Roania
25-03-2006, 13:16
The wind buffeted the dropship as it glided through the air, its powerful engines pushing forward against the roaring gust. On board, several of the men shivered. "Catch yer death of cold, eh, Legionnaire Malktenov?" The Comissar snorted, watching one of the men carefully.
The man lowered his arms and tried to follow the Commissar's example, sitting ramrod straight. "When I signed on, I thought I'd be going to postings in Rudan or on Belubog, at the worst... why are we heading to this backwoods planet?"
In response, he got boxed around the back of the head. "Yer'll go where His Most Worthy Lordship the Warlord wants you to go, soldier!" The commissar growled. "And if he wants us to go to the end of the universe to investigate, then so be it!" Not being a noticably cruel man, though, the Commissar cracked open one of the supply boxes and started passing around military greatcoats. "Here. This should keep that virgin skin of yers nice and warm, Malkentov."
There was a comm. from the pilot. "Commissar, we have a situation... the city is up ahead, but there's no radio traffic. In fact, we're not reading any biosigns whatsoever." The pilot flipped open several more channels. "If I didn't know better, I'd say this colony was attacked."
"...attacked? By who? This planet is miles from the main spacelanes, and..." Malkentov was silenced by another whack before the Commissioner wrenched the speaker from the walls.
"Take us down, pilot." He turned to his men. "Suit up! Lord knows what we'll find down there."
~~
The armed men leapt from the dropship and onto the cracked pavement of the city, rifles at the ready. The Commissar shouted out to any listeners, and grunted when there was no reply. "Keep together, men..." he warned.
One of the soldiers spotted something shimmering in the weak evening light. He reached down to pick it up, and then retracted his hand in revulsion. "Ich... what is that?"
The commissar grunted and picked the shimmering object up, steeling himself not to feel disgust. "Whatever it is, I don't like it..." The medallion had a twisting design on one side. On the other, though... he couldn't recognise what the thing was. Some sort of one-eyed dragon with tentacles for teeth. Only not. The medallion felt strangely oily to touch, and the creature was disturbingly realistic. He pocketed it, sure it was important.
They all turned around at a loud scream echoing from one of the open doors , where one of the other soldiers was investigating. Activating their weapons, the men ran for the door, only to skid to a halt. One of them fainted, and even the commissar turned pale. The man who had seen it first gibbered alarmingly, crouched in the corner away from the horrific scene.
The foyer was a charnel house. Blood hung and dripped from the walls, organs decorated furniture. But most horrific of all was the far wall, where someone, or something, had written, in blood and other, even more horrific, liquids, unknown words using an unknown alphabet.
The Commissar managed to regain control of his facilities, and snapped, "Someone... sketch...sketch those things down... then take a photo, and..." he narrowed his eyes, "burn...burn the bodies... and we'll remove this planet from the archives."
The men, grateful for direction, hastened to comply.
~~
However, the Roanians had not counted on the tenacity of Weyland's former inhabitants. Repeated requests for help had travelled in every direction, and simply because they had been the first to arrive, doesn't mean that other's wouldn't later, and perhaps decide to stay and investigate, searching for either treasure or an explanation...
(Weyland is an independent colony world, which means it isn't attached to any of the major NS nations. If you want, you can claim it to be part of $Dead Nation. I'd prefer if smaller groups were sent, no massive armies. In fact, no groups larger than fiveten. Individuals would be best, of course.
The groups can be anyone. Pirates, investigating soldiers, bounty-hunters, rogues, crazy cultists looking for a world to claim for their own. This is open to all, though a single person posting several times with different nations will eventually be figured out and roasted over an open fire.)
The man lowered his arms and tried to follow the Commissar's example, sitting ramrod straight. "When I signed on, I thought I'd be going to postings in Rudan or on Belubog, at the worst... why are we heading to this backwoods planet?"
In response, he got boxed around the back of the head. "Yer'll go where His Most Worthy Lordship the Warlord wants you to go, soldier!" The commissar growled. "And if he wants us to go to the end of the universe to investigate, then so be it!" Not being a noticably cruel man, though, the Commissar cracked open one of the supply boxes and started passing around military greatcoats. "Here. This should keep that virgin skin of yers nice and warm, Malkentov."
There was a comm. from the pilot. "Commissar, we have a situation... the city is up ahead, but there's no radio traffic. In fact, we're not reading any biosigns whatsoever." The pilot flipped open several more channels. "If I didn't know better, I'd say this colony was attacked."
"...attacked? By who? This planet is miles from the main spacelanes, and..." Malkentov was silenced by another whack before the Commissioner wrenched the speaker from the walls.
"Take us down, pilot." He turned to his men. "Suit up! Lord knows what we'll find down there."
~~
The armed men leapt from the dropship and onto the cracked pavement of the city, rifles at the ready. The Commissar shouted out to any listeners, and grunted when there was no reply. "Keep together, men..." he warned.
One of the soldiers spotted something shimmering in the weak evening light. He reached down to pick it up, and then retracted his hand in revulsion. "Ich... what is that?"
The commissar grunted and picked the shimmering object up, steeling himself not to feel disgust. "Whatever it is, I don't like it..." The medallion had a twisting design on one side. On the other, though... he couldn't recognise what the thing was. Some sort of one-eyed dragon with tentacles for teeth. Only not. The medallion felt strangely oily to touch, and the creature was disturbingly realistic. He pocketed it, sure it was important.
They all turned around at a loud scream echoing from one of the open doors , where one of the other soldiers was investigating. Activating their weapons, the men ran for the door, only to skid to a halt. One of them fainted, and even the commissar turned pale. The man who had seen it first gibbered alarmingly, crouched in the corner away from the horrific scene.
The foyer was a charnel house. Blood hung and dripped from the walls, organs decorated furniture. But most horrific of all was the far wall, where someone, or something, had written, in blood and other, even more horrific, liquids, unknown words using an unknown alphabet.
The Commissar managed to regain control of his facilities, and snapped, "Someone... sketch...sketch those things down... then take a photo, and..." he narrowed his eyes, "burn...burn the bodies... and we'll remove this planet from the archives."
The men, grateful for direction, hastened to comply.
~~
However, the Roanians had not counted on the tenacity of Weyland's former inhabitants. Repeated requests for help had travelled in every direction, and simply because they had been the first to arrive, doesn't mean that other's wouldn't later, and perhaps decide to stay and investigate, searching for either treasure or an explanation...
(Weyland is an independent colony world, which means it isn't attached to any of the major NS nations. If you want, you can claim it to be part of $Dead Nation. I'd prefer if smaller groups were sent, no massive armies. In fact, no groups larger than fiveten. Individuals would be best, of course.
The groups can be anyone. Pirates, investigating soldiers, bounty-hunters, rogues, crazy cultists looking for a world to claim for their own. This is open to all, though a single person posting several times with different nations will eventually be figured out and roasted over an open fire.)