Einhauser
19-06-2005, 01:39
The overhead lights in the auditorium dimmed, and the running lights in the floor glowed an electric blue. Fog machines hidden in the bases of the massive twin holotanks on the large stage poured mist out into the audience. The overall effect was unnerving, to say the least. Hushed conversations died away as the last of the lights shut off, and the room was lit with only the purplish-blue of the running lights.
Suddenly, three floodlights snapped to life and focused on the podium on the center of the stage, where a man had suddenly appeared. He was six feet tall if he was an inch, and his dark skin glowed in the dim lighting. His scalp was totally devoid of hair, but he somehow managed to make it look dignified. With a sweep of his iron-gray eyes, he took in the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his deep voice echoing throughout the chamber, “my name is Andrew Christofore. I am director of the nation of Einhauser’s genetic research laboratory, and I have asked you all here today for a reason. In a moment, I will show you something that will both shock and amaze you, but I must ask that you refrain from sudden outbursts.” Christofore smiled at the confused expressions on the faces of the men and women below him. Good, he thought.
“For some time now Einhauser, at the behest of Jason Green, our beloved CEO, has been striving to create a super-soldier capable of defeating even the most advanced troops of super-nations, such as the Sentinels of Automagfreak. We met with mild success, eventually perfecting the DNA sequence necessary to create an excellent combat soldier. Our efforts resulted in the Marine. They have become Einhauer’s main line of defense against all manner of ground-based threats, and I must say,” Andrew looked mildly boastful, “that they are without peer.”
“However,” he boomed, “that is not why you are here today. No, you are here to see a rather interesting byproduct of the Marine program. You are here to witness the Champa.” As Andrew spoke the name, the wall behind him lit up, revealing it to be a giant display screen. On it were schematics of what looked like a humongous, deformed human. If the numbers on the screen could be believed, the creature stood 20 feet high and weighed over seven tons. Its arms were long enough to reach the ground without forcing the creature to bend over, and thickly muscled. The head was vaguely humanoid, with a jutting lower jaw housing two serrated tusks, and ram-like horns protruded from the temples of the beast.
The crowed gasped audibly, no doubt amazed at what they perceived as a crime against nature. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Champa. We accidentally discovered the process for creating them while working on the Marines, and have now perfected it. They are naturally armored killing machines, possessing the strength to pick up MBTs and rip them in half, scale buildings, and wield trees like no more than toothpicks.” Andrew looked downcast for a moment. “Unfortunately, one cannot get a real feel for the creature unless one has actually been in their presence.” Christofore brightened suddenly, and smiled out at the audience. “That is why I have arranged a little… demonstration.”
With a flick of a hidden switch, the large, flat platform in the audience began to rise into the air, forcing civilians who had been sitting on it to move away. The platform rose about five feet, and then stopped. Suddenly, the purple top of the platform split open, and a force-cage was raised from below. Within its confines resided a monstrosity.
“Behold! The Champa!” shouted Andrew. The creature roared and slammed its incredibly large fists into the force field surrounding it and let an earsplitting roar. The audience took a collective step back, and a few of the women shrieked. The Champa swept its beady little eyes across the room, squaring up what it perceived as threats. A small man in a black hood climbed up onto the platform and began feverishly manipulating a small device. “This man,” Christofore indicated the hooded figure “is the beat’s trainer. He has programmed it to respond aggressively to any perceived threats. In this case, it has deemed you,” he glanced at the audience, “a threat. Please, remain calm while it is brought under control. While you are waiting,” he added cheerfully, “why not watch some ‘home videos’ I have prepared?”
At those words, the schematic of the Champa disappeared from the wall-screen and was replaced with grainy video of a Champa in strange armor dashing up a hill. At the top sat a lone MBT, which was franticly firing shells down at the onrushing behemoth. Most of the rounds flew wide, leaving gaping craters in the landscape. One, however, impacted directly into the Champa’s breastplate. The big creature shuddered and stepped back a few paces, then charged on. As it cleared the smoke, a hole a meter in diameter could be seen in the center of the armor. The stupefied tank crew snapped out of their amazed trance and managed to bail out before the ape-like human slammed into the tank. It dug its massive claws into the metal of the machine and promptly ripped it in half. Just then the video cut out, and all eyes returned to the cage.
The hooded man had managed to bring the Champa under control, and it now simply glared at the audience. “The Champa’s skin is thick enough to withstand limited small arms fire, and has mercifully few nerves.” As if on cue, a humanoid robot was dropped into the cage. It unholstered a rather large pistol, and proceeded to shoot the Champa between the eyes. Instead of keeling over like any natural creature should have, the Champa leaned over and bit the robot in half. Not even a single drop of blood oozed from the wound in its forehead as it chewed the robot’s torso with apparent relish.
“Now,” resumed Andrew, “you may have noticed the Champa in the video was wearing armor. I will now show you it.” With a flick of a second hidden switch, the twin holotanks flanking the podium lit up. Inside were holographic representations of the armor seen in the video. The chest plate was over a foot thick, and similar densities were present in all the other pieces of the armor. The massive helmet had holes cut in it for the horns and tusks. A compact fusion reactor powered the suit’s artificial musculature, which amplifies the Champa’s originally incredible strength to unimaginable levels. “This is the JSV-98 armor. It can withstand direct laser or shellfire from point plank range. The weakest point in the armor can shrug off a 102mm round with ease, and the glassteel visor allows unrestricted vision. The ends of the sleeves have hooks on them, enabling the so-called ‘Servo-claw’ to be attached. These massive glove-like apparatuses lend the Champa the ability to crush nearly any known armor to dust and dig straight through concrete. Various D-rings and other attachments are scattered across the suit, allowing thermal charges, heavy weapons, and even extra armor plating to be carried.”
Andrew smiled his warmest smile at the assembled crowd below the stage. “I will now have a round of questions. Only one per person, please. Thank you.” To the crowd’s great relief, the caged Champa sank back into the platform it had sprung from, and the first eager hands began to rise.
OOC: This is pretty much a living tank. The armor is rated for null-gravity and use in a vacuum. Although the Champa are too dim to use guns, they can understand how to throw grenades and can use axes, swords, maces, you name it. They can’t understand human language, so specially trained handlers issue orders with remote devices that send signals directly to their brain. They cannot reproduce, so they must all be bought from me. At the moment they are not for sale, but stay tuned. Feel free to ask any questions, just fraise it like you were in the audience.
Suddenly, three floodlights snapped to life and focused on the podium on the center of the stage, where a man had suddenly appeared. He was six feet tall if he was an inch, and his dark skin glowed in the dim lighting. His scalp was totally devoid of hair, but he somehow managed to make it look dignified. With a sweep of his iron-gray eyes, he took in the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his deep voice echoing throughout the chamber, “my name is Andrew Christofore. I am director of the nation of Einhauser’s genetic research laboratory, and I have asked you all here today for a reason. In a moment, I will show you something that will both shock and amaze you, but I must ask that you refrain from sudden outbursts.” Christofore smiled at the confused expressions on the faces of the men and women below him. Good, he thought.
“For some time now Einhauser, at the behest of Jason Green, our beloved CEO, has been striving to create a super-soldier capable of defeating even the most advanced troops of super-nations, such as the Sentinels of Automagfreak. We met with mild success, eventually perfecting the DNA sequence necessary to create an excellent combat soldier. Our efforts resulted in the Marine. They have become Einhauer’s main line of defense against all manner of ground-based threats, and I must say,” Andrew looked mildly boastful, “that they are without peer.”
“However,” he boomed, “that is not why you are here today. No, you are here to see a rather interesting byproduct of the Marine program. You are here to witness the Champa.” As Andrew spoke the name, the wall behind him lit up, revealing it to be a giant display screen. On it were schematics of what looked like a humongous, deformed human. If the numbers on the screen could be believed, the creature stood 20 feet high and weighed over seven tons. Its arms were long enough to reach the ground without forcing the creature to bend over, and thickly muscled. The head was vaguely humanoid, with a jutting lower jaw housing two serrated tusks, and ram-like horns protruded from the temples of the beast.
The crowed gasped audibly, no doubt amazed at what they perceived as a crime against nature. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Champa. We accidentally discovered the process for creating them while working on the Marines, and have now perfected it. They are naturally armored killing machines, possessing the strength to pick up MBTs and rip them in half, scale buildings, and wield trees like no more than toothpicks.” Andrew looked downcast for a moment. “Unfortunately, one cannot get a real feel for the creature unless one has actually been in their presence.” Christofore brightened suddenly, and smiled out at the audience. “That is why I have arranged a little… demonstration.”
With a flick of a hidden switch, the large, flat platform in the audience began to rise into the air, forcing civilians who had been sitting on it to move away. The platform rose about five feet, and then stopped. Suddenly, the purple top of the platform split open, and a force-cage was raised from below. Within its confines resided a monstrosity.
“Behold! The Champa!” shouted Andrew. The creature roared and slammed its incredibly large fists into the force field surrounding it and let an earsplitting roar. The audience took a collective step back, and a few of the women shrieked. The Champa swept its beady little eyes across the room, squaring up what it perceived as threats. A small man in a black hood climbed up onto the platform and began feverishly manipulating a small device. “This man,” Christofore indicated the hooded figure “is the beat’s trainer. He has programmed it to respond aggressively to any perceived threats. In this case, it has deemed you,” he glanced at the audience, “a threat. Please, remain calm while it is brought under control. While you are waiting,” he added cheerfully, “why not watch some ‘home videos’ I have prepared?”
At those words, the schematic of the Champa disappeared from the wall-screen and was replaced with grainy video of a Champa in strange armor dashing up a hill. At the top sat a lone MBT, which was franticly firing shells down at the onrushing behemoth. Most of the rounds flew wide, leaving gaping craters in the landscape. One, however, impacted directly into the Champa’s breastplate. The big creature shuddered and stepped back a few paces, then charged on. As it cleared the smoke, a hole a meter in diameter could be seen in the center of the armor. The stupefied tank crew snapped out of their amazed trance and managed to bail out before the ape-like human slammed into the tank. It dug its massive claws into the metal of the machine and promptly ripped it in half. Just then the video cut out, and all eyes returned to the cage.
The hooded man had managed to bring the Champa under control, and it now simply glared at the audience. “The Champa’s skin is thick enough to withstand limited small arms fire, and has mercifully few nerves.” As if on cue, a humanoid robot was dropped into the cage. It unholstered a rather large pistol, and proceeded to shoot the Champa between the eyes. Instead of keeling over like any natural creature should have, the Champa leaned over and bit the robot in half. Not even a single drop of blood oozed from the wound in its forehead as it chewed the robot’s torso with apparent relish.
“Now,” resumed Andrew, “you may have noticed the Champa in the video was wearing armor. I will now show you it.” With a flick of a second hidden switch, the twin holotanks flanking the podium lit up. Inside were holographic representations of the armor seen in the video. The chest plate was over a foot thick, and similar densities were present in all the other pieces of the armor. The massive helmet had holes cut in it for the horns and tusks. A compact fusion reactor powered the suit’s artificial musculature, which amplifies the Champa’s originally incredible strength to unimaginable levels. “This is the JSV-98 armor. It can withstand direct laser or shellfire from point plank range. The weakest point in the armor can shrug off a 102mm round with ease, and the glassteel visor allows unrestricted vision. The ends of the sleeves have hooks on them, enabling the so-called ‘Servo-claw’ to be attached. These massive glove-like apparatuses lend the Champa the ability to crush nearly any known armor to dust and dig straight through concrete. Various D-rings and other attachments are scattered across the suit, allowing thermal charges, heavy weapons, and even extra armor plating to be carried.”
Andrew smiled his warmest smile at the assembled crowd below the stage. “I will now have a round of questions. Only one per person, please. Thank you.” To the crowd’s great relief, the caged Champa sank back into the platform it had sprung from, and the first eager hands began to rise.
OOC: This is pretty much a living tank. The armor is rated for null-gravity and use in a vacuum. Although the Champa are too dim to use guns, they can understand how to throw grenades and can use axes, swords, maces, you name it. They can’t understand human language, so specially trained handlers issue orders with remote devices that send signals directly to their brain. They cannot reproduce, so they must all be bought from me. At the moment they are not for sale, but stay tuned. Feel free to ask any questions, just fraise it like you were in the audience.