeping an appraising eye on the two soldiers.

"Food?" he suggested, offering the nearest of the two soldiers a strip of dried meat from his belt pouch. Getting no response he gnawed at it himself.

With the power of that weapon at his disposal what could he not achieve. Rulership of his clan, his province. Perhaps even...

... he quashed that thought before it formed. The Master was said to be able to smell treachery, to sense it even before it was voiced. Skurash swallowed hard, suddenly sweating. No, of course he was loyal to the Ever Ruling one, but perhaps he could be second, second in the kingdom.

That weapon...

"You know what he wants. What they want. He even said that they live for war." Holst said sternly to the rest. They all remained silent for a few seconds.

"What other choice do we have? We shall not give them the device. We used two and look what has occoured. And we prepared for it. Without the correct equipment, the area's enviorment will be pernamently removed! And we only had two, think of what will happen if they...mass produced them! We cannot allow them to obtain the Vapi technology!" Jasmina said to th others banging her fist upon the metal table.

"We all realise that. Giving them the Vapi technology is not acceptable. Our our technologies, possibly giving them some of the cystal that we mine steadyily to produce energy cells for the Kanrael technolgy. THey could have that technology. I am sure we have many things that they want." Ka Dariem said to the others calmly and softly, his youth gave him a certain degree of flexibility of change. He was the most open minded.

"But we cannot allow them to constrict us Ka Dariem. That would be worse than our current situation. What I suggest is this. We lay it out clearly that we will not allow the Vapi technology to be shared. Many of our most high tech weapons we shall not allow them to understand, not for what they are doing for us. What we shall do, is grant them cystal resources which can be used in prodcutio of laser weapoin and can be sold for a high price. Also, our military will provide assistance should the cause be good and that we approve of it. Are we agreed?" D'tok spoke to the rest of them, looking at the others. The others thought about it and found no other alternative.

"Agreed"
"Aye"
"Agreed" the other three said. D'tok nodded his head and pressed a button.

The door came back open for Skurash to enter again.

Skurash entered the room, meeting the stony expressions of the rulers of this underworld.

He listened in silence, but mounting rage, to their proposal. To his ears the carefully worded compromise sounded like an insult.

Finally he exploded, "You are foolish to anger the Great and Dread Lord of my people. You offer us trinkets and baubles and would withold from us this... this simple technology that we desire. He would grant you dominion over this land, freedom from your foes and you spit thus in his face! In times past this insult would-" he stopped, trying to master his bestial nature.

The sudden outburst was shocking in its over-reaction.

Silence fell as Skurash's thoughts raced.

"Heh," he forced a laugh, "heh, forgive me, I misunderstood. Your terms are acceptable, generous even. Allow me to contact my people and I will begin the transport of our - personnel to aid you."

The other where about to begin thier own retort to this outburst, and then when he said it was acceptable, D'tok extended his hand out to agree on the terms. When Skurash gripped it, D'tok's grip was espically hard, almost to the point of being painful.

"Let us begin. We shall begin the assembly of assualt platoons and miner teams." D'tok said.

Skurash rejoiced inwardly.

Once he'd contacted his clan and got his warriors here, perhaps he would reopen negotiations... perhaps they'd be more reasonable then.

He glanced slyly at Jasmina.

"Let us start work at once," he agreed.

---

OOC: I'm likely to be offline awhile now! Pick this up again later? Our elfy colleague may want to respond to Skurz's sudden decampment... anyway please feel free to develop this before I get back online. Skurash plans to

a) COntact his clan (he won't find the body in the copter yet and may assume that Skurz and Magglurz have deserted!)
b) Bide his time, annoying the locals and trying to get a size up the potential risk. He'll almost certainly outrage the locals with his abrasive manner.

Catch you later!

(OOC Sure, I need to go to work soon anyway. This is really shaping out well, I am just trying to get the next part done well, with my people's equipment and tactics etc. Just bear in mind where they will be fighting...)

OOC: You guys move fast on this topic or is it that you live in the same region of the world? :) I am in australia by the way.

IC: The murderer walked past Lionel's hidden form, watching the figure who seemed in a hurry. And he was about to stumble upon his elves position. Making a quick decision, Lionel silently rose from his position, always keeping the sun in front of him so that his shadow wont fall across his quarry. Pulling the knife from his belt, he caught up to the figure and maintained his pace, standing a feet behind him.

Sensing something behind him, the human was about to turn when he felt a blade nicked his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Dont move", Lionel whispered. "Dont even reach for your weapon or you will find your head on the dirt".

The human went immediately still as the elf tighten his grip with the knife and drew more blood, barely controlled fury was held by the iron discipline of the elf.

"It is time we went for a little walk", Lionel whispered harshly into his foe's ear, "I think we will have a lot of things to discuss, you and I".

And with that, he hit the back of the prisoner's neck who promptly fell unconsious to the ground. Taking out a silken rope, Lionel proceeded to tie the unconcious human, and easily lifted him over his shoulders.

Draping his camo cloak over the human and himself, he blended into the dunes, walking back towards his warriors to prepare to find a more secure location for he knew the place will soon be swarming with personnel looking for the missing man. And he knew he would like a long and undisturbed amount of time to gain the information he needed from what he saw as a cold blooded murderer. An elf's mind is an aliens mind, it is mainly logical and he knew that torture may be necessary to gain the information that he needed.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: Well I live in England and today was a very very dead day at work - half a day, no one actually expected to do anything, and unlimited net access.... hence quite a few posts!

IC:

Skurz's consciousness slowly started to ebb back. Pain first, an awareness only of unpleasant sensation, with burning searing agony around his wrists where the silk cord touched him. The aching in his head from the blow that knocked him out was of secondary concern.

Of primary concern was the knowledge of who (or rather what) had him captive. Their stink was in his nostrils, a primal ancient fear overwhelmed him and he fought to lie still, to feign unconsciousness while he had time to think.

It didn't work. His captor shook him as he sensed awareness return and Skurz opened his eyes. Skurz felt his skin crawl, as though trying to escape the glare (worse than the desert sun) of his elven captor.

OOC Info: It's pretty likely that Lionel will sense fairly early on that while Skurz (and his companions) look pretty normal - albeit brutish and thug like- there is something else... unpleasant... in their ancestry somewhere. Even if he doesn't consciously figure it out there's likely to be an instinctive revulsion response. Just trying to make it tough on Skurz. He deserves it, little rat.

(Back with Captain Skurash)

Skurash returned to the surface, grunting with pleased surprise at the crucified corpses.

"Ha, you should nail them up while they're still wriggling," he joked with the nearest Vault dwelling trooper. No response. Skurash growled to himself as he crossed the landing zone. His warriors lurched to a parody of attention.

"Need to transmit a message," he snapped, "private confidential. You maggots stay--- wait." He sniffed the air like a hound.

"Blood." he muttered. Something else nagged at his senses. A quiet alarm that gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Pushing that aside he bounded into the copter and ripped away part of the cargo webbing. Magglurz's body slumped out.

This in itself was not enough to horrify a veteran like Skurash. Feuds and vendettas often worked themselves out on active duty, but not usually in such an unknown environment. But the instinctive alarm growing in him made him extra cautious.

He emerged from the copter after sending a brief signal, not to his superiors but to his clan chief.

"Warriors!" he called to his team, not even noticing Skurz's absence. "Fan out, guard the perimeter."

He glanced at the Vault soldiers at their cannons, discounting them as the culprits. His guts told him that something far more horrible was responsible.

"Theres ... something... out there. Move!"

OOC: me, it was the opposite, father was insistant that i 'work' over anything.....he was cruel :) and i wont be able to post nething on the 26-27th cause i have to do more of it except its on a large piece of land.. :cry:

IC:Lionel gazed at the captive, who was slowly regaining consiouness and gazing about with fear. That urge of violence and rage erupted within him again, but the legendary discipline of his race asserted itself once again. He was stunned by the ferocity of his feelings but he ignored it the first time, blaming it at the calousness of his captive and of the surety that he had found one of those responsible for the massacre. But for a second time for it to happen.., Lionel was immediately curious about his foe.

With his cold alien eyes he stared at his captive, noting brutish features even more pronouced for a human, though he has rarely seen one. His stare seemed to be uncomfortable to the prisoner but it was of little concern to Lionel. He checked within himself and noted with surprise that the rage was still there though bound by several rings of iron.

"I want some water", the prisoner croaked, whether from a dry throat or fear, Lionel didnt know.

"You will remain silent unless spoken to human", Lionel responded in a quiet clipped tone with all the authority of his six hundred years. And emphasising his point, he drew his LSCK (long slim combat knife) and pointed it threatenly towards the mark on his captive's throat.

"Now you will answer my questions quietly and willingly or you may find that I am willing to use.....other methods to achieve my goals. And dont worry", Lionel pointed to the enclosed surroundings of a cave with his knife, "noone will hear you scream".

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: LSCK! LOL! Very Tom Clancy... may I steal the gag for my RL role playing group?

Anyway...

IC:

Skurz fought to assert his self control. His training in the intelligence corps had sought to prepare him for situations like this, but...

...but Elves! Worse than impossible, worse than a nightmare. Like a hatchling bird will flinch from the shadow of a hawk it could never have seen before, something deep inside Skurz flinched at the mere presence of this horror.

He formulated a defiant response, to stall for time. But the eyes were on him. What came out was

"Don't hurt, please."

The LSCK didn't waver, but Skurz was more terrified of the gaze than the blade.

"I'll talk. I was prisoner of soldiers, escaped in their uniform."

OOC: Sure but i made that word up, I like shortening excessively long words :D and sure, you can steal it.

IC: Lionel snarled, which suprised his captive and even him, but he detected something within the statement and knew that he couldnt trust him. It was this unreasoning area within his mind that seemed to assert a control over him though it was barely suppressed by his will. I wont get anywhere if this kept on, Lionel thought in frustration though his face showed none of his emotions that raged within.

"I believe you arent telling me the truth, and since you spoke when you werent meant to", and with that Lionel's arm with the LSCK snaked forward and sliced shallowly across his captive's chest. It wasnt by cruelty he did it, but by necessity to enforce his word.

"Now tell me, what is your name", Lionel ordered.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Nice writting My friends

Nice writting My friends

OOC: Thanks, though i seem to be operating in the wrong timezone :D

OOC: It may be the wrong timezone but I'm heller sure it's warmer with you than me!

IC:

Lionel was rewarded with a tirade of petrified obscenities from his captive, a response far out of proportion to the pain inflicted. Finally Skurz ran out of invective and sagged, his eyes dumb and helpless.

"My name is Skurz," he whimpered (a lie, but even he didn't realise that, when an Intelligence Corpsman took on a role they buried the truth deep). "I'll tell you anything, just stop looking... just take the knife away."

No immediate response from his questioner, silence an effective tool in interrogation that leaves the prisoner space to fill with talking.

Skurz waited, heart pounding before the pressure of the silence got to him.

"We're here to meet those damned tunnel rats! I don't know anything more than that."

OOC: :lol: But it is too damn hot!!! bloody summer heatwaves!! Give me more winter ne day.

IC: The name Skurz instantly gave him a wave of suspicion, the harsh sounding name sent a shiver of murderous intent coursing through Lionel's body. If only Skurz knew just how close he was to losing his head, he would have screamed in terror. Lionel was horrified but he knew his stony contenance would not reveal his private battle though he knew his aura was giving off waves of malevolence.

"That was better", Lionel gave a flicker of a smile.

"Now my second question, who are these 'tunnel rats'?", and if you so chose to freely elaborate on your responces, I may find it within myself to have mercy on you".

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

"I don't know who they are I don't know who they are," Skurz babbled. "Just a soldier, just a lowly soldier, they tell us nothing, expect us to fight, to die for nothing, but a knife in the back if we refuse."

No sympathy seemed forthcoming, the babbling slowed a little.

"We got a signal, radio signal. No one known out here, so Captain Skurash led us out here to investigate. That's all I know."

Another silence.

"We were... attacked when we stopped to get bearings. Then we came here. The captain's beneath."

Pause. Skurz came up with another approach.

"I'll help you take them out..."

"And you would assume that we would naturally resort to assassinations to achieve our goals? I think not human", though Lionel used the word Human with less conviction as if sensing something within this creature.

"And you disgust me with your wish to kill your own leader, though I want to know why you would kill your own comrades. By your own admission, you have just stated that you were part of this group", Lionel stared coldly into the creature's eyes.

"You will tell truth or you wont ever leave this cave alive again".

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

"I have no loyalty to Skurash!" Skurz spat the words out. "He is monster and bully! His clan treacherous and foul. Conscripts like me - he kills and tortures. Give me asylum, it would be death to return me to them now."

Skurz risked a convincing sob of fear.

OOC: btw Elvarin, you're more than welcome to contribute to an open RP thread entitled "Edge of Shadows" - set in a free city on the edge of my nation. While I get the impression your nation is incredibly unlikely to want to have a legitimate diplomatic presence there, they may want to keep an eye on things going on. I'm likely to be offline for a while now. Happy Christmas by the way to all on this thread, watchers and contributors alike!

Smiling coldly, "You lie yet again, for I saw those gunners in their towers and they would have fired upon your copter and yourselves but they seemed to be relaxed while your 'friend' was alive".

"In fact", Lionel caressed Skurz left cheek with his LSCK, "We knew about your signals and so you wouldnt be attacked by the guards", he continued menacingly, "We knew about your dialogue".

He stared coldly at Skurz and slid the knife slowly, deeply down his captive's cheek, drawing blood and grabbing his head to keep him still.

"I dont know bout your loyalty to whoever Skurash is", Lionel spat the name out in disgust, the words fouling his mouth, "But I now know that you are a liar and you better realise the fact that if you dont give me truth, you will soon be joining those poor people nailed to the metal stakes".

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment


OOC: sure, why not. I can always use spies to find out ;P And merry christmas to all....foolish mortals bwahahaha "cough" :wink: "cough"

Skurz reached a point of cold resolve. He had heard of the legendary ruthlessness and cruelty of the elves, of the fire in their eyes.

"Pox on you and your half made race," he spat the words out venomously. "Kill me if you will, we do not fear death, but give me a blade that I may face you like a warrior! Skurash is dung, offal, meat to be wasted on a butcher's floor. He showed insolence to a Lord of my nation and should die, his clan too proud to bear themselves as subjects, traitors to the bone!"

Rage gave him courage. He struggled against the rope but the accursed burning filth had no give in it.

"Burn the whole lot of them, I don't care! My true name is Kurvazg, of the Steeljaw clan, give me a blade and let me die as I should!"

Lionel tilted his head and made a decision, getting up and leaving the curious raging human/creature on the floor. He wiped the blood off his blade and moved away from the figure.

There was a ring of truth in his name but even that he wasnt willing to trust, but Lionel knew that to let him commit to his death wish would be unbenefactory to himself and his mission. Walking to his warriors who were crouched down and eating a meal while watching the proceedings with disapproval, he knew that they realised that it was necessary. Though tormenting a creature is what an elf would never willingly do.

Rifling through the gear of Skurz, he found some interesting things, but most of all a tracking beacon. This would come in handy, as Lionel pocketed it. As of the nation of Former Mordorians, all he knew was of the UN reports though he never knew the race or people living there.

Sighing, He went back towards Skurz and said, "At last, I see your truths though you restrain them truly and strong. For that I honour you".

But then the hard glint came back into his eyes, "However, we are not finished yet".

"You have shown to be untrustworthy and kill without remorse. Though you demand to die with honour, you killed your companion honourlessly", he continued judgingly, "Why should you receive any different?"

"I will spare your life, if you tell me what your mission was and what is your master's intention with this nation, or you will be killed without honour, dying from a slit throat, lying in some cave where your corpse will never be seen from again".

"You choose", Lionel ended awaiting either defiance or submissal he knew neither.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Skurz - or rather Kurvazg - met the elf creature's gaze and managed to hold it.

"I will betray the dog Skurash, but never my Lord the All Consuming and Ever Watchful! Death at your hands is better. Kill me now, but my blood curses you and all your warriors. My spirit will howl after you in the dawn watches and draw enemies to you!"

OOC: Lionel may well notice that the beacon also appears to comprise a remote detonation controller. It is quite obvious what the function is, though of course the location of the "business end" may not be so obvious. :)

"I have no fear of your spirit for I am of the elfinkind and such matters can and is often resolved by our arcana. If your want to lose your spirit eternally, then making me angry would be a wise choice".

Sighing to himself, "Well betraying one is better than nothing I suppose"

"What of Skurash intentions here then? He was sent by your master and there is no denying that fact. So what were his objectives?", Lionel was weary, but he knew he must go on with this interrogation.

"Now tell me what I need, and you will be able to return to your master", gazing at him with resolve, "with all of your limbs attached".

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC:In real life as well i am weary...gods!! Its 5.44am. Nite. Oh and i have this reluctance to slit your guy's throat cause i though it may upset you :wink:

(OOC Great going. I am afraid I am just about to go on my holidays to Tenareef (sp I know)! I will be back on the 3rd, so please do not do anything drastic. Happy holidays! I might be able to talk again with my wireless laptop on the plane, but we shall see, we shall see. Not enough time!)

(OOC Great going. I am afraid I am just about to go on my holidays to Tenareef (sp I know)! I will be back on the 3rd, so please do not do anything drastic. Happy holidays! I might be able to talk again with my wireless laptop on the plane, but we shall see, we shall see. Not enough time!)

OOC: Have fun, anyway, i wont be here on the 26-27 or28th, so no worries. Its not as if we have the power to blow apart the galaxy....or do we :D ?

OOC: Have a great time! I probably won't be able to log on too much for the next few days anyway. Nice to "meet" you guys by the way. Have a good Christmas, and we'll pick things up later?

OOC: And don't worry about slitting Skurz's throat, I'm not attached to the little rat, and I can't see many alternatives for him!

bump

Similarly, "bump", to help my co-contributors find the thread when they return from their holiday/their work in the next day or so...

Gratuitous double bump

OOC: I am back from mowing a 1 acre lawn on a sloping hill...it wasnt fun. Well Former mordorians? Is skurz gonna reply or do i have to slice it out of him :D ? Oh, and is he an 'orc'? I have this weird feeling...... :wink:

OOC: "Trust your feelings, Luke"- Skurz may not look like your typical Orc, but he is triggering all the same hot buttons of revulsion that an Orc would. Strange, really... plus his reaction to Lionel is what you would expect, no? Skurz really has told Lionel all he is capable of telling - the govt of the Former Mordorians don't really divulge that much to their sneaky little wretches. Cut him into chunks if you like (it would seem to be appropriate!) but he can't really add any more info other than some inventine obscenities. Lionel's pal Lerathin may be finding more out about the shady past of the FMs anyway. Glad you're back - I've been having my hands full with random artillery bombardments recently...

OOC: artillery bombardments? Never mind

IC: "Why arent you answering me? Tell me the purpose of this buttons", Pointing at the tracking device, "And the name of your master, and skurash's objectives".

Lionel was tired with this creature and he felt his willpower being sapped from being this close to Skurz. Lionel didnt know why, but he knew that if this went on any longer, he would kill skurz in pure madness, with or without answers.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

"PRESS THE DAMNED BUTTON YOU HALF MADE FOOL!" roared Skurz in almost hysterical rage. "Press the button, and scythe those butchers from the face of the planet! Skurash must never come back from this mission anyway, and whether you finish him, or I do, or those Vault-Worms, I don't care! He's angered my master, and he must die."

Finally, Lionel lost control over his instinctual rage and fury towards this snivelling creature. "Why do you refer to me as halfmade!", Lionel roared, his LSCK arcing forward to stab Skurz in the chest, but even in rage, he aimed so as not to hit any vital organs.

"I know now that it is rigged to explosives, but where!!", grabbing skurz by the throat and squeezing in near animalistic rage, he spat, "I have no intention of killing him until I know it is right! I dont care of your master and his fury! You should fear mine!!".

The seated elves stood up in shock, dumbfounded by the actions of their revered hero. One of them spoke up, "Sire! This is far and above what should be done!! Please!! Remember your honour!"

And with those last words, a haze lifted from Lionel's eyes and he peered at the wounds that he caused on a captive. Trying to slow his breathing, he pulled the knife out of Skurz's chest slowly while asking, "Who are these 'vault-worms'?"

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: LSCK never fails to LOL me up!

IC:

"Copter," gurgled Skurz, "copter, bomb in copter. No survivors, no surv- damn your burning eyes - no survivors, that's the plan.... >choke< vault worms - don't know who... sent message, we sent to make first contact... "

Even through the pain, the instinctive cruelty of his nature saw an opening, a raw nerve that Skurz could not fail to probe.

"...your blood lust... gives promise of what you could become... my master will complete you..."

OOC: I just love the term :D

Then suddenly, Lionel felt he knew who he was dealing with. "You're an ORC!!", Lionel raged.

His arm arced forward but stopped within inches of Skurz's throat, "But I shall never stoop to your level", Lionel roared as he stood up and walked away, his body shivering in pure agony at the simple gesture.

I am not gonna become a fallen one for that twisted creature, never be a Dark Elf, Lionel was shaking but he knew what he must now do. Turning to an elf, he ordered, "Bandage that corrupted fool!! Its time to make him useful".

And with that he strode towards the mouth of the cave as a elven warrior returned from a silent patrol, and gave a hand signal, "I have found the captive's comrades. They're close".

Lionel nodded in thanks and began preparing his warriors for a suprise meeting...

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Skurz howled in rage at being suddenly ignored, his coarse features twisting into a bestial mask of fury, spittle frothing around his teeth:

"Forbidden word!" he yelled, then shrieked at the touch of the elvish dressings being applied to his wounds. "Soldiers now! Civilised! Get this filth off me, arrrch, give me a blade you mincing scum, fight me! FIGHT ME!"

The creature's pathetic struggles suddenly stopped as Skurz lapsed into a faint.

Gagging Skurz's mouth to avoid him suddenly giving the game away, Lionel had the orc lifted by an elf to be place in the path of Skurash group. Its time to wage war upon the ancient foe, Lionel smiled grimly, Knowing that they are orcs is all I need to know that what i will do is right, and turning the device ound in his hands And if all else fails, there is still the matter of the explosives

"Listen up warriors one and all of The Elvarin!! Today we make war once more against the ancient foe!! These orcs will fear us once again as they taste the fury of the Elves!! Only once they are destroyed shall we find out more bout the nation from the desert but until then, we reap orc blood!!"

The elves cheered mightily and set forth out into the desert, preparing to lay an ambush for Skurash. The elves once again go forth to do battle with a forgotten foe.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

"Can't abide this dunging heat," muttered Glagraz to the nearest of his comrades, "Not dunging natural."

"Desert," his comrade responded sagely, "always hot. Anyway, it's a damn site hotter in the hives so shut your stinking hole. Captain's orders. Silent patrol."

"My hairy arse," Glagraz retorted wittily. "Captain's orders. Captain's orders. My hairy arse. What's got into him, jumping at shadows. Nothing out here but scorpions and my hairy arse. Har."

The pair looked back over their shoulders. The rest of the unit was fanned out in a diagonal line spread over about two hundred yards. Glagraz and Umhurk were taking point and keeping an eye out for potential trouble.

Glagraz, occupied with his own wit stumbled over Skurz' bound and wounded body. Cursing he lashed out with his feet kicking Skurz in the guts. Umhurk yanked Skurz half upright.

"SKURZ?" he yelled, shaking his wounded comrade.
"Uh..." Glagraz grunted, squinting his deep set eyes at the injured warrior, "that's not Skurz."

Behind them, the platoon moved onward...

Two hurled LSCK's thudded into the throats of Glagraz and Umhurk, and both slumped bloodily to the ground clutching madly at their throats and trying to send a warning to the group but to no avail. Two elfs rose from their hidden position, no more then 20 metres from the corpses, and moving to claim them before they are seen and and covered the blood.

Checking to see that Skurz was still unconscious the elves departed, one of them quipping, "They really should have listened to their captain, otherwise it would have been more fun trying to hurl the LSCK's with less target noise. It would have been slightly more difficult".

"Sssh" whispered Keblag to the nearest trooper in line, "you get us killed."
"Can't help it," whimpered the unfortunate warrior, "guts bad."
"Captain said not to eat that. Primitive behaviour, bad." Keblag assumed a superior air. "Not civilised like should be."

"Washed it first."
"In what?"
"urrrrrr.... guts bad," his companion moaned.

The platoon came to a sudden halt at the top of a dune. The desert stretched emptily away from them. A hundred yards or so ahead a warrior's body lay in a crumpled posture.

"Is that Glagraz?" Keblag muttered. "Where Umhurk gone?"
"No sign, no tracks... let's go back."
"Tell Captain."

The sick warrior unhooked a RT microphone from his pack and prepared to call Skurash back at the landing site. The other troopers formed a defensive half circle, assault rifles at the ready.

The hated foe below him grouped into a defensive half circle and his indignant heart demanded that the enemy was annihilated, utterly. Nodding to the elf with the rail gun, the sniper immediately took aim at the orc who was carrying what seemed to be the radio. He released a single shot but however he was a tad too late for as his target's head disappeared, the orc pressed the sending button.

Cursing, Lionel gave the order to open fire upon the group and on both sides, elves started firing their pulse rifles and hurling frag grenades amongst the enemies feet. Their rounds caused little or no damaged amongst the enemy armor for they were yet to be replaced with newer ammo, but if it were to hit an unarmoured section, it would still cause critical injury.

Cursing to all the gods, Lionel just hoped he could finish them before reinforcements arrive.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

ooc: this show my military

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=10954&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=680

For all their undisciplined brutality, the soldiers of the Former Mordorians were not unused to real warfare. As the ambush hit, long ingrained reflexes kicked in and a cohesive withdrawal was attempted.

The warriors strafed the dunes with the hollow point fire from their assault rifles, launching anti personnel grenades at the unseen foe.

In any ambush situation the advantage lies with the attacker however, and the Mordorian forces began to be cut down one by one. What casualties if any they had inflicted on their attackers they could not tell.

Keblag roared defiance at the invisible enemy as he scrambled backward up the yielding sand of a dune, strafing left and right with barbaric ferocity. No sign of a target, no sign of a target. That meant only one thing to him.

ELF

Lionel cursed as he lost another elf, their precious lifeblood staining a foreign land. Their flak jacket were meant to protect them but as its been shown, they are only good for stopping shrapnel. Even with the orcs random fire, elves were falling and Lionel knew he had to do something drastic for he has far too few elves to accomplice the original mission let alone now.

With a pull of a pin, Lionel hurled his frag grenade into the midst of the foe to distract them and yelled, "Come! I challenge your leader to single combat! The terms are if I win you surrender! If your's win, you may walk out of here alive or you can die here by unseen enemies!! What do you wish!?"

Loosening his family sword, Lionel just hoped he could save the lives of his elves before anymore succumb to a far too early grave.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Keblag could not believe the sudden shouted offer. No soldier of the Former Modorian army would trust a deal like this from an... from one of those beings!

He continued scrambling away, rolling over the top of the dune and hopefully to safety.

Down below the rest of the soldiers crouched, covering the dune tops with their assault rifles, wary panicked eyes scanning every inch of the unyielding terrain.

The platoon moron, Makoss, suddenly stood bolt upright and tore off his helmet, hurling it to the sand.

"I choose to fight!" Makoss roared, to the dismay and confusion of his platoon. Nonetheless they took the opportunity to clear space between Makoss and themselves.

"Dung-brain," Keblag muttered, "dung dung dung brain. Always was simple."

Makoss was new to the army, had strange ideas. He threw down his rifle and drew the B3K that was a standard issue (Broad Bladed Butcher Knife).

"MAN TO MAN," he roared at the invisible enemy. "MAN TO MAN FOR THE LIVES OF OUR PEOPLE."

Despite his bluster Makoss fell back a pace or two as Lionel appeared from nowhere not many metres away (OOC: assuming he does! If not I'll do some judicious editing). The other troopers scuttled away from the horrific foe. Makoss swung his B3K with practised ease.

Keblag, not believing his luck, cradled his assault rifle in his shoulder and sighted on Lionel's forehead...

OOC: Lol to the B3K :D

IC: Lionel assumed the warrior in front of him was the leader of this group of warriors, he leapt forward to meet him, his camo cloak thrown back over his shoulders. Moving with graceful speed, Lionel swung his sword down upon the foe's own blade. With practiced ease, Lionel ducked under the return swing only to sense that someone was taking a bead on him. Dishonourable scum!, Lionel raged within as he brought his sword down once again on the orc, who seemed like an honourable foe but whose swordskill was slow, horribly slow. Lionel's sword raced out and managed to disarm his opponent.

Making a quick decision, Lionel did the unexpected, and turned away from his foe to hurl his sword like a javelin towards the orc who was aiming at him. Lionel was gratified to hear a scream from his target as he desperately tried to avoid the return fire.

The orc that he was dueling stood there dumb founded until Lionel grabbed him as well and both doved into cover. "Great friends you got", Lionel screamed into the orc's ear.

"Elves, open fire!! Let none live!! I want my sword back!!"

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Keblag's body twitched in his death throes, the elvish blade piercing his chest. He dropped the rifle from his nerveless fingers and rolled backward down the dune away from the sudden fusilade of return fire.

Facing upward into the hazy sky, he thought:

"That's the end of us then,"

--

Meanwhile, Makoss was trying to tear the head off the elf warrior who had dragged him out of the firing line. Not a quick thinker he responded to Lionel's words with the parade ground rhetoric that had been drummed into all the warriors of his people:

"FRIEND, FRIEND? A friend will be your fr*gging end!"

He attempted to sink his thumbs into Lionel's eyes, but his opponent had surprising strength for his size and the two combatants remained locked in their struggle.

--

Life for Keblag was slipping away, his eyes fixed open on the empty sky... empty... no. A dark speck in the west, growing nearer. On the heavy air he heard the noise of engine thrumming. A single vehicle...

"The copter," he croaked as his eyes closed, "The copter is coming."

Skurash seated himself behind the controls for the vulcan cannon in the armoured cockpit of the assault copter, the pilot grimly circling as they saw the firefight below.

"Whole platoon wiped out," Skurash roared, "worthless dung worms."

"Some still live," the pilot responded.

Skurash flicked the cannon power switch and the barrels outside the copter began to rotate ready to fire. "Useless dung-worms, don't deserve a second chance."

He knew it would be hours yet before his clan warriors and miners would be arriving at the vault to begin their work. Skurash would have to finish this job himself...

OOC: ummm sorry bout the platoon, but i really dont have that much elves to allow them to die like that. I do hope you have more where tht came from :D cause i know i dont, (well not in the near future anyway)
Still, i hope you didnt think wat i did was excessive.

IC: Fighting viciously in the dirt, Lionel struggled hard against the orc, and placing his leg to the chest of the orc, managed to hurled him off and screamed, "You better run now fool, for I am fast losing my patience for a beast like you even though you were honourable!"

And with that, he leapt away but only to hear a very disturbing sound and glanced up to see a copter fast approaching. Cursing, Lionel ran towards the dying orc who had his sword in his chest. With a hard wrench, he pulled his family sword out from the screaming creature and ran towards his warriors. With a single signal from his hand, he gave the order to withdraw.

Damn it!! I wished we had the prototype MPRL's(Multi-Purpose Rocket Launcher) to take down that copter. No matter, orc blood and limbs litter this field this day though my elves paid a hefty price as well

Turning he saw his warriors clearly picking up the lifeless forms of four of his elves and one severedly wounded, so as not to leave any to be defiled by the foe.

Noticing the copter fast approaching, Lionel screamed out an order, "Camo cloaks on now, scatter and regroup at cave!!"

Lionel stopped and blended in seamlessly into the environment, whether desert or forest he was trained for this, and prepared to provide covering fire. He will not lose more elves this day.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: Don't worry in the slightest about the platoon, their masters won't nor will I... I'm surprised you chose to flee from the copter though... :wink:

IC:

Skurash had the pilot circle low over the battle site, his eyes searching for the enemy who had seemed to melt into the very sand itself.

"Elf sorcery," he muttered, "elf science, all damned elves should be impaled."

He turned to the pilot, "Circle, the enemy is still down there."

As the pilot obliged, Skurash began to strafe wildly back and forth over the scene of the firefight, the vulcan cannon rounds tearing up the sand in a desperate and futile attempt to slay elves by sheer volume of fire.

The Mordorian troopers on the ground tried to flee from the deadly hail of bullets but they were cut down by the copter's fire. Better a thousand allies die than an elf live... that was always a maxim of Skurash's people.

Makoss, the warrior who had grappled with Lionel stood to his full height and roared his anger at the black copter that glowered above him, his fists raised, punching the air itself.

The vulcan cannon never ceased its shrieking for a second, and Makoss disappeared in a cloud of blood and bone.

Skurash grunted in primal satisfaction at a weapon used to devastating effect.

OOC: Dont wanna waste a good suprise :wink: Just holding on to it for a while longer....

IC: Lionel watched in stupedfied horror as the copter sweep round and round, savagely killing their own warriors in a hail of steel and shrapnel. Several times, Lionel felt the kiss of steel against flesh, agonising in the extreme but his centuries old discipline asserted itself, forcing him not to move so as not give away his position.

He saw the only honourable orc he met died a gruesome death, and felt a pang of sympathy towards the beast. Glancing back up at the copter, Lionel wondered if it would soon leave or deploy more troops. I must check on my men, but I also must know if ground troops would soon follow them.

Still lying prone, he readied himself for either situations to happen.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Finally the deadly fire ceased, the cannons depleted (for now) and powering down with a disappointed whine.

The copter circled once more and touched down tentatively, like the first footfall on uncertain ice.

Skurash emerged from the copter, clutching his assault rifle in one hand, his B3K in the other. His deep set eyes tracked left and right looking for signs of life.

No elves. Not even one damned body. His whole platoon wiped out by those monsters and not even one of their inhuman mob taken out.

(IC: Yes, I know different, but since your guys removed all the bodies this is a natural conclusion given Skurash's state of mind!)

Skurash quickly did a circuit of the fire zone, despatching a couple of mortally wounded comrades with his blade, removing their dogtags and clan jewellery.

He looked around slowly at the horizon trying to catch a scent in the air.

"Not a damn thing," he snarled. "Elf ghosts, damn their burning eyes."

He turned back toward the copter.

Lionel gazed at the lone figure who had caused a fare amount of bloodshed amongst his own kind. Raising his rifle to his eyes, he was tempted to end this here and now, but he knew it was dishonourable to shoot him in the back. But his sense of honour wouldnt be offended if he shot him in the legs...and more importantly, he had to know what these creatures were up to.

Skurz was almost next to useless, Lionel thought angrily.

Oh well, this creature is gonna love this gift, and promptly shot the orc in its leg, watching in quiet amusement. Time to leave, but I do believe we will meet again, and with that Lionel shifted away silently to return to his men.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Skurash's knee buckled and he fell as the shot hit his leg.

He clutched at the copter for support roaring in pain and anger (more anger to be honest, his nervous system was used to pain, overused to it).

"GET ME INSIDE!" he yelled at the pilot, whose eyes goggled uselessly at his injured chief. "GET ME INSIDE, THERE'S AN ELF ARMY OUT HERE."

Strangely this seemed to have the reverse effect to that intended, and instead of leaping out of the copter and grabbing his captain, the pilot started to take off.

"No you don't you little bloody weasel!" Skurash moaned and grabbed hold of the doorway, pulling himself aboard.

OOC: I think we should leave some action for the other bloke too, dont ya reckon? :wink:

IC: Lionel gazed upwards as he saw the copter take to the air, his elven ears ringing as he heard the entire cursing from the injured orc, far more loudly than was normal. Shaking his head in quiet amusement, Lionel headed off to regroup with his elves. I do believe that i should return to the structure soon, Lionel mused, I must do what I originally came here to do.

When he finally returned to the cave, Lionel was immediately saddened as he found his elves preparing the rites of the dead for the four of his warriors that had fallen this day. Low chanting reveberated throughout the cave as Lionel joined in to clean the dead, taking as well their LSCK's to slice into the dead's chest the elven symbol of unity and death. When it was done, lionel finally chanted the words of the departed and covered the dead with their camo cloaks.

"We were born as individuals, though our spirits are one. Return to the great wheel for your duty to your kind has ended with honour. We will meet again, to bring light into the darkness of the world. So as it has always been, and so shall it continue. Farewell my brothers".

With the rites done, Lionel and the remaining elves stood up to leave the cave and its new inhabitance. We will come back to bury you my brothers, Lionel thought bitterly, in the lands of our fathers. But we have our duty to fufill first.

And in complete silence, they left the desolate haunting cave to achieve their mission.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: I completely agree! Veric should be back from Tenerife on the 3rd January. I was happy to continue this "in the desert" interlude with the patrol and your evil terrorist forces (ahem) as it wouldn't impact on Veric's own plotline of rising from the Vault (I also knew that even if Skurash were killed, his clan forces are en route to assist the Vault Dwellers so no harm would be done to his plot thread).

IC: Skurash grunted in pain as he bound up his injured leg, hunched over in one of the crew seats in the rear of the copter. In his own way he too partook of the ancient funeral rites of his people.

"What did you have you maggot," he muttered as he thumbed through the booty he had taken from the slain. "Coins, coin, uhm, string, gold tooth (whose?), ammo, necklace (pretty), filthy postcard. Heh."

He pocketed the items of value and tossed the rest out of the copter.

"Useless b*stards," he snarled and settled himself in for the flight back to the landing strip by the vault.

OOC: Well then, as long as neither of us gets tooo excessive :wink:

IC: They moved with rapid speed, their footfalls silent as they seem to glide and shift into their surroundings, centuries of skill manifesting themselves as they moved with silent fury.

Orcs have died this day but so have elves, and among them there was no celebration for what they had accomplished this day. Lionel clenched and unclenched his hand, knowing deep down that he might be threading down a path that might lead him to damnation, to be a cursed Dark Elf. But then he remembered about his twin, the sightless Arethas and knew that he must not do anything to hurt him or their family honour.

Fast approaching their destination, they slowed to a walk before going prone and crawled towards the structure, moving towards a vantage point to survey the surrounding area. Their camo cloaks were tight about their bodies, each and every elf clenched their weapons tightly, tensed for anything to happen.

What shall happen now?, Lionel pondered as the sun beated down upon them.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: My computer has overheating probelms so wont be on for a while. Dont think me dead :wink:

(OOC: Posting some "filler" material here to keep the thread live for Veric's return from holiday)

IC:

In the far south of the Former Mordorian Protectorate, on an artificially created plateau atop a jagged mountain of deep red stone, there was much activity.

Scores of men worked around the clock to load supplies, tools and ammunition into the half dozen heavy transport helicopters that had been assigned to this mission.

Around the edge of the airfield, heavily armoured troopers stood watching the activity, their assault rifles ready.

Among the workers strode an imposing figure, a full head and a half taller than any of his peers, Commander Kushrag had a reputation that brooked no compromise. His head was shaved, his features coarse, the lines of dozens of ancient scars still marking his countenance.

He was counted a nobleman in his clan, but his rank was due to hard experience rather than privilege. He had no time for slackers, cowards or other worm-fodder.

Kushrag, as was his habit, wore the simple combat armour of his own forces, with no insignia of rank to set him apart. He needed none.

"Get these crates stowed you worthless dog," he roared at one of his cringing workers. "Dust off is in half an hour and if we are delayed I'll flay your carcass and nail you out for the duskflies."

Activity resumed.

"Radio message for you Commander," called a trooper approaching briskly. "Headquarters enquiring about the patrols being cancelled."

Kushrag growled, deep in his throat. If headquarters realised this unofficial mission was being conducted his head would be on a spike outside the ministry.

"Send no response," he barked. "I'll contact them myself when we're in the air."

"Is that wise, sir?" the trooper began, but his only answer was a vicious blow that smashed his jaw and left him sprawled on the concrete, blood pooling beneath his shattered face.

"Never question me." Kushrag snarled.

OOC: hoped you had a smashing good time for new year's cause I know I had! :wink:

IC:

The marbled halls of the imperial council was filled with the clamour of arguments as the eleven council members of the twelve, raised the issue of Lionel's mission.

"Why has he yet to contact us!", the minister of war, Arondir Desilmir declared angrily, "He finds a new nation and sets off on his own, leaving an entire regiment in the field! I suggest we send in the first company of his regiment to retrieve him!"

The minister of infrastructre, Telathor Brightwing, bore his three thousand years heavily tonight agreed but requested, "Lionel is my son, he has trained all his life to the defence of our homes in warfare. There must be a reason why he is silent for so long. Please give him more time".

Arondir stared at the elder Brightwing before replying, "I am sorry, but I cant do that. I will order them out tommorrow. This is vital and at least you would know that your son is still alive"

Looking down at his chest Telathor replied, "I know he is"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lionel gazed down at the vault, wondering how his father and brother was doing this day. The copter had yet to return and Lionel knew that where there is one orc, there is always a thousand others. As he settled into his watch, wrapping his camo cloak tightly and remaining hidden amongst the dunes, Lionel hoped that whatever happens, he will bring home his warriors alive.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

BUMP

WHACK!

(OOC Well, a lot has happened I see. I think I understand this all, but please4 can someone tell me of what has occoured. Where are the elfs? Where are Moridians? Did this take place near the Vault? Because if it did, you have messed things up quite a bit. The entire Vault is alert, if an elf would have arrived and attacked against Veric's allies (at the moment at least) all hell would have erupted. So for simplisity sake, can we say that the Vault did not detect this attack, but just now a radio transmission was heard from either side. Where are you people? Give me infomation here, I need it. Oh yes, it is good to be back in the cold, although the burning sun was fun for a while. :D )

OOC: Hi Veric and welcome back! And don't worry we've been careful not to damage the emerging plotline! In summary:

Lionel's elves were en route to the bunker but never actually made contact. One of my rotten little troopers turned out to be a political plant and killed another trooper who had discovered that. He then fled into the desert where Lionel's guys caught him, took him some distance away and interrogated him.

Meanwhile Captain Skurash who your guys were negotiating with got paranoid that someone was out there and, after radioing in the request for aid your people had made, sent his men out to look for the missing trooper. They got into a firefight with Lionel's men and Skurash took the chopper out to help them.

The platoon got wiped out, the Elvarin disappeared, and Skurash is on his way back to the bunker alone (except for his pilot) and injured.

We were careful not to tamper with the bunker or the bunker-plot cos we knew you'd prefer it that way!

Glad to have you back!

IC:

The armoured copter circled the landing field twice, kicking up sand and dust between the crucified bodies of the raiders, settling down finally to land on the desert floor.

Skurash hauled himself out of the doorway and down the ramp, his wounded knee bound in thin grey dressings and a pressure compress pad. He was having trouble walking but gritted his teeth and lurched toward the vault.

"Fetch D'Tok!" he bellowed, "There are enemies outside! Ambush! Get your men on alert!"

The entire bunker erupted into a battle song of pounding feet and drilled orders. A siren sounded within the vault, a whine which everyone heard and responded to instantly. The gunners had already alerted the Vault and where looking out. The massive door enterance was opened and from it's gaping metal mouth poured out it's desert children, in each one of thier cradled hands thier lasrifles, the weapon of choice within the harsh envioment. Thier eyes where covered with the familer black goggles which made them seem devoid of emotion, they regemented out with absolute practiced skill and disicpline.

The three platoons, each consisting of sixteen men sprinted out into the desert forming a arrow head, on platoon in center, two on the flanks of the arrowhead. A sargent came up to Skurash, his stauts indicated by his weapon. He had a Hellgun, a variant of the lasgun. It was basicly a machine gun of the lasgun, each sargent had one. Also, one coud detect he was a sargent by the colour of his goggles, they where a tinted shade of red. Inside of these goggles where various tracking systems and a long range comm system. These platoons where some of the best, at least from Vault 1.

"What are we dealing with?" The sargent said, pointing his rifle out to the plains of the desert. He seemed completely unfased by the sand which was whipping around his body, his eyes saw perfectly, his body was covered by the wrapped clothes of the desert. Truelly, these where the deserts guardians. The sargent opened his comms system so that everyone could hear what they where dealing with, he did it with a swift click on his goggles.

The rest of the platoon pointed out thier guns in absolute confidance, all in unison. Each sargent gave out orders in a complex array of hand signals. Not that many where given, this was standard. Countless drills had been bored into each warrior here, thier experianced minds performing to thier best now. They watched for the enemy, where they where. The three gattling lasers watched out as they had done before, a barrage of bolts of light would spew forth if a detection the enemy was located.

Skurash watched the activity with admiration. These bunker dwellers were warriors, used to fighting and winning. Even without this ultimate weapon thing that had filled Skurash's thought since he had heard of it.

"Be on your guard!" he growled to the nearby sergeant. "Pale skinned deathbringers are out there... invisible till the moment they strike! Shoot them on sight."

He jabbed another thick ampule of pain deadening liquid into his thigh muscle and relaxed somewhat.

"Someone fetch me a medic!" he rasped.

A medic came to him swiftly, there was one in each platoon. Everyone knew how to use medical equipment to a degree, but the medics where experts in their field. He slung his lasgun around himself and pulls out a small desert camo case. He sprinted over to Skurash, and kneeled over to him. Without a single word, he opened up the case and set about reducing the damage. He pulled out a red rod like thing, and placed it by the wound. Proceeding to press a few buttons and reading the display he slid a slider into a midway position.

Skurash felt a numb pain for a moment, and thenhe felt his wound being healed from the inside out it seemed. It felt warm and fuzzy, like he was being microwaved or something. It would only provide a temporary healing solution, it would mend bones and such for a while, they could be used to run with etc, but it was not a permament solution. The bleeding would stop, the pain would cease soon, only a dull pain would remain.

The sargant nodded and flicked the comm off with his other men. They knew how to approach this threat. Although they had never faced an invisible enemy, wach sargant had a advanced goggle system. It had within it a method of detecting heat souces, which detected the background heat of the desert, it knew it and canceled it out. It could see normal people as clearly as they would within the arctic. The trouble was, the only people who had them where the sargants and the gunners. They kept a vigilant eye out, the gunners could still see the entire area. If they saw someone, they would immediately fire. The guns where fairly inaccurate, but nothing could survive a barrage from their guns. It fired roughly fifty bolts in a barrage, all consentrated in a six barrel attack. A barrage could be made every minute or so, of course the gunner could choose not to attack in a barrage, but attack in controlled bursts.

OOC: Lolz, theres a reason Veric why my elves call their cloaks, camo cloaks mate. They would design it for such events. But I will give it to you this time :wink: But if you said you were using an auspex, i would have given it to you because it detects movement. You are after all using equipment frm the 40k Universe. Hope you had a great time and new year mate.

IC: Lionel watched as the copter returned and the orc that he shot limped out moving towards the vault. There was some yelling and in a space of a heartbeat, a large group of humans swarmed out to form into a staggered arrow.

He noted that the orc was receiving medical treatment and smiled. Excellent, I can cause more damage later and was stunned as the thought flickered through his mind.

I have been in the desert for too long, was his quiet excuse.

He turned back to the scene and struggled to formulate a plan. How am I meant to make peaceful contact now with the orcs there giving lies about our kind, Lionel cursed.

With a deft signal from his hand, his warriors backed off slowly from their hidden position to lie behind the dunes and wait for further orders from Lionel.

They should be safe, never let anyone do what you yourself can. He decided to hunker down to see what else would developed.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: Skurash is taking a breather and letting other people run round for once, but I feel compelled to do more than a "BUMP" so...

IC:

The T shaped formation of ugly black copters continued their approach toward the coordinates Skurash had transmitted. Aboard them, eager troopers and workers snapped and bickered at one another, anxious for a chance to prove their mettle.

Captain Aletain was in the process of sitting down after another long day of military exercises when an orderly ran in and handed him a dataslate. "Sir orders from high up, we are to move".

Aletain groan in despair as he realised that he wont be getting any sleep. "Fine, alert first company. It seems we will finally be going to retrieve our lost Colonel".

I do hope that he is still alive, but he kept that thought to himself as he gathered his gear and weapons.

(OOC I know that your technology was not going to be foiled by a simple thermal detector, I did not think it would. Still, it is the only defence against invisible (at least in Vault 1... :D ) oppanents. It is the only thing they can use, and really have been trained to use. Possibly when/if you attack, another tactic might be employed, but only later. My soldiers know thier drills well, thier tactics have worked. What will they do against an enemy which will not fall under such tactics? 8) )

The platoon remained outside in the desert, waiting....they waited for a short time. Yet nothing occoured, only the braying of the sand filled winds filled thier ears and visors. After a few minutes, D'tok came down himself, armed fully. He was walking confidantly out, his desert cloak wrapped around him. He had heard the news. He did not need to come out, but he did. No enemy had been spotted, and that was slightly annoying. One should not have to sit out to fight your enemy, the raiders alwasy attacked in a flood, then retreated once they had sustained too many casuaslities.

No...you are dealing with a different opponant. One which knows intellegence....Better to wait within saftey within the Vault than wander out into the desert unprotected, D'tok thought. He knew the dangers of going out into the desert even a short distance. One could become lost, run out of supply and worse, be captured. No...everyone knew that would be folly.

"Qui'ven! Ieth Hols-teva, ji! Civen, ci tu!" D'tok bellowed out to his platoons in thier own battle language. It was a rather simple speak, which only dealt with combat and the military. Everyone knew it to some degree. It was similer to the coded system of previous military commanders, callsigns, enemy names and the like. The order which D'tok just said essentally meant, "Platoons, inside the defence, except Civen (name of platoon) remain on sentry by defence".

It was a language which was highly effective, one did not have the wasted time of normal speak. One knew what was said immediately without pleasantrys or delay. And one point was, if someone died mid-sentance, you could usually pick up what they going to say.

D'tok looked at Skurash with a skeptic eye, of course, Skurash could not see those harsh eyes testing him behind those visors. But he might have felt the distrust....D'tok did not for some reason. It was the natural feeling he got from this individual. A thought flickered, yet died the few seconds it was alive within D'tok's head, yet noted. The thought was, "Have I made the wrong choice". It swiftly was washed away with the more desperate question.

D'tok said to him, as his three platoons where going slowly into the Vault again, thier weapons still raised ready for a fight, the Civan platoon staying by enterance on guard for a time, "How did you get ambushed? Casualities?"

He was assessing in more detail what had occured, and how to beat this new found foe. It did not seem like the raiders doing...D'tok began to walk inside of the Vault and expected Skurash to follow on.

(OOC He should be able to walk, the Stimpack would work by now, but it is not pernament.)

Skurash followed D'Tok inside, grunting as he tested his leg.

"Some foul sneaking b*stards out there, worse than your raiders," he muttered. "Came dancing onto your airfield, killed one of my troopers, captured another.

I sent platoon into desert to follow, find and investigate. Then I got a radio signal, ambushed by el- by these assassins. By the time I got the copter there they were all dead, cut to ribbons. One of their snipers blew my knee to shreds. Har! Should be grateful it wasn't a railgunner, would have taken my leg off!"

He glanced over his shoulder.

"Tell your men, these enemies very sly, very deceptive."

Lionel heard what seemed to be orders being given out in a strange language and watched with interest as two formations broke off and returned to the vault.

Now how will I use this to my advantage?

Still gazing analytically at the position, Lionel knew it was pointless to attack the denizens of this realm for he does not know their allegiance. By all rights, this is a new nation and the fact that the orcs are here must denote the fact that something valuable is hidden here.

And it must not fall into their hands, Lionel determined.

I just wish I brought more warriors....

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

"Well we shall deal with these new threats soon. I shall send out a squad more suited for this from Vault 4. It will take a fair while, a day at best. In the mean time we shall remain on sentry here. How are you planning on getting the supplies and equipment here?" D'tok said with the same low grinning tone as before, as his boots clanked onto the metal interior of the Vault. The two platoons rushed back inside, back to thier barracks where they would go back and await further orders.

The last platoon remained outside, taking shifts of four men outside at any one time. This would last for around four hours, until they would return back inside.

"The airlift is already underway," Skurash replied. "Many copters are coming, bringing workers, tools, food, and warriors. We will help protect vault from the creatures outside, as well as clear out any threats in your sealed vault."

"Excellent. We will provide you with residance within the Vault for your troops should you need it. You want medical help with that leg?" D'tok asked as he continued on through the Vault.

Skurash turned to look at D'Tok searching for mockery in his tone.

"No," he snarled. Then, after a pause, "Yes, surgeon would be good. Make sure wound is clean."

He was confused by the attention being offered.

OOC: ahhh the nice quiet life in the desert :wink:

IC: Lionel watched the change of guard once again, his Elvish patience bearing him in good stead for if he was a human, he would have gone mad by now. Lionel debated within himself whether he should silence the guards but that would have amounted to hostilites with a race he had as yet to speak to.

Oh well, looks like its going to be a long night, as he chewed quietly on his bread ration.

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Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

D'tok wondered why he had changed his mind. Pride perhaps? Or not wanting to rely on us? Bah, what does it matter.

They proceeded onto a more clean and well maintained area. It held the apothecary symbol upon the walls. They entered into a long room, which held countless metal tables, some holding wounded. The technolgy was high quality, ti held stimpacks and various high tech healing apparatous. A doctor greeted D'tok, and set to work without a word. He asked about what had happened, and hearing nodded his head.

"Sit down here." the doctor said and gestured to a small stool by one of the tables. Once he had sat down, he set about healing the wound by various techniques. He cleaned the wound, and then placed a black legbrace it seemed, for a few minutes. Inside, he felt the familer warmth like the Stimpack did. A meter was upon the side of the wall, which was still at the top, but extremely slowly going down. Taking the thing off, the docotor left him with only a few words. "It is fully healed now. Just do not stress it too much for a day."


(OOC Shall we assume a day has passed? Skurash cans tay wityhin a small room if he wants. Day break shall we say? The nights are extremely cold remember... :wink: )

Lionel shivered as he pulled his camo cloak tight about him, cursing the day he joined the Imperial Army. His mind drifted back towards a more quieter time, an image of home and a wonderful pristine garden, which was surrounded by a marbled courtyard.

He ran playfully with his twin brother(Dear gods, he still had his eyes then) as they were chased by their father who was laughing as he grabbed Lionel.

And of another moment as Lionel sat down with his twin, and asked, "What do you want to be when your old enough Arethas?"

Arethas looked at him smiling in determination, "I want to be a Dragon Knight, to travel on the starships and explore new planets", he finished excitedly.

"And you? What will you be when you finally come of age?", Arethas enquired.

Knowing that he wont leave his brother's side ever, he answered, "To go where you go brother, to be what you be".

And Lionel woked up, cursing silently to himself for his laspe in concentration as he searched about alertly to see if anyone had capitalised on his mistake.

With no sign of danger, he assumed his watch. Well brother, I couldnt follow where you went, and I couldnt be as you are now. But you will never see the stars again even though you trod upon new worlds

And Lionel was suprised to feel tears flowing down his cheeks.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

(OOC Waiting for Mordorians now.)

OOC: wat time izzit over there where you are Veric? I see you are online as well with me

(3.39PM in Britain (plymouth to be exact).You?)

OOC: Victoria, australia 2.41a.m. I really should sleep ya know :wink:

OOC: Well if you're waiting for me... (and it's 4.30 here in Leeds, England btw)... Skurash is just getting his leg seen to, so the next thing will be:

IC:

The flotilla of armoured assault helicopters and transport helicopters rose like an angry thundercloud above the dunes of the desert, homing in inexorably on the coordinates provided by Skurash.

In the foremost of the attack craft, Kushrag pointed a gauntleted finger at the almost invisible landing area in the distance. The crucified raiders now caked with the inescapable dust of the desert.

"TAKE US DOWN" he yelled above the engine noise. "ALL TROOPERS FAN OUT INTO DEFENSIVE LINE."

The order was relayed across the comm system. The clan warriors took no risks in unknown territory.

The first of the copters landed and the armoured warriors spilled out of it like blood from a new wound. Kushrag at their head. The copter then took off again, circling away as the next one approached.

Kushrag removed his helmet and squinted against the dust.

"We are here!" he bellowed.

I gathered, thought one of the sargants. He noded his head and made no remark, and gestured towards the Vault. "This way. It is a long way to Vault 5. Do you want to get to work right now?" The sargant asked, expected the answer of right away. The platoon on sentry kept thier eyes upon from any enemies which would show themselves....wheter it be from the company they had now it did not matter.

(OOC T-gram will be sent)

"I will speak to your master!" roared Kushrag at the sergeant. He was surprised to see the man was not cowed.

The copters continued their landing and unloading. Perhaps sixty heavy troopers in total, divided into five platoons. The same number of unarmoured, sullen looking labourers in heavy coveralls. A number of industrial tools were being hefted and carried among the labourers.

"Bring me to your ruler," Kushrag continued. "And I wish to speak to Skurash."

The table of commanders gathered once again to discuss how best to go about this proceedor. The commander of thier allies had been summoned, whoever was in charge of the Moridians that is. It was in the same place as before, with D'tok and the others in it.

Edit: wrong profile

Lionel cursed as he noticed the flight of copters moving in the distance. He pulled his cloak tightly as the wind picked up, following the landing of several of the things. Damn, now I am seriously outnumbered, Lionel grinned, They should have brought more

He saw a huge beast of an orc leapt from the copter, and he distinctly heard its orders. Defensive line? Here in the desert? What great target practice!, but he restrained himself from giving the order to gun them down.

There are far too few elves to do this, Lionel groan in frustration.

+++++++++++++

Captain Aletain and his company of elves were at least 16 miles from the recorded signal as his unit of ninety elves moved in silent formation, eyes ever watchful for signs of ambush.

They all saw the flight of copters past over them as they rapidly dispersed and blurred into their surroundings, MPRLs taking aim and pulse rifles at the ready. When it just left them, Aletain knew that something bad was going to happen. The elves picked up the pace.

D'tok sat down where he was before, along with the other commanders of the Vaults. A fan fapped in the background, providing cool air, butit did nothing, if not increase the sense of tension. There was still distrust in the air, but the Verican people where a distrustful people. Actions spoke louder than words, but words give direction to those actions. Hence this.

The young man on his right was Ka Dareim, the young man in charge of Vault 2. He had black hair and had oddly blue eyes, a strange trait for the desert people. He wore the typical gear, but had his goggles off, and he looked at Skurash with a critical, if curious eye.

Holst was on D'tok's right, his grim elderly face holding the same discontentment about what they where going to do. They knew something of the nature of thier allies, and hethought it was unwise. But as D'tok had said, what alternative did they have? But this smelt like a debt...which may never be repaid. He kept a lock on Skurash, with his only one one eye, it looked menacing. It seemed like he seemed like he could grapple a shand shark down with only his look.

Jasmina wore her familer high tech equipment, more so than last time. She was going to be the head of the spec ops team which was going to go out into the desert to discover who those invisible attackers where. She had the familer tracker which held infomation about the area at request, and beings in the area. It was possibly the only detection device which could find invisible targets. The devices rarity was extreme, only thirty such devices existed...or where operational. She too was at unease at the situation...but again, what other choice did they have?

"Sit so that we can begin our plans." D'tok said to Skurash.

The fan blades continued to rotate in the ordinary fashion, the only sound heard within the room.

Skurash sat down and was about to say something before D'tok began with his own speach. Skurash felt slightly violated, as though he was being treating like a child. His anger began to come up, but he kept it in check and remained silent.

"Now that your supplies are here, we can now begin our plans yes? Tell me, what consists of your supplies to us? How many and what is in it, so that we can consider how best to utilise it." D'tok said slowly and deliberately.

Skurash was about to make his reply when the door opened unexpectedly, and the gigantic Kushrag entered, followed by a pair of the Vault's own guards who had escorted him there.

"I am Kushrag, war chief of the High-Stone Clan. Skurash is my underling only. You will address your words to ME!"

Skurash stood, grunting a welcome to his chief, and Kushrag took his place at the council table.

"Out of our generousity we have provided many workers, tireless and strong. Industrial cutting and clearing tools, digging equipment and breathing apparatus. Also troopers, powerful warriors without fear who will strive against your foes. All this we offer you, with friendship. Now," he went on, "tell me more about this superweapon of yours!"

D'tok looked at this new person. He considered something new. A new plan.
"Very well, I will speak to you, Kushrag. But not of the "superweapon" as you ironically refer to. That weapon is not a weapon, it is a cleansing device of life, and the method of. We used it to create this...wasteland. We considered the alternitive and we chose to force this under ourselves. To use it as a weapon would be completely immoral and senseless. One cannot reasonably capture a nation by rendering it a corpse. I will speak of that later to you, of some of the infomation about it. But now of our interests. Here is the deal. You help us, once we have been helped, we help you. Then that is it. We will grant you access to the Vapi technology, and possibly later we can make more exchanges of this kind. Is this acceptable?"

When D'tok said that he was going to give them the Vapi technology, the others looked at him in hidden shock, thier mind raced. They could not allow that to occour, the weapon was only devolped to save thier nation, not to destroy others! But D'tok had a plan, one which was extremely cunning.

Skurash's heart leapt at D'Tok's announcement and he looked sidelong at Kushrag. This great weapon at the disposal of the clan- and he, Skurash, instrumental in obtaining it. This would mean advancement, privilege.

Kushrag merely nodded.

"Give your instructions to my minions," he said, "they will comply."

Skurash's snarling grin grew broader. He sneaked a look at Jasmina to see if the female was impressed by his coup.

Jasmina did not even respond, she was still in concern for the Vapi technology. She felt a rush of cold, she looked to D'tok. Had he gone insane? If they managed to grasp this technology...they would be able to destroy other nations, those without the technology or facilities to remain protected or worse...the atmosphere would never recover! We have special machines which set about restoring the atmosphere. It is an extremely long process, only recently the air has become breathable, peforee it held practically no oxygen and was a furnace of death....

D'tok knew what he was doing. He had a plan. One which was risky, yet...if it worked, it could mean so many great things. An eye for an eye, or more the intention of...

D'tok nodded and said to"Inform them of the operation Jasmina.". Jasmina, looked hard at D'tok, askinga silent question which both of them knew. What are you planning? Have you gone mad? You know what they could do! But D'tok only gave a slight smile. Jasmina got up and reached for a button upon the wall, which made the lights dim and die out.

Pressing another button, a holographic light flickered into life, granting a view of a hugely complex map. It had entitled upon the top Vault 1. The scale was asbolutely enormous, it was absoltuely massive. It was the underground view of the Vault 1, it spanned around showing the underground parts of the upper part of the Vault. Truelly, the Vault housed millions, it was like a labyrinth.

"Here we are, within Vault 1. Now our destination is Vault 5. When the Vaults where being built, the war was still raging, so each megacity had to reply upon thier own resources to construct it and stock it. We would have shared our resources, but many supply lines where cut off by thier forces. We held communcation and it seemed as though if we did not activate the Vapi device, we would have too few people. One of the most beseiged regions was where Vault 5 lies for it's regional importance...so thier interconecting tunnels with the other Vaults where left incomplete. The vapi bombs where activated, and we recovered slowly, each Vault in conncetion and eventual contact with the other Vaults. But without vault 5, we could never start the true re habilitation methods, without thier machines and technology we are doomed to remain a underground people in essance for the next estinmated five decades. So you undertstand the importance of this mission."

The map panned out, revealing the other Vaults. They where smaller in size, and one could see large tunnels interconnecting between all of them.
Skurash and Kushrag ntoed large dome like structures which would seem to hold a we superweapon. there was one within each Vault.

"Now, a tunnel was begun within Vault 3. Ka Dariem, if you would explain further." Jasimina said and sat back down. Dariem got up and looked at the map once more. He indicated towards a unfinshed tunnel between Vault 3 and where Vault 5 should be. They ahd the original documents for Vault 5 so thier building would be in the right place.

"We did begin the tunneling process, but we ran out of resources and lacked the equipment to proceed. Which of course, is where you come in, You will go with some of our crews and drill through. Once we have reached the metal door which was built for the purpose of the tunnel, we will sent in an elite squadron to investiagte in. We do not know what is in there, no one might be there, it might be teeming with survivors, or it might have been taken over by bandits. Or worse.Once we have gotten in, if we encounter any heavy resistance, we will drive a hard campaign, one which will be extremely difficult considering the possibly fighting conditions. Is this agreeable?" He finished waiting for thier answer.

"Agreeable?" bellowed Kushrag, laughing harshly, "it is not only agreeable it is to be desired! My warriors will purge your deeps of these vermin, whatsoever they be! For the allies of my clan, no sacrifice is too great."

He gestured to Skurash.

"Go to the surface, take control of the warriors. Prepare them for war!"

Then to D'Tok again (ignoring the 'underlings') "My workers will serve your word. Use them without delay. I hunger for battle."

"Agreed. We will begin shortly. Allow me to speak to my fellow commanders, and I will join you." D'tok said to him and waited for him to leave. Once he had left, a silence hung over the room, apart from the regular fapping of the fan.

And then Holst spoke out. He got up and began slowly and filled with outrage, "What have you done? You know full well that we cannot allow that to occour! Think what they will do with it!" Holst was obviosuly distressed, getting angry. D'tok remained calm. The others soon added thier protests to his.

D'tok raised a gloved hand to silence them. "Remain calm, I have all of this in thought. I know full well of what you are concerned of. But...I have it all in mind. For listen to me. I have a plan. Let me explain..."

And so D'tok explained...and thier fears where banished. Some of them questions the morality of it...D'tok soon set them to ease. He argued, that it was only justice if they did. They agreed, seeing it as a genuis plan, one which was great in it's concept.

(OOC I will think of plans tomorrow, I need sleep)

OOC: Meh, I am just enjoying reading the posts. I myself have runned out of ideas to even continue this, so I will wait for an opening. And of course the arrival of my elves. :wink: Till then, keep posting folks.

OOC: Veric, I hope you had a nice sleep! My forces are at your disposal now so please arrange them according to the work schedule you have in mind. I imagine the workers will go in first to drill, and cut and clear; with warriors close behind. Skurash will be going in with the troops, leading them. Kushrag wants to stay nearer the surface until he is sure glorious battle awaits. He's also nervous about contact from outside and will insist decent guards are kept against the elve--- er--- the creatures in the desert. Otherwise, like the Elvarin, my guys are waiting for developments...

Fire, fire everywhere! There was the smell of burning flesh and a sense of pure utter rage. Lionel and his company had found his brother....

"I've got you now my brother! I am so sorry!", Lionel weeped as he cradled the tortured form of Arethas, his hollowed empty eye sockets staring back at him.

"I knew you would come. I could feel you", he croaked weakly as he clutched Lionel's hands.

"Its alright now, these worthless creatures will harm you no more", Lionel whispered as he bandaged his brother's mutilated eyes.

"Company!", Lionel stood up and roared in fury, "Kill every living thing in this camp! None are to leave here alive!!"

"Brother no...", Arethas protested weakly.

A vision of nightmares, of blood and death, as Lionel rampaged through the camp, slaying anyone within his reach. None were spared...

Lionel sat bolt upright, sweat pouring down his eyes as another of his elves changed watch, signaling to him that movement was spotted coming in from the west. Elves, was the clear signal.

Shaking his head clear of the nightmares, Lionel nodded and gave a weak smile in return. He signaled, Go and meet them. Bring them here

And with that, Lionel laid down once again and tried to forget the horrible hammering of memories better left forgotten.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

>>bump<<

(OOC My apologies. I have been having GCSE mocks recerntly, so Nationstates has had a back seat. And also, I have been writing a lot on other projects, when it comes down to it, when you are getting paid for a piece of writing, it kind of gets prioity! :D I will try to get this plot along.)

The drilling had begun. The masssive drilling equipment of the Moridians decimated the ground in a satisfying grinding fashion. Teams set up steel girders to keep it stable, soldiers where kept on standby. There would be a steel door...then they would open that and see what was in.

The process would take three days of sweat and hard work. Of course, the Verican worked harder than they ever had. For this to them, was the oppertunity to repopulate the surface, and possibly find people still surviving. For the Moridians, this meant a new super weapon at the end, which would mean even more power to their nation and ruler. They would be praised and promoted for this!

Of course...there was another nation's forces at work here, and they had three days to work at thier plan.

(OOC Ok, Elvarin, if you want to do something during this time, get men, scount communicate, sabotage, or whatever do it now. Tell me what day you are doing it on, you have three NS days until the miners get through. Of course, you can still interact with us once after this, it is just so you can do anything you want in the meantime.

OOC: I am not a huge fan of 'storming the fort with our fleshy bodies' :wink: tactic so yea, i am kinda stumped. So day 1.

IC: Lionel felt a vibration in the earth, and turned to his fellow officers as they were also unclear as to what it means. But they all intended to find out.

"What are your orders Lord Colonel?", a lieutenant requested.

"We shall use our advantage of stealth to infiltrate that facility in squads. Its a night ops, and our weapons are not to fire upon any of the 'natives' unless fired upon. Your weapons are free to fire on the orcs".

The officers grinned in anticipation of such action, Orcs...the hated foe

"Lets move", Lionel ordered.

++++++++++++++++++++

Under the cover of darkness, the entire first company crept closer to the vault, deftly avoiding any stray orcs in the dark. They gazed about looking for any entry other than by the main door.

OOC: Hey Veric, can u give me a detailed description of the area around the vault and the entrance way? I dont want to have to go with "I have found a secret hole that lead to you" sort of crap. It would be impolite :wink: if i did tht...

(OOC I am sorry! I made a decent post but the forum swallowed it! I did it yesterday...Going to try and make it again, but it won't be that good in comparison to what I had... :( )

The underground of the desert had heard no noise for the last eight decades. No creature, no plant was within it, it was barren and devoid of life, all it was compacted sand. But now...a horrendous racket of drilling was heard and felt vibrating through it. The drilling had begun.

The drilling proceeder was a ardous one. The crews has to work day and night to keep the tunnels they had constructed up, men scambling all around constantly. The massive drilling equipment continued to devour the sand effortlessly, creating a extremely loud grating noise. Everyone had to wear ear portectors against the constant drone of the machine. Almost everyone could feel the vibrations even with the shcok absorbers which where all around the lumbering machine.

The Moridians settled in well into this enviorment, although there was no love between the two people. They just where extremely formal, and some animosities arose. But each commander kept them in check, and the job was commited with 100% effort. Each people had thier own reasons. For the Vericans, this was freedom, this was the hope they had been waiting for. This Vault meant repopulation of the surface, thier homes would be restored....But for the Moridians, this was promotion, glory, and most importantly....that weapon...

---

Upon the surface of the desert, the burning orb which beat down any life with merciless infernace, was gone, replaced with it's twin brother, so different yet bringing the same hardship. The pale white unblinking eye glared it's unholy stare at the Elvarin, the bitter cold which embraced the deserts cloudless purple sky.

But it also came down upon others this night, as the Elvarin discovered. They where on thier scouting mission, trying to find an alternative to the looming door which held the Varicians, and those deadly guns. There was no alternative enterance, it was a sealed below desert loving, smothering hold. But, just as the group was about to give up and go back to their base of operations, they heard voices....

"Damn it! Shit man, Bane is gunna flip! He is gunna have our f----- heads! Our fucking heads! You even know what this means? You acting so cool and calm when our entire f-----' home is gunna get screwed and Bane don't even f-----' know! Shit man, this freind o' yours was meant to be here an hour ago!" a young male voice complained, almost histerical. He was obviously pacing around in anger.

The elvarin inspected, stealthly, unnoticed by these two men. The younger one was dressed in rags pretty much, he had a shoddy lasgun slung around on his back. He looked extremely disressed, and was pacing around complaining to his older, black freind.

"Shut the fuck up. You want the entire desert to hear? We aint got no other choice. We are gunna sit here until Yerit turns up. This shit is bigger than us. It means the gang. You wanna fail the gang?" the black man said calmly, sitting on a box. He waited a moment, the young man paused in his pacing. He looked at him, not saying a thing.

"No? Then sit the fuck down and keep it quiet. We gotta wait, we got no other choice. We gotta tell Bane, and the only way we can do that is through that transport that Yerit is bringin. Don't think I aint gunna give him hell for this."

That seemed to satisfy the younger one. The black personw as obviously the samrter of the two, and of higher status. He had a more advanced weapon and some metal armour around his body. They where obviously raiders, they where in a small camp, with a fire licking the air feebly in the cold wind. The younger man could be seen shivering, he had his gun slung around his back. The black man was more alert, he had his gun armed and ready to shoot, he cradled it.

Skurash made sure he kept an eye on the workers, idle worms they could be if not kept in line. His presence, and that of the other troopers, ensured that no one slacked off.

The deafening noise, the flying sparks, the choking and blinding clouds of dust and debris made the worksite very much like hell.

Skurash loved it. He also relished each opportunity to discipline the imported workers and even his own troopers when they stepped out of line. Mordorian rule was brutal and harsh, and he enjoyed seeing the revulsion hidden behind the eyes of the locals when they witnessed a flogging.

There was tension between the locals and the newcomers, but that was to be expected, perhaps even encouraged. Knowing how to squeeze a situation until it screamed was drummed into the Mordorian officers. Under pressure people react in predictable ways.

Still, with little to do other than keep an eye on the workforce, Skurash was getting irritated. He wished there was an approachable female or two around... Perhaps if he stumbled across that Jasmina woman in a deserted corridor he could teach her something about his people that she wouldn't soon forget.

His sly sneering grin was not pretty to look upon.

OOC: hmmm interesting developements..

IC: The squad members looked to each other and their sergeant signaled an elf to move off and get the command squad here immediately. The squad waited tensely and was suprised at the hidden form materialising from the darkness before them followed closely by the squad. Such skill even in an elf was astonishing.

What do we have here?, he signaled to the sergeant.

You should listen to what they are talking about, and he pointed to the two humans.

Pirates! What are they doing here, Lionel was puzzled.

They seem to be waiting for someone sire

I think we should join them as well, and he winked at the sergeant. He continued, Get the rest of the company. This situation might call for more warriors.

With that, the sergeant and his squad departed to gather the rest of the company.

Turning back to watch his quarry, Lionel smiled, Lets see what these humans have to offer.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

"What do ya suppose they are doin' then? Drillin' and all." the younger man said, who was sat down himself, shivering slightly.

The black man simply replied in a low voice, "O' course you fool. They are gunna take what was thiers." Before the younger one could reply, the black man continued.

"They are going to attack, and they are not going to know. It is going to be a slaughter. That is why this shit is so important Geri. You understand me? We have gotta get back to the Den to tell them, so keep your guard up. The Den is counting on us. The Gang is counting on us. This is way above us. We must not fail."

The younger man simply nodded. He drew his weapons and became more alert. Obviously, neither could have possibly seen the elves here.

(OOC The veicle is not going to come for a while, I am not saying when. Are you going to wait until the veicle comes?)

OOC: yup, I intend to, it is quite interestin this...

IC: Kill them now, a voice hissed in his mind. Lionel blinked.

They are the accursed ones, and he saw an image of them standing over his brother, their tools poised to take out his eyes.

Lionel blinked again and all was well once more. He was suprised to feel his LSCK drawn in his hand. He looked about himself to see if anyone of his elves noticed. He comes again, and Lionel quailed within.

I will not be conquered!, he quivered in fear struggling to comprehend the reason why it has returned. Not since that night...

Shaking his head clear, he signaled to his elves to take position around the area to notify him of the arrival of the vehicle. Must keep myself busy

Lionel looked at his hands and saw them shaking uncontrollably, still clutching his LSCK. I will not be conquered, but a reflection caught his eye from his knife and he gazed down into it. He saw a fallen one, a Dark Elf gazing back at him.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

Two hours passed. The two did not talk too much. It could be seen that the younger one was becoming anxious, but the black man remained calm and his face was grizzled. He was built like a small tank, he had a large machine gun slung around himself, along with his light armour. The younger one only had a bolt action laser weapon, and did not seem as though he was well trained.

And then...a rumble. It was the sound of tracks. The two looked to the west, which was where the Elvarin where positioned!

It was a half track as the Evlarin looked on to this machine. It was open topped, and it had a machine gun mounted at the back which a middle aged raider was mounted upon, his goggles making him appear like an engineer. It was a ramshackled veicle, and one could see through the black hazed window of the front that there was a driver who had blue hair, not much else could be seen.

The half track was going full speed, and it appeared as though it had just been in a fight, or had been in many in the past. It was riddled with bullet holes, and the Elvarin could see if they had night vision that it had recently been repaired.

The half track was charging straight for the Elvarin, although they did not know they where there....yet. Soon they would go straight on top of them if they did not move!

OOC: But my elves are shattered around the two men.....so lets say a squad was in the way. Lionel's squad. Ten warriors total. Though six now since four died earlier...

IC: Lionel turned to see what was the commotion about and was promptly baffeled at the sight bearing down on him. Signaling quickly to his elves to disperse from its path, they scattered, relying on the cover of darkness and their camo cloak to mask their movement.

MPRLs were aimed at the vehicle and pulse rifles were brought to bear on the two luckless humans. Should anything untowards happened, they were going to receive a nasty surprise.

But Lionel signaled to his warriors to hold ther fire as the vehicle drove past his position, thanking the Emperor that his career didnt ended under its tracks.

Catching sight of the vehicle once again, the entire company prepared themselves for anything, whether to follow it or destroy it. Though Lionel preferred the former. This 'den' sound like one of those vaults. Lets see where it leads to....

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

The half-track halted by the two raiders, still rumbling as the engine was left on. The gunner remained looking out for targets, he was not taking any chances after what had just happened.

"Took you frelling time!" the white man said to the driver angrily.

The driver got out, putting a boot down upon the sand. He seemed tierd, and as though he had gone through a lot recently.

"You can shut the hell up, we had some trouble on the way as you can see. Some of the those bastards atta-" the dirver was cut short by the black man getting onto the back of the viecle as he bellowed.

"It can wait! Get us back to Den! NOW!" The black man ordered. The driver was rather taken aback by this outburst, he was expecting him to be displeased but this was out of order. They had just been attacked and gotten out by the skin of thier teeth, made repairs on the veicle, and now they came back to an ungrateful two men!

"Now listen here Tire-" the driver began not getting into the viecle. The younger one shook his head and got in the other side of the viecle, protected, while they argued.

"Listen!We aint got time, the entire Den is in some serious shit! If we do not get to Bane, the entire Den will be destroyed! Destroyed! Get us back now!"

That did the trick. The driver asked no further questions. He quickly got into the driver seat and slammed the door in haste. He was about to put his foot to the pedal...

(OOC make a move during these events if you want, or just now. Tell me when you are attacking or whatever.)

Gunfire echoed through the metal corridors of the training arena. "Ivos!" a female soldier spoke through the comms which the reast of the squad had.

Three soldiers stormed into the next passage. Another round of firing at the targets provided, dummies which pooped out of the floor or a window, the laser fire piercing the dummies easily, the hellguns giving off the warcry as they spweed forth the red bolts of energy. "Ivos!" the same woman cried as they moved on.

The elite squadron had been training in these corridors which where in the same layout as Vault 5. A mock up of the operation had been planned, each soldier knew what to do. The elites where going to expect anything. The alien scourge, raiders, mutants, no-one, anything. They were ready.

Jasmina had watched her troops go through the course as she had done the first time. They where flawless she though, a feeling of innate pride filled her seeing her trained troops who she had fought alongside so many times, seen them save her life countless times as she had saved thiers. They where battle brethern.

Each elite soldier wore a special battle-suit. It was the carpace which the commanders wore, only fully covering the soldiers. The goggles where similer to the desert goggles, only they had detection devices within them. They also wore gas masks against any gas attacks which the enemy might use, and protection against thier own gas attacks. They has slightly modified lasguns, they could fire in bursts of three, and had a far larger ammo capacity. Jasmina had a hellrifle, an advanced laser weapon. It was a machine gun in essance, extremely accurate and with a 4X zoom, and grenade launcher built in. There where men with grenade launchers, each soldier had a sidearm of a lasgun.

(Picture of an elite, with a lasgun)

http://gamesradar.msn.co.uk/media/gamesradar/killzone2004jan_01.jpg

(Picture of a lasgun)

http://gamesradar.msn.co.uk/media/gamesradar/killzone2004jan_10.jpg

(picture of hellgun + apart)

http://gamesradar.msn.co.uk/media/gamesradar/killzone2004jan_14.jpghttp://gamesradar.msn.co.uk/media/gamesradar/killzone2004jan_13.jpg

(grenade launcher, it has a flame thrower inside too. Not many are in circulation however)

http://gamesradar.msn.co.uk/media/gamesradar/killzone2004jan_17.jpg

Lionel cursed as he heard the engine starting back up again. He whispered into his comm bead, "Third squad, follow and track that metal beast. The company will follow in an hours time. No hostile action to be taken till we arrive, got that?"

"Affirmative", was the reply.

Turning to his elves he smiled as he whispered, "Its time for dinner, while we wait, my kin"

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

The track rumbled through the desert, a great breath of sand belched from behind it. It went as fast as it could, due to the urgancy of thier journey. As soon as they had head out, the other two were informed...well all that the brute gunner could understand was "Den, danger if we no get there. Drill attack." It was enough, and he kept his large rather stupid looking eyes poised out for any other would be attackers, bearing that machine gun at anywhere he thought a bandit would pop out.

They carried on for around 3 hours, the first glimmer of the brilliant scorching desert sun coming from it's slumber, it's own pearl twin going back to it's own slumber.

The tracks were easy to follow if the group kept close. But...they were not. Following such a viecle in the desert was extremely difficult due to the winds brining another sheet of sand about the tracks within minutes. Even the most experianced tracker would have difficulty locating a tank's tracks on foot, let alone a speeding track! Unless of course, technology was employed....

(OOC I have a few ideas of my own should you have trouble tracking them. Do not worry, it will not be impossible if you have trackers and such. But if you do not...well hard luck. The tracks will begin to fade about an hour into the tracking, but you could guess where they are going. The tracks are straight east (making allowances for dunes and such, but you would ahve worked out their destination))

OOC: Hi all, I'm still around but the lovely FM troops are just working away as described in my last post! Keep up the good work.

(OOC Your leader could interact with Jasmina, that is why I posted the training part. Your leader would be interested in what troops he would be dealing with yes? And also, try and find out more infomation on the Vapi bomb? It is the reason why I added the training part with Jasmina in :) That is of course, if you want to.)

The squad of elves moved quickly across the desert, following closely behind it though they were careful to stay out of sight. When the vehicle disappeared, they relied on the tracks. But when the tracks disappeared, they relied on their legendary hearing and ran to catch up to it as it slowed down to climb one of the numerous dunes in the desert.

They will not fail their Colonel. but one thing was certain. The vehicle maintained its direction. East...

OOC: Splendid idea! I shall post later!

(Ah that is clever, I did not think of your hearing :) )

The joureny of the trak continued for another three hours. Indeed this would be long for infantry to transverce, let alone an army one of the elves thought in a thought of a war being nessicery.

(Bearing in mind that a trak will be far faster than infantry, and that it is going at full speed, only stopping once for a nessicery refuel from the fuel stored on the trak and a repair (10 minutes tops), your people will be pretty far behind in this. An hour? Two hours? You decide.)

The trak slowed down, and a sigh of relief was breathed by everyone. The black man leapt off the trak and ran straight forward to the enterance before him, a sight had he had not seen it before, would have impressed and filled him with fear.

It was exactly the same layout as the other Vault enterances...but it was grotesque in the differences. There where crucifixes lining the area with corpses on...few were alive. Few did live for a day in this heat and the wind ravaging naked flesh....

The great metal door had graffiti upon it, great displays of gangs. But in the center was a great red skull, with flames for eyes. Below it, there was written the large bold defiant word-

BANE


The guards were placed upon the top of the sentries. The laser weapons were replaced by heavy machine guns which looked just as fierce. It had large brutes manning them. It was seen that these people had adapted well to desert life, becoming like ogres. Most wore heavy metal plates which looked like it could come off a building or scraps of tanks. Nearly all were incredibly stupid, loyal soldiers to Bane. But some...had normal intellgence...some with genius intellects.

Some like Bane.

The great door which had numerous spikes upon, was rolled up....and so entered the trak to the armoury....

OOC: We are elves, anything is possible :wink: Kidding, but i think that a half-track would have difficulty in the desert considering that the desert aint flat and going full speed is a nice reckless way to get yourself killed. Though since you say they were stupid....no problems then :D

IC: The elves struggled to maintain within spotting distance though it was very difficult to do so. Though by now they knew were it was heading, the elves occasionally paused for breath and drank their precious supplies of water.

They finally crested a dune, keeping low as their training dictated. They were met by a sight of a vault.....that was distorted and seemed corrupted. Gazing at the other elves, their sergeant smiled.

"Lord Colonel", he spoke into his comm, "We have found our objective"

OOC: We are elves, anything is possible :wink: Kidding, but i think that a half-track would have difficulty in the desert considering that the desert aint flat and going full speed is a nice reckless way to get yourself killed. Though since you say they were stupid....no problems then :D

IC: The elves struggled to maintain within spotting distance though it was very difficult to do so. Though by now they knew were it was heading, the elves occasionally paused for breath and drank their precious supplies of water.

They finally crested a dune, keeping low as their training dictated. They were met by a sight of a vault.....that was distorted and seemed corrupted. Gazing at the other elves, their sergeant smiled.

"Lord Colonel", he spoke into his comm, "We have found our objective"

(OOC I am not saying that the half-trak is an effective veicle for desert life. It is effective enough though. Ever wonder why the viecle was so late to pick them up? The attack held them up, but they are inefficant veicles, needing a lot of repairs. They are meant for raids and such, quick attacks- but there are things you do not know about the structure of the raider attacks. :wink: And plus, think of Black Hawk Down with the crummy veicles that the enemies (I forget thier name) used, same style. Cheap, unreliable, typical bodge jobs. But enough of that.)


The cool metal room of the Den as it was lovingly refered by the numerous gangs, held the leader of all the gangs. A hulking man, who upon first glance seemed brutish, like a thug. In many ways this was true. The man, if such a word could describe him, could fight along the best of them, having received a machine-gun unclip on him and he would continue to fight on, roaring with rage. But within that head of his, was a mind of a remarkable strategist. Few knew his age, none knew were he came from. Many believed that he had come from hell to lead them, he walked from the desert to the Den to unite the leaders. Ever since that time, they had become a organised terrorist machine. Their aim?

To reclaim what was rightfully thiers. The other Vaults.

Bane was considering his next attack upon Vault 4, which according to some of his intellegence was having power failures, when a black, panting man burst through his door.

The hulking being did not turn around, his presance dominating over the relatively large sized man- at least for a human.

"Lord Bane, I have urgant news!"

A moments silence as Bane considered it. He gritted his teeth, many of which were metal, which caused a ear-torturing scrape. The black man endured...but he never could get used to it.

"Speak." Bane said in a long slow, impossibly deep voice. It was deeper than any voice could ever be.

The black man spoke, and told him of the events. Bane remained still, not turning his armoured back. At the end, the black man asked-

"Your orders Bane?"

Bane remained silent for a time. Then turned his hulking body around, and his face was smiling an evil grin of contempt, for now was the time were they could win.

"Gather the men. For today, we prepare for the final victory! WAR! WAR! WAR!" Bane bellowed, everyone heard his warcry, it was impossible not to. His deep hellish voice tranversed through metal, flesh and air and it reached every ear. The entire den responded with whoops and cheers, and celebratory firing of guns.

(A "normal" ogre)

http://www.rpgfrance.net/~frenchvault/images/super-mutant.jpg

(Bane :shock: Sorry for pic size!)

http://www.rpgfrance.net/~frenchvault/images/supermutant_art.jpg

The squad heard a faint raucous but they definitely heard the word 'war', echoing out of the vault.

The elves looked amongst one another and smiled. War....they thirst for it. They all blinked and shooked their heads, the faint thought disappearing until they was suprised by a form slithering next to them.

Whats the situation?, Lionel signaled to the sergeant.

Vehicle went through the vault. Huge humans. Nice target though, was the offhand reply.

Lionel winked, Tis would be easy, he signaled, At least they arent those that we seek here to make contact

He whispered into his comm bead, "First company, we are to move in by squads when night falls. You are cleared to fire when spotted. Rest easy now". And with that he laid down and shutted his eyes as the elven squad took first watch to guard against foes.

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

A sudden harsh voice startled Jasmina as she contemplated her soldiers' performance.

"Your warriors do well," Skurash grunted, looming out of the darkness unexpectedly. "and you lead them well. It is strange for a woman to fight."

He ignored her expression and continued.

"You should seek a strong man to lead you, then your troops would be even better."

Jasmina indeed did give Skurash a look of disgust, firstly at the insult of the referal of "men" as her soldiers. Many warriors were females in the desert, every soldier was needed. In fact, the women were sometimes more merciless than the men. It was insult indeed...

"Firstly, you assume that my soldiers to be men. Many are not. And secondly, what makes you so certain that you men are tougher? For all I see, you have more weak points than women." Jasmina said slowly, and with obvious conviction.

And there Jasmina was close to him, pointing a pistol centermeters away from his crotch. Indeed, she had it bearing upon him the entire time, the blue laser sight had been pointed there. It came from a small compact laser weapon of some sort, a type he had never seen before. From any guess, it was well enough to destroy his manhood.

Jasmina smiled a little, as if to say, "Try me."

(Her in her flak jacket equipment, like the desert soldiers only a more sophisitcated version, with some civi clothes. She does lead the most advanced tech Vault, she will have better equipment, and so will her troops. :) I am still thinking how the Den will size up against the army...this will be extremely interesting :D )

http://ewancient.lysator.liu.se/pic/zone/d/c/dclee/efeyes7.jpg

Vehicle went through the vault. Huge humans. Nice target though, was the offhand reply.

Lionel winked, Tis would be easy, he signaled, At least they arent those that we seek here to make contact

He whispered into his comm bead, "First company, we are to move in by squads when night falls. You are cleared to fire when spotted. Rest easy now". And with that he laid down and shutted his eyes as the elven squad took first watch to guard against foes.



(OOC But DO you know those are not the people that contacted you? It might be a possiblity...Also, make your move during night. There are three machine gunners, so that makes six on the turrets (on on ammunition). Two are ogres, four are humans, one ogre which is on a gun, the other with hopper duty. You could get a headshot of them, but it would have to be dark and you to be stealthily out out to shoot. But of course, pissing off the entire Den is not going to do well for your soldiers life-span is it?)

OOC: NS forums are so dang buggy! It's taken me about 15 minutes just to get to the point where I can post! Mutter, grumble.

IC:

Skurash snorted in anger at Jasmina's response to his overtures. And now the female was threatening him.

"You know how to fight, that is good," he snarled, "but you are foolish to think that makes you a warrior. Women who fight are useful to defend lairs, but when it comes to roaming, raiding, it is the males who must do the red work. You will learn this when you are chosen by a mate."

He paused to look her up and down slowly, his interest obvious.

"These games will cease when our people and yours unite."

OOC: by the way, I like the graphics!

(OOC But DO you know those are not the people that contacted you? It might be a possiblity...Also, make your move during night. There are three machine gunners, so that makes six on the turrets (on on ammunition). Two are ogres, four are humans, one ogre which is on a gun, the other with hopper duty. You could get a headshot of them, but it would have to be dark and you to be stealthily out out to shoot. But of course, pissing off the entire Den is not going to do well for your soldiers life-span is it?)

OOC: Well for one thing, remember in earlier pages when i wrote, "tracing the signal to a point". And I think even elves can tell the difference between huge human looking ogres(you have a rather large picture of them) and the other humans that they encountered in the first vault. But the main thing is this, is the last sentence a dare? :wink: I love dares.......

Oh and i cant actually think of anything now cause I just got back from the pub. Maybe next time when I am thinkin clearly.....

(OOC Good point Evarin about the tracking. I thought of that, but was not sure. It might be a dare.... :D Apologies for the size of the picture, is there any way to resize the pictures, they are great (I think they are anyway) but the size can be a bitch? You go and recover from your pub experiance, while I deal with the BS in my life, not good stuff. Ah well, time for a post.)

"Think what you want" Jasmina said, pulling her gun away into its holster. "When we go in, and there are enemies, you will see some real fighting. You best keep your men in shape hmmm? Wouldn't want them to be outdone by a woman." Jasmina said wryly, and walked off slowly, he form moving with grace. The excercised continued down below....


(OOC Just trying to get your warriors fighting as hard as they can eh? You might want to make a speech to you warriors concerning the women fighting eh? Might boost the will to fight. Just thoughts.)

The second day

The drilling continues on with the drill's hungry gnashing of metal teeth, the entire Vault continued to vibrate. Spirits were high, even though the recent new people were rather a shock to the social system. Talk between the two forces was spoken, about the surface....about the Moridian home.

Jax'te (JACKS- EE, like Jackie. Silent t) crouched aiming his pistol at the target. He closed his left eye, looking through the scope keeping his youthful hands steady. The bullet hung it it's nest quivering with antipacion of it's glorious final flight. His finger squeezed the trigger....

The bullet flew towards the aim true, almost hitting the bullseye dead on. Jak cursed. That gave his opponant change to catch up on his score.

"Damn it. Your shot, lets see if you cannot beat me on the scores eh?" Jax said freindily to his Moridian aqantance. He wore the normal desert garb on, his was a mear private youth, barely 22. In his hand was a normal lasgun, which his opponant had as they had agreed to use. That way, they had to rely on skill than weapon superiority. Next round they would use the Moridian pistol, that way it would be fair.

They had been in contest for a little while, the point of the challenge was to get the most accurate shots. LIke a archery contest, this one was between two breif aqquantances. They had talked for a little while, exchanging ideas and experiances before a little freindly dispute took place.

Jax looked rather young, and still had something of a sense of humor unlike most of his freinds. He was energetic and had fought in a few battles before. The two different people had met when they were walking by, and they had just chatted to each other. Jax was from Vault 2 himself, sent over recently to fill in for a missing position. He had black hair, and a warm welcoming smile. He indeed was strange unmongst his people, he was seen as a strange person indeed, with few people who understood him. With these new people, he wanted to learn more about them, being a writer in his spare time, not that society really had a use for them, unless it was for the military.

(OOC Just stick an ordinary soldier of yours in, try and work with it. Do whatever you want with it, just play along with it, just something interesting to introduce for you and me. :) Assume things, but not too drastic :) Have fun.)

Grakshash grunted with displeasure as he lifted the lasgun.

"Your weapons are too small, no good for a warrior." he grumbled. "In a battle you want a gun you can smash into a foe if things get close up."

However, he could not refuse a contest. Grakshash enjoyed being skillful in an army of thugs. He practised a lot, but these new weapons were difficult to adapt to.

Grak sighted on the target and fired three measured shots. The results were good... but not as good as he wanted.

"Useless," he snarled. "When we use the Mordorian guns you will see how good a real warrior's weapon can be. The range is poor, but they will take a foe's head clean off him. You shoot well though, perhaps there will be a chance for us to fight side by side."

The burly young Mordorian put the borrowed pistol to one side.

"What foes do we face when the rocksmashers are done? What is in this vault?" There was not a hint of nervousness in Grak's voice. Jax knew that this was a straightforward enquiry. Professional interest in who he would soon be called upon to slay.

Jax listened and watched the pulses fly towards the target. He was still winning. The challenge was almost over.

Jax chuckled at the point about smashing someones face in. He smoothed his black hair with a gloved hand. He took out his weapon again and aimed, and began to answer his question.

"Well...no-one really knows. Could be anything. But word is going round that it is raiders. Personally I do not think that something that big could remain secret from the raiders you know what I mean? But there is word that aliens have taken over it, perhaps they survived the Vapi bombs. They might be inside there still...waiting. Of course command hushed that one right up. No one would want that one coming out!"

Jax fired his last bolts of laser fire into the target, a satisfying high pitched whine of the shot filled the area.

"Your shot. If it is going to be raiders, it should be easy...but if they are organised that is another thing. They have always attacked in hit and run, and mostly they run before they hit you know?"

"Vapi bombs," Grak mumbled. "that's why we're here isn't it. A powerful weapon. Better even than our heavy pistols huh?"

He snarled at the target in the distance.

"And as for aliens, or monsters or whatever. Captain Skurash always tells us to be the worst thing out there- make sure the monsters dread us more than we dread them. That way we win before the battle comes."

"Vapi bombs?" Jax said lightly in questioning, but said nothing more of it. He held those questions inside of him, because they might be insulting or bring about....frighting answers.

"An interesting tactic. While it's true that that fear can be a great ally, one has to mkae sure that the fear is constantly in place. We have no qualms with using such tactics, as long as the enemies are such degenerate bastards such as those bandits. Those crucifixes deter bandits from attacking us again....Now. Let us try one of your weapons yes?"

Grak handed over his pistol with an air of pride in the workmanship of his people.

"This is the standard sidearm of our warriors, fire hollow point high caliber bullet. Solid construction, easy reload. What's it called? Heavy Pistol."

The Former Mordorians did not waste much imagination in the naming of their equipment.

"Single shot or rapid fire selector." Grak instructed Jax. "Safety catch here, in case of cowardice. Har har. Point away from body and fire. Doddle."

A lone traveler walked silently through the desert with his animal, a kulas (a type of donkey that is a cross between a mule and a tapir). His name was Taqwa, which meant in his ancient language of Chokaboska, "The Price of Freedom." Exiled from his village for slaying a man, Taqwa had been sent into the endless desert to die...

With his trusty kulas, Taqwa had taken with him from the village some supplies and some weapons and left to go into the desert...

But due to some twisted fate, Taqwa had survived, but to face what? Taqwa feklt angry at the gods for giving him such a damning life.

Why can't I just die!?! Living in this desert is a worse torture than anything... Why!?! Why!?!

Taqwa fell asleep lamenting his fate. When he woke up the next morning, Taqwa realized that it was his birthday. He was now twenty-five, having spent almost six years in the desert. With this realization came resolve. Taqwa resolved to survive and escape this desert...

As he staggered up, he saw a glint of metal to the north. Excited, Taqwa whipped up his kulas and began to sprint, filled with new hope...

(OOC Tread carefully here. I know what you are trying to do, but the Den is not exactly the warmest of places (although something EXTREMELY interesting could occour! I am not going to say what, but do not rule out going to the Den by mistake. Something very interesting could occour, something I did not think of before) and the Vault is going to be very defensive, well both are. Just do it in the right way. I am sure you can :) )

(OOC Tread carefully here. I know what you are trying to do, but the Den is not exactly the warmest of places (although something EXTREMELY interesting could occour! I am not going to say what, but do not rule out going to the Den by mistake. Something very interesting could occour, something I did not think of before) and the Vault is going to be very defensive, well both are. Just do it in the right way. I am sure you can :) )

(OOC: Sure thing Kain/Veric)

(OOC Call me Kain. I prefer it, because it is one of my favorite names. :) )

(OOC Call me Kain. I prefer it, because it is one of my favorite names. :) )

OOC: :roll: , sure...

Grak handed over his pistol with an air of pride in the workmanship of his people.

"This is the standard sidearm of our warriors, fire hollow point high caliber bullet. Solid construction, easy reload. What's it called? Heavy Pistol."

The Former Mordorians did not waste much imagination in the naming of their equipment.

"Single shot or rapid fire selector." Grak instructed Jax. "Safety catch here, in case of cowardice. Har har. Point away from body and fire. Doddle."

Jax looked at the weapon with the eye of fascination. Sure it was a ugly weapon...bulky yet practical. Jax gripped onto it and got used to it's weight. He smiled at the modest joke of his.

Jax clicked the safety catch and aimed at the target slowly. He aimed carefully, and squeezed. The bullet rocket out of the chamber, the angry hornet was slightly inaccurate due to Jax's inexperiance with the weapon, only barely hitting the outer ring of the target, yet the hole was considerably larger in the target.

deleted, reason irrelevant to other posts...

(Urm, this is inside one of the vaults, sorry bout that. Inside one of the training facilities)

Bump!

In the darkness, elves crept forward in silent stealth, nearly a hundred pulse rifles aimed at at target, each step bringing them closer to the vault.

I do hope I know what I am doing, Lionel prayed in silent, though a throbbing in the back of his head was weakening his focus. What is going on?, he clutched his head for a moment before his vision was cleared once more.

He gazed back up and glance around for signs of his warriors. He smiled proudly as his men were all but invisible to elven eyes. Many of them were prone or crouched as Lionel and his squad reached the entrance to the vault. Signaling to his warriors, they all rose and went in.


http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

OOC: I wont be here on sunday or monday cause i got an interview with the army. hopefully i will get in. Oh and if you have auspex, then u will notice all the rapid blips as we crossed the ground. Or if you have other ways to spot us without using sight. But since we didnt even killed the sentries, you aint alerted. But our escape route is cut off.......

Alone in his quarters, Captain Skurash of the Former Mordorian war party lay on his rough bunk, snarling at the ceiling.

Like him, his thoughts were not pretty, and they were reflected in his expressions as his mind pounded over the same ground again and again.

The boss had praised him when he had arrived, for seeing the opportunity of the Vapi technology for the clan.

Jasmina was lusting after him. He was certain of that.

Now the boss had taken over talking with D'Tok and was handling the way the forces worked together. The drilling was going on, and there was nothing to do till the vault was opened.

The warriors trained with the mudworm dirtdwellers. That meant that fear of the Mordorians would be growing.

Jasmina was too arrogant by half, needed taming.

If the rulers back home knew what was going on, it would be the hives or worse. It would be seen as treason.

And why not? Why shouldn't the clan rise in power?

Jasmina would be more welcoming if Skurash were more powerful.

Commander Skurash. Duke Skurash.

The bitch would beg to be his woman then.

But Kushrag would take the credit for the Vapi weaponry.

Kushrag may even try to kill Skurash to protect his glory.

B*stard!

~the vapi weaponry should be wielded only by a true warrior~

A true warrior is one who leads his forces! Not some officer with privilege and power.

~kushrag has had an easy life, high born clan warrior, all the luck~

Skurash has had to fight for everything.

~with kushrag out of the way, the vapi weapon will be up for grabs, so will jasmina, so will anything~

"Damn him" Skurash said out loud, then jumped as though startled by his own voice.

~it is time to act~

Skurash swung his legs from the cot and picked up his heavy pistol.

Jasmina first, then Kushrag.

He wiped the drool from his chin with the back of his left hand.

(Carry on then, you mkae the first move, I cannot react to either one of you. Only thing that I can say, is that Jasmina is still currently training (she had a break obviously))

The feared Elite First company of the 1st Elvarin regiment crept in the darkness of the vault, each one in silent contemplation as of their fate in this mission. But where their Lord Colonel goes, they follow willingly.....

Sire, more corridors. Do we go into them?, the lead squad's sergeant signaled to Lionel.

No, only if its leading down. Rigged these corridors with explosives, he signaled back and turned to the two squads on his right. You two will provide covering fire on the offchance they are spotted

Whispering in his comm bead, he ordered, "The rest, follow me and rig explosives to any straight corridor you find. We are going in deeper. Those that got left behind, quickly follow up, I have this strange feeling that we might need every warrior we got".

All around him, his warriors grinned in anticipation for the blood that will flow this night. Lionel grinned with them, then blinked rapidly as he realised what he was feeling. What is happening to me? To us?, He quailed within as he realised that he was bringing his warriors into the darkness with him once again.

No! What is evil about this mission? We are doing righteous work this night by wiping the bandits from the face of this world!!, was his self denial but deep within he knew that he was going to enjoy doing it.....

http://oz.games-workshop.com/warhammerworld/warhammer/highelves/HE-articles/images/heartwork2a.jpg
Lord Colonel Lionel Brightwing
Of The House Of Tel Alorn
Commanding Officer Of 1st Elvarin Regiment

To Lionel:

~No! What is evil about this mission? We are doing righteous work this night by wiping the bandits from the face of this world!!~

~righteous work~

~wiping the bandits from the face of this world!!~

~why delay? pity is for the weak. Wiping them out will save many lives, make you a hero. No one could object.~

:D

MEANWHILE BACK WITH SKURASH...

Skurash made his way through the vault to the training grounds where he knew Jasmina was...playing. Encountering a pair of troopers, one of his and one of the locals, he pushed angrily past them.

"Out of my way dung worms!" he snarled.

Arriving at the training ground he looked at the vault soldiers going through their paces, then over at Jasmina watching from the command position.

"Mine," he growled to himself. He stalked over toward her, ready to counter any flirtatious resistance, and placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him.

"No more games," he hissed. "I'm claiming you. I'm taking control of our troops here, and I want you at my side."

(Back at the base)

Jasmina narrowed her eyes in a challenge. She gritted her teeth, her hand still upon her assualt rifle. She extremely quickly, witha quick snap of her gun, used the but of her gun to smack Skurash straight in the mouth.

He was sent reeling from the heavy blow, Jasmina did not know if he would be knocked out by it (you would be stunned by it for a short few seconds at least)

"You even try and do that again bastard, and I will kill you myself. I command my soldiers, and not some brute. Try taking me on, I would enjoy teaching you a hard lesson in reality in the desert." Jasmina proclaimed defiantly, her soliders gathered around her, pointing thier weapons at him.


---

Meanwhile.

The darkness was impenetrable. The place was almost completely deserted....the bare minimum of guards law around the place, being dispatched quickly. Old warriors, young bandits, some women.

The Den was silent....no-one was around. They turned into a room to check if there were any people....and lo and behold, there was.

A family of three, a mother and her two children, both listening to her read a story while they were in thier beds. The children turned and looked at the elfs, feeling something strange....something eerie.

"Mommy! A ghost!!!" the child wailed, and the second began to sob. The mother looked at the open door, and was not trusting. She reached for her pistol in defence or this thing....which she could not see...but sense quite acutely.

Skurash staggered back, clutching at the pain in his jaw, blood oozing from his split lip. Rage overpowered him and he prepared to spring forward at the ... female that had so rebuffed him. The guns of every trooper behind Jasmina swung to cover him.

Survival, that was always the key.

Skurash had survived so long not only by strength and brutality, but through an instinct that told him when to attack and when to feign comradeship. His promotion to Captain had come following just such an incident, years passing between an insult delivered and the inevitable revenge upon his superior officer.

He forced a smile.

"Good," he grunted, "your people do have spine. We can work well together."

He suppressed the rage that threatened to dominate him. And then...

A thought arose, clear and strong in his mind. Seemingly from nowhere.

~humiliated by that bitch. you are stronger than them, than all of them. show courage, destroy them~

Skurash faltered. This impulse was insane. Insane, but irresistible.

~strike them NOW~

With a subhuman roar of rage, confusion and terror, Skurash drew his heavy pistol on Jasmina, and pulled the trigger...

IN THE COMMS ROOM OF THE VAULT...

A sudden unexpected transmission is received by the technicians there.

"This is an urgent and confidential transmission for Commander D'Tok from the Protectorate of the Former Mordorians. Is Commander D'Tok available to receive this communication?"

The bullet roared from the heavy pistol, bearing into Jasmina's armour. It pierced through the black carpace and into her flesh, although it was slowed by it.

Jasmina was hit in the mid-section, due to Skurash's dazed state...his anger and pure animalistic rage filling him. Jasmina was taken back, shocked by the suddeness of it. But instinct took over.

Jasmina, bleeding from the wound, aimed her own rifle at him.

"Brutish bastard!" she screamed as she pulled the trigger, as did her platoon whihc had gathered around.

Blue bolts left the rifles, going into Skurash. He felt the sting of each laser as they hit his body....and he became paralysed! The laser attacks were still set onto stun, due to the training they had just done. Jasmina could have easily killed him, but chose not to. It would be against the law, and it would not be desirable for the troops. But being a traitor against them...

Jasmina walked over, her face grim with a little pain, as her black armour had a patch of blood forming upon it, and picked up Skurash with one hand, lifting him up face to face, even as Skurash felt totally helpless with his limp body, but he could still see.

"Bad move." she snarled, and headbutted him, releasing him.

She looked at Skurash's troops which had gathered. She looked at them after she had left Skurash's body upon the floor. Her troops aimed thier guns at them.

"Anyone else want to fuck around with me? Because I have plenty more." She asked, still standing after a bullet wound to the chest, waiting if anyone would do anything stupid.

IN THE COMMS ROOM OF THE VAULT...

A sudden unexpected transmission is received by the technicians there.

"This is an urgent and confidential transmission for Commander D'Tok from the Protectorate of the Former Mordorians. Is Commander D'Tok available to receive this communication?"

"Yes. This is he. Continue." D'tok said, in his private quarters. He had a private comm system.

Skurash lay reeling on the floor, synapses misfiring as the agony induced by the energy weapons persisted.

Panic filled his animalistic mind, the events of the last few minutes a mystery to him.

And then the voice again.

~serve your master one final time~

A massive cereberal haemorrage tore into Skurash's frontal lobe killing him instantly, leaving a quivering corpse on the floor.

"What the..." Jasmina said rather astonished at this. The stun mode should not have done that.

"Medic!" She cried, not really caring, and it was obvious. A medic came over to him and took a swift reading.

"He...he is dead." the medic said softly.

Jasmina stared at the corpse....what the hell just happened here she though.

Skurash's troopers looked at the fallen body of their leader, then at each other.

"They killed the chief!" one of them whispered in disbelief.

"Killed chief!" another roared.

Mob psychology asserted itself, and the Former Mordorian troopers rushed, as one, toward Jasmina's warriors, brandishing their own pistols and opening fire.

Somewhere, something smiled.

MEANWHILE

In D'Tok's quarters the refined voice crackled over the comm system.

"My name is Markus Shandor, a Knight of the Protectorate of the Former Mordorians. We have received intelligence that renegade forces ostensibly representing our exalted and compassionate master have allied themselves with you. I am currently in transit and cannot intervene personally.

"I assume that you are an unwilling or unknowing accomplice to the actions of these renegades.

"If this is the case then we expect you to be able to take action against these dangerous individuals at once before harm is brought by them to your people.

"I personally guarantee that whatever aid they have offered you will be honoured by our master in exchange for this aid. You may preserve the lives of the workers if you wish, but the traitorous warriors must all die.

"What is your response?"

:shock: :shock: :shock: :shock: :shock:

(HOLY FUCK!!!!! Nice twist!)

D'tok felt completely chileld to the bone. He did not react, for his mind was collecting what had just happened. He replied, "What guarrenty do you have that you are the true ruler, and true commander of Former Mordorians?"

But his answer came in another form. Jasmina was over the comms, bellowing in battle speak

"Irek tu is frell! Gieth tih Moridians!"

Shortly, that meant "Enemy attack! Traitor Mordorians!"

D'tok, before his question was answered, said shortly.

"My gratitude." the signal ended.

D'tok pressed a button, opening comms on all channels, to the sargents of each platoon.

"Lock this place down! Kill the traitor Mordorians! No mercy to those bastards!" D'tok roared over the comms. He slammed his fist onto his metal desk and picked up his assault rifle and helmet, swiftly putting it on.

He stormed out, promptly met by his own elite platoon, already armed with the best weapons.

"Your orders?" One asked under the black helmet of the spec-ops armour.

"We go to east quadrant. We defend that position, prevent them from moving! That is where the majority of the Moridian forces are being held." D'tok barked, breaking into a run, loading his gun up, a high pitched whine as he charged it up.

D'tok, using the in-built comms in his helmet contacted other platoons to help Jasmina, before asking her directly.

"What is the situation?" D'tok asked Jasmina, hearing the gunfire.

---

Jasmina was horrified and taken back by the rush of the enemy troops. She snarled and set an example of them, placing her gun onto kill, as did her platoon.

"DIE!" She roared as laser fire, and returning gun fire filled the tight training facility.

They had the upper hand at first, as they already had thier guns ready, thier training prepared them for this. But they where outnumbered severly. The first rank of this mob fell swiftly to the raining death of the 16 soliders under Jasmina's command, as the walked back slowly. Jasmina roared in defiance, as bullets flew around. One to her left fell under a hail of bullets. She continued to pour laser fire into the mob.

They fell back into the mock up of the tunnels three people at the back guarding thier position as they fled. They were swiftly cut down.

Jasmina mind worked swiftly. They set up positions in the narrow tunnels, and going to higher vantage points. They 13 soliders now, and where better prepared. They aimed down, ready for the oncoming flood of soliders.

Jasmina had been hit twice more, this time her armour saving her from harm, yet it left her arm numb from the shock. She aimed her weapon, readied a grenade in the other hand.

They came. Jasmina fired down from her elevated position. If help did not come, they would be as good as dead, depending on the numbers.

http://gamesradar.msn.co.uk/media/gamesradar/killzone2004jan_04.jpg

(OOC Have ALL the troops attacked now?)

OOC: :D It's not a nice country where they come from...

OOC: So far only the troopers who saw Skurash cut down have attacked but it doesn't take much for these barbarians to react to a perceived threat. It's quite likely that all the FM troops will overreact in an instant when they realise they're under threat. Unless D'Tok contains them somehow it's likely that they'll run amok. Starting with...

IC: The distant sound of gunfire reached the leader of the Mordorian contingent. Kushrag wheeled round suspiciously on the nearest of the Vault personnel.

"That noise is live fire! What treachery is this?"

The man was a good actor, Kushrag decided, looking as surprised as the Mordorian. Kushrag drew his B3K and slashed viciously at the man before he had a chance to defend himself.

Not stopping to see if the man was dead, he yanked out his comm and yelled through it.

"Warriors of the Clanlands! We are betrayed! Defend yourselves! Take this vault!"

>bump<

(Apologies. Things have gotten busy. Urm you need to say what the hell is going on! in the training facility, and with your troops! I cannot fight this one alone, I need your input to what is happened in the training area with Jasmina.)

(OOC: OK- there were a small number of FM troops in the training area who have just attacked Jasmina and her unit. Elsewhere in the vault, the other FM troops - who are probably split up into various areas- have just been notified that they are in danger and been ordered to try to secure the area. They will be trying to neutralise the defenders, regroup together and form an attack. Hope this helps! Your guys outnumber and outgun mine, but mine are pretty ferocious so may do some damage).

IC:

In the training area, Subcommander Jarak wiped blood from a deep wound on his forehead and rallied his men.

"There are only a dozen of those maggots, form into a hammer and charge them!"

None of the troopers replied, they simply braced themselves for the headlong charge. One hurled a small frag grenade into the tunnel mock up, in preparation for them breaking cover and advancing.

The grenade exploded with a dull >whump< followed by the rapid pinging of fragments. With a collective roar of battle frenzy the troopers raced forward, strafing into the darkness...

"Grenade!"


Everyone covered thier faces, and a storm of shrapnel filled the front part of the corridor. A poor unfortunate solider was blown back by the bast, thrown onto his back. He was bleeding from many places, most of it absorbed by the flak armour.

Unfortunately, nothing short of power armour could help him against the unruly mob flooding the corrdor now. He roared in defiance as he let hell come forth from his gun. He damaged a few befor ehe was quickly brought down himself, going limp.

Damn it! 12.


The entire squad slwoly was moving backwards, Jasmina was firing from a elevation. She let red bolts come from her Hellgun, and then she pressed the alteritive fire mode, and released a small grenade, which rolled upon the floor into the mob.

Three seconds later, a vicious eruption of flames and black smoke came about, blinding and burning in a unusual design of grenade. Jasmina smiled. These new weapons were serving well. Pity it was the only one she had.


The squad continued to fall back.

--

There was complete anarcy throughout the vault, gunfire ringing in everyone's ears. D'tok was still on the move with his platoon....they would get to the training facility in a while, D'tok only hoped that he would get there in time....

OOC: Sorry for not replying for so long but things have been busy. And dont worry former modorians, i dont mind ur 'mind' involvement , though just let me do with all the mental twisting :wink:

IC: The Elven warriors of sixth squad felt an overwhelming urge to fire into the small human family as the child gave an outburst, but centuries of instilled discipline took hold. They werent seen but the child 'knew' that something was there.

They are young and innocent, the scout signaled to his sargeant.

They are civilians, let us not involve them in the bloodshed to follow, he signaled back. The light flickered above the family and suddenly he saw......

Blood everywhere, limbs scattered across a desert camp, the wailing of the dying as he took his knife to a child's thro... and the light returned to normal and all was as it is.

The sergeant blinked and the family was thankfully still there. The nightmares, I thought they had disappeared forever. Looking back at the family uneasily, he turned to leave with his squad. Please, let no more innocents be lost to my hand, he prayed silently.

OOC: Veric, can you give me more of a hand, so that i know what i am navigating myself into.

"SLIME!" roared Jarak who had been felled by the blast, the burning screaming body of one of his troopers, Meshog, was writhing across him. Meshog had been closest to the grenade when it went off.

Jarak pushed Meshog from him and pumped two bullets into the screaming man to silence him. Around Jarak the sound of gunfire and energy weapons mingled to form a terrible white-noise. His own head was ringing and purple spots obscured his vision, remnants of the explosion.

Primal rage built within Jarak and he prepared to lead a desperate charge into the darkness, trusting in his berserk fury to sustain him.