NationStates Jolt Archive

Within the unrelenting and anarchic tides of chaos, lurked a horrible, titanic beast made of the hulks of dilapidated and rotting starships, and the amalgam of rock and bastardized machine. This beast was home to an innumerable amount of lesser beings; grotesque abominations of all size, all green in their color, lending to their already fetid and twisted appearance of which seemed inexplicably ripped from the nightmares of madmen from the deepest depths of their insanity.

These aversions to creation roamed about every available decaying inch of this fleet of ships. Restless, it seemed, as more and more of these abhorrent creatures began skulking aimlessly through fungus-infested refuse that had obscured the ships once ashen grating.

“Suaag!” one of the larger green monstrosities screamed, “Da men are bored, wen weeb goin’ fight?” he continued defiantly. “S’ut it! Wee’z goin’ be scrappin’ soon.” Suaag said, the quagmire of cybernetic enhancements and raw muscle turning towards the Ork who had just addressed him. “See t’ar?” Suaag said, pointing towards a planet that had just appeared on the overhead display, “Wee’z goin’ ta ‘it t’at.” A roaring battlecry rang out from every ork in the room the second Suaag pointed out what was very soon to become a new battlefield. “Yea’, yea,’ s’ut it foolz! We aint even t’ar yet, save y’er energy.” He said, pointing his giant metal claw authoritatively at every ork present as he did so.

Suaag’s fleet emerged from the immaterium, thousands and thousands of engines flared into a crescendo of fire as they fell towards the planet; intent on devastating and destroying everything in the path of their tumultuous rampage.

New Agua's sensor array was out of date. Very out of date. At least, by Roanian standards. Which meant that the orks weren't visible until they were in system. There was only one real option for the scientists, however. And that was activate the emergency broadcast system.

Sirens broke out across the small scientific research base on the planet, and security forces quickly set up their positions. "Send a transmission to Imperial 1, 1." The commander ordered, desperation entering his voice. "Something big is coming, and we'll need help."

This far from the Divine Imperium's center, there were no fancy orbital defences. Not even cannons. No one had expected an attack from the civilised sections of the galaxy, anyway. All the Roanians could do was hope that help would arrive from the center in time.

The jubilee that rocked the bridge of Suaag’s ship, the Rok Kraka , came to an abrupt end; there were no signs of a significant population or military presence on the planet, only a meager settlement with a small garrisoning force not worth the resources of Suaag’s entire Waagh.

“S’it!” Suaag snarled, “T’ere iz no good scrap ‘ere; Dis won’t take fiv minutez wit’ just a dozun warbandz!” the Orks seemed more and more depressed as each moment passed; there would be no grand battle or glorious trophies to collect, just a small skirmish with a local garrison that had no hope of successfully defending itself.

The countless engines of the Ork fleet ceased their fiery red glow, coasting slowly through space towards a near lifeless world. “Meeb goin’ down wif ten warbandz and stompa da sqwiggod, diz will be a good practice scarp!” he bellowed from the mechanical depths of his Armoured torso. An attempt in vain it seemed, to reinvigorate the spirits of his now sulking green comrades. The announcement did not rouse a harrowing warcry or the sound of shootaz clanging against whatever surface its wielder decided to slam it against, just a mild quickening of pace and an uncaring facial expression amongst Suaag’s motley crew.

___________

Hours had passed since a small portion of Suaag’s fleet fell around the settlement, now dwarfed by the size of the rushing green tide that had now engulfed it. Suaag led the charge atop Stompa the Squiggoth, a very old but very well armoured titan of the ground who could devour tanks in his massive maw, or trample entire divisions of men under the weight of his massive clawed feet.

Lobbaz and Kannonz; Fighta-bommaz and Stormboyz; Boyz and Killer Kanz, all laid into the hapless colony – now encased in a shell of green skin and thick smoke – with their full and unrelenting power. “Dis battle gonna be ova soon,” Suaag gloated, “Meeb gonna ‘af a bunch of new skullz and teef w’en dis is done.”

The Legionnaires had retreated to positions within the fort. Down below, the scientists urgently attempted to recalibrate their communications software, trying desperately to send their research back to the ministry, with an addendum informing Rudan Prime of their fate. Then, with a simple gesture, they activated their base's internal security mechanisms. And walked into them.

The military was not having an easy time of it. The garrison was tiny, only 10,000 men without any heavy weaponry. But they were Roanians, and as such armed with some of the most powerful weaponry in the galaxy. At least, ordinarily.

Things weren't going to plan, however. "First company, open fire!" Unlike the orks, the Roanians fired carefully, their weaponry scoring direct hits. Silent beams of particles at disentegration-velocity flew across the plains. Ordinarily even a glancing hit sent the target into shock. But this time, only a few of the orks fell, the others ignoring their vanished limbs and grazes to contine on.

The highest officer, Captain Lionel Regis, placed his rifle down. This was it, then. He looked at his ten thousand men. "...Soldiers of the Divine Imperium! The light shall be with us!" He drew his phase sword and pointed down at the incoming enemy. "If we break, none shall remember our names. Yet if we go to the light now, singing the praise of our lord, our names shall go down forever!" He began to sing The Setting Sun's Lament. One by one, the other legionnaires joined in. "And yet, as the light darkens...so too shall it rise..."

And as they reached the crescendo, they charged into combat. Ten thousand legionnaires running across the plain to meet the greenskins, swords at the ready.

A salvo from the guns tore holes in the advancing lines. Then the orks charged forward to meet them.


After the battle, the Roanians lay dead across the rocky fields of New Agua. Lionel had been the first to fall, battling against three orks before his final moment. Where he lay, he had clutched in his arm his Book of the Sun.

As the smoke cleared, and the fires abated, the true face of valor revealed itself. The defenders knew the moment the first red drop-ships began burning through the atmosphere that it was their final hour. They knew when the tides of greens stretched far over the horizon in all directions that there was no hope, there would be no salvation from the grizzly fate the powers that be had laid out for them, but still they fought on, ten orks for every one of that fell under rampaging green.

The first wave was totally repelled by the ferocity of the defenders, cutting down ork after ork with the singing power of their well-aimed weapons. When it came to close combat the defenders were equally as tenacious, if not more so; facing down the spinning blades of power axes wielded by maniacal green monsters charging at them with furious fervor. Even as Suaag himself came bearing down on them atop stompa, they stood their ground. Blasting into his armoured hide, slashing at him with their swords even as he impaled them, ate them, and crushed them under his rampaging feet. Then it was over.

The impact craters filled with a disgusting blend of red and green blood; the severed hands of the defenders floating in this vile elixir still squeezed in vain for a trigger so to vanquish the already victorious attackers. It was this desire to fight, to defend to the last man that impressed Suaag the most, leading him to collect the skull of one clutching a book - a golden sun ordaining the cover -with strength granted to men only in death.

Suaag placed the skull in the most ornate and lavish jar in his position, atop the golden pedestal raised by a grand dais in the center of his grand trophy room. Suaag starred deep into the laminated skull’s one remaining eye, noticing the eye stared back with an incomprehensible rage for desire; vengeance upon his conquers, vengeance upon those who would dare defile the sacred territory he defended with their vile existence, and then it spoke. “To Rudan…”

“Wot?!” Suaag said in astonishment, “To Rudan…” the skull replied with energies radiating through the center of his eye, “To Rudan…” Suaag only stood there, his massive iron jaw wide-open, “Wot iz Rudan? W’ere iz it?” he asked hysterically, “W’o ar you?” the skull remained silent, the gleaming energies vanished.

“Guah, wotever…” Suaag count not help but notice the skull’s gaze had shifted slightly, through the rooms view port towards a faint star that struggled just to twinkle. “Iz dat… no way…” He paused, an inexplicable build up of excitement pulsated through his massive green body as a menacing smile formed upon his abominable face.

“Boyz! Git back ‘ere!” he screamed with all his anger and vehemence, “We’z goin’ to Rudan!” the power of his voice reverberated through the barren country side, rousing all but a scattered few of the orks to action; boarding their drops ships and rejoining the armada. “To Rudan foolz! To Rudan!” he demanded, “Gud scrap, guuud scrap…” he said with a trace of nervous apprehension as the Mek Boyz turned every appropriate gear, and slammed against every button, steering the armada and her feverish orks towards Rudan.

They floated through the warp for a time, emerging in a system with a bright red star, a rocky, brown planet circling her. “Suaag, t’ere iz a system ahead, itz got lotta defenses…” one of the Mek Boyz said, “Eh…” he thought to himself, the Boyz were restless, the fight on New Auga sated them for so long, and only so few, they might rebel if more do not get a chance to stretch their muscles. “Rudan can wait for now… I guess” he grumbled as the beast sped deeper, and deeper into the system to claim yet another victim.

Enlil Arasin was one of the few people in the Necrontyr Empire who could be justifiably described as ‘privileged by blood.’ In actuality, he hadn’t been born there, but rather, ‘headhunted’ because of the desirable characteristics of that blood. He was what was referred to in some circles as an ‘untouchable’ and in others as a ‘Pariah’ but certainly the latter description wasn’t exactly accurate, at least in the necrontyr empire, given that those like him were widely considered to be not only useful, but even, good marriage candidates. There was in fact, significant cachet attached to being associated with such a rare individual, inevitably (not because they were forced to be, but because the terms were so favourable that none had not said no) highly placed government agents, or members of the ‘military.’ When they wished to be identified, they tended to wear, as Enlil did, a version of the golden lapel pins (a larger version of which could be seen on the national flag) of the Order of the Emperor, with diamond in place of ruby and mithril in place of gold.

The necron he was sat opposite was the most senior, Athrana, the ‘Lord Lieutenant’ of the Elenaran. “So…” Enlil mused, “I hear you have an assignment for me?”

The necron, presently in his rather more personable, necrontyr guise, nodded, “Indeed. It appears that there is a Krork infestation somewhere in Roania. And we need someone to pressure the Roanian government to handle the matter correctly.”

“You mean, solicit our aid?” Enlil said, grinning a little. He was about five foot eleven, short by the standards of the nation, and muscular, his carriage showing a certain tendency towards the ideals of his homeland, whose culture could also be seen in his stubborn refusal to adopt the local tendency towards long, effete hair. That said, he was at least dressed half-way to the part, in a white suit with a silver trim, but it was still less elven than the raiment of most of his new countrymen.

“Eventually,” Athrana said, “but in the near future we’re mostly concerned with getting them up to speed on the problem they face. We’ve not exactly got armies to send off Krork hunting, what with this Mirkai occupation still tying up a few million…”

Enlil nodded, “So, what happens now?”

“Well, we’re basically making you an ambassador, and charging you with advising the Roanians on this matter.”

“Isn’t this something of a waste of my talents?”

“The Elenaran thinks not. The Roanians are fairly magical in themselves. You should… irritate them. And the Krorks are pretty close to ideal subjects, should you end up near them.”

Enlil chuckled slightly.

---

And so, Enlil was quickly dispatched, with formalised papers granting him the rank of Minister Plenipotentiary, a personal shielding device in the form of an amulet of jade and aventurine, a sidearm, and something far rarer, a dagger drone, the instrument of choice for many Necrontyr Citizens (and Menelmacari) civilians travelling into dangerous locales.

OOC: This is written assuming that I know (either through disclosed channels, or possibly through Siri) about this. If Roania thinks I shouldn’t know yet, feel free to tell me via IRC, and I’ll delete it.

15th Sapphire Crescent, Imperial City, Roan, Rudan Prime

Divine Imperial Cabinet

Nicholas d'Arquis pinched his nose, his glowing eyes reflecting his aggravation with the situation. It was alarming, it was deadly, it was..."For the last time, Hyazinth, the military budget is just fine as it stands. I see no need for a major refit of the armed forces at this time." The ArchChancellor slammed his fist down on the table, an action which was made less impressive by the fact it barely shook the papers.

Edmund Hyazinth, Minister for the Armed Forces, also slammed his fist down on the table. A rather more inspiring gesture, since it caused the marble table itself to shudder. "All right, Nicholas. You win this time. But you'll regret it." He rose to his feet and sweeped out of the office, his cloak of office barely reaching down to his knees.

The ArchChancellor slumped back into his chair. The other ministers remained silent. Then the Minister of Science placed his own folder on the desk. "An unknown species attacked and destroyed the entirety of the New Aguan research base. I request an extension of the original remit, and a budget increase to restore the base, with a larger presence so we can research these unusual attackers."

The minister for education sniffed, reaching up to smooth back her hair. "Waste of money. I don't see why these aliens can be of any importance to us." After that, the meeting broke up.

~~

Chernobog system defences were nowhere near as powerful as they were on the three 'main' worlds of the Divine Imperium (Rudan Prime, Novaya Zemyla, and Arodcast). However, the world was considered important enough that a shielding array was in place on the moon, and an entire garrison was in place for the 20 million Roanians who happened to live there.

This garrison had a system-wide scanner, which revealed the location of any ships that were coming towards the world. One of the beacons was directly in the path of the Waagh. Its last transmission revealed an immense wall of ships coming towards the system.

~~

The transmission reached Garrison Commander Laurence del'Armigo at 18:20 local time, causing him to abandon his dinner and head to the signal ops room. A message reached Edmund Hyazinth at 23:45, local time.

And a phonecall reached Nicholas d'Arquis at 00:00. The bleary eyed ArchChancellor rolled over in his bed and grabbed the phone, upsetting his sleeping wife. "What is it?"

"Just letting you know that Chernobog is being invaded by an unknown, immense, force." Edmund let that sink in for a moment. "And we might not have the budget to save them."

Nicholas blinked the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. "What?! Do something, Edmund! DO SOMETHING!" The ArchChancellor shouted into the retrophone. "It's an election year!"

"I'll need a little more money..." Edmund pressed for the kill.

"Take an extra hundred."

"Hummm..."

"Billion."

There was silence from the other side.

"A year."

"I'll see what I can do." Edmund triumphantly closed the communication line.

The ‘Diplomatic’ Striker was a large ship by most people’s standards, one hundred and sixty meters long. Its form resembled a sort of claw, painted a slightly mottled white. The hyperspeed generator, currently humming merrily, actually spread out into these claws, in a rather unusual design which was favoured for a short time in the ever-changing field of hyperspeed dynamics. A large window, which expanded over two vertical decks, dominated the ship’s wall, and it showed stars slowly passing by, not as lines, but as glimmering points of light as usual. The view had to be a little corrected of course, to even permit light to be properly parsed by the body at such velocities, but it was nevertheless an accurate representation of the space as they traversed it.

“Are you sure,” the ship asked, “you wouldn’t like to go faster?”

Enlil cocked his head back, as was his wont when talking to something so intangible, “Humm? No. I’d rather watch the stars.”

“As you wish,” the ship said, “You know, you could increase confinement best by altering the alignment torus…”

He looked up from the conversion beamer he was experimenting on, “Is that so?” he asked, tersely.

“Yes, it can be modified to yield an increase of between thirty to one hundred and eighty percent…”

“And reduce range correspondingly,” he said.

“Why would you desire to increase the beamer’s range?”

He looked at the roughly rocket-launcher sized conversion beamer, and shrugged, “I was thinking of weaponising it.”

“Conversion beamers are already used as weapons by the following groups…”

“I know,” he said.

“And they are remarkably inefficient,” the ship said.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m not aiming for something practical… I’m no weapons designer, I just feel like tinkering with it to make a nice big bang…”

“Not on board me, I hope…” the ship demanded sternly.

Enlil chuckled, “no, but you never know, I might get to test it on some krorks…”

And so the ship headed towards Rudan Prime, at a slow pace of a ‘mere’ few hundred million C…

As the fleet edged closer to the planet, the system defenses activated. Many kroozers and hulks were torn asunder by the bright beams of energy that cut through the void towards the imposing mass of ships. “It looks like we’re gonna ‘ave a good scarp today boyz!” Suaag said from his command chair aboard the Big Gunz, his overwhelmingly large flagship. “Boss! some of da kroozers ‘ave been taken out.” One of Suaag’s Mek boyz said hysterically. “We gots plenty more, what’s da worry?” The Mek did not respond to Suaag’s inquiry, instead calibrating more knobs and mashing more buttons as the ship was rocked by hit after hit of the systems defense systems.

The luminous beams of energy knifed through any ship unlucky enough to be in its path, creating clouds of burning debris riding along the tides of inertia through the system as the rest of the fleet slothed towards Chernobog.

The big shoota batteries unleashed a flurry of powerful kinetic rounds that tumbled blindly through space through the white-hot engine trails of Waagh rokkits dancing towards the mass of deadly defense platforms. “T’ere are lots of ‘oomies down on dat planet boss, millions of ‘em!” Suaag feigned another horrible grin, disturbed by the Eye of Lionel he perceived glaring into his soul.

“Why do you stop? Why do you disobey? Why do you wait? To Rudan… To Rudan… Do not defy me. Do not ignore me. To Rudan… To Rudan!” the words were heard in Suaag’s mind as if they had been spoken aloud. He thought the skull was possessed, some foul spirit menacing him as he led his boyz on a glorious campaign of destruction.

“We’z gonna ‘ave a great scrap boyz! Git yer sluggas ready!” thousands of Nobz said similar things to their boyz as the transports readied to descend onto the nearing planets surface. The shrieking sound of the choppa’s blade and the crash of slugga’s against the amoured chests of frenzied orks echoed throughout every blighted hall.

“Suaag, wot we bringin’ to dis scrap?” A Mek asked anxiously, “Ten Gargants, and five squiggoths…” he paused, “Mmm, lotta kans and lotta dreds of course!” Suaag tried to think, but he couldn’t think; atleast not clearly. His mind was a mess of voices and images of death, intensifying as his force fought to reach Chernobog.

((A completely random post which shouldn't be taken as advancing the plot in any real way.))

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v369/Roania/Newscaster.jpg

((Real post will be coming either later tonight or tomorrow))

ALL PERSONNEL TO BATTLESTATIONS. ALL PERSONNEL TO BATTLESTATIONS.

The Defence Grid Station 'Arc of Triumph' shuddered and jolted under the repeated impacts from the orkish weaponry. So far, however, the Roanians had been lucky. Lieutenant Julia Illria knew that luck wasn't likely to stay with her, however. "Get me more beams arcing towards the left 72nd!" There was only a crackle in response. "Get me more beams arcing towards the left 72nd!"

Then one of the missiles scored a direct hit on the Arc's engine. The station exploded in a fiery blaze.


Danger. Danger. Intruders have entered the planetary system.

The Imperial Governor paced anxiously back and forth across the floor. Beneath his feet the sirens of the garrison wailed and echoed. He looked up at the sky. A quarter of the sky was covered in darkness. 'I need to evacuate now.' He reached for the phone, but stopped, torn with anxiety and paralysis.

Then there was a communication. "An Imperial Battlefleet will arrive within the next fifteen minutes." The commander informed him then rang off. Far above, the shimmer of the planetary shield rocked as a salvo hit it once again.

This provided the governor with the resolve he needed. He reached for the messager and anxiously dictated into it the order for a retreat to evacuation zones.

[OOC: is there an ooc thread to go with this rp? also, if this is a closed RP, let me know and I will delete my post]
The Weirdboyz of Waagh! Zaap'ead sent a message to those of Waagh! Zuaag.
"Hey youze boyze! Uz chaos boyz wantz ta help you get doze stupid 'umiez. Let uz know when oua Krooza'z should come ta da syztem."
"Zaap'ead! Sir!" A wierdboy approached the menacing Zaap'ead, whose feathered wings carried him easily across any battlefield, faster even then his stormboyz. "We've sent da message to da boyz of Waagh! Zuaag. We waits fo' their reply. Tzeentch will be appeased wit' broken soulz if dey accepts our help!"

[OOC: is there an ooc thread to go with this rp? also, if this is a closed RP, let me know and I will delete my post]
The Weirdboyz of Waagh! Zaap'ead sent a message to those of Waagh! Zuaag.
"Hey youze boyze! Uz chaos boyz wantz ta help you get doze stupid 'umiez. Let uz know when oua Krooza'z should come ta da syztem."
"Zaap'ead! Sir!" A wierdboy approached the menacing Zaap'ead, whose feathered wings carried him easily across any battlefield, faster even then his stormboyz. "We've sent da message to da boyz of Waagh! Zuaag. We waits fo' their reply. Tzeentch will be appeased wit' broken soulz if dey accepts our help!"

OOC: While I personally have no concern with you joining in, there is the IC reaction of the Orks of Waagh Zuaag to the madboys, which might be a tad...unorky. If Neut has no concerns, come on in.