The United Fleets
10-10-2008, 03:24
The Battlesuit ripped a hole in the weak metal wall of the enemy forces. Several rebels jumped and scrambled away, down the trench. The Battlesuit wasted no time and the chaingun took down most of the retreating vermin. A door to a bunker opened up, with a surprised rebel officer, cigar dropping from his mouth, raised his radio. The Battlesuit turned his other arm in the direction of the officer, and behind him. The flamethrower bursted out a maw of blue-white flame, consumeing the man and the rest inside the bunker. As the screams died away, three more Battlesuits entered. "For Rhine!"
The Battlesuits, almost to large for the narrow space at 8 and a half feet, stomped down the trench, filling the fleeing enemys with holes. They reached the exit, and were confronted with the enemy wall. The former Devicer owned wall was strong enough to deflect most fire, and had a shield generator protecting the compound. "Mitchell, Hawking, open the gate. Beranz, your with me." Two Battlesuits moved in the direction of a huge metal door. One put a hand on the console next to it, a stream of wires from the suit worming their way inside, opening the door. The two entered, flamethrowers roasting the enemy inside.
Meanwhile, the other two, made their way in the direction of the large compound. One of the 'suits smashed down the door, raining fire into the corridor with his chaingun. The other one finished off the surprised enemy with his twin plasma mortors. The blue balls bursted into a wave of energy, destroying all in their path. The 'suits entered the building. There was only one direction to go, forward. When they reached the door at the end, it was opened, to the slight surprise of the Pilots, and a barrage of crude rockets smashed into them. When the smoke cleared, the suits entered the large room, unscathed. "Kill them! Kill them now!" Screamed the Commander of the rebel forces. The two Battlesuits took the enemy fire head on, shruging it off. They returned fire with their Plasma Mortors and chainguns. The Nogorath Cannon on the Officer Battlesuit fired, cutting the commander in half, as he ran in a rather cowardly way.
With blood and bodys flung about the room, the remorseless soldiers fired a barrage at the equipment in the room, turned and exited.
When they returned, the gate was open, hundreds of marines chargeing in, and swarming about, wipeing out the remaining men. "One compound down, ten thousand more to go." Breathed the Leader of the Battle suit forces. "Battlemaster, your orders?" Three Battlesuits joined him, ventureing a look at the mop up. "Get your shit together. We go at dawn."
The three others groaned, their voices sounding through not metallic like external speakers, but clear and smooth comm links. "Its dawn now sir." Knowing full well anyway why his CO said that.
The Battlemaster smiled inwardly. "Exactly Hawking. Move it!"
~~~
The Battlefleet pushed ahead, fireing at the orbital defences. The Battlestations, made up of out of date Plasma cannons and mostly mass drivers launching hunks of metal, which was shrugged off easily by the Fleet Pact ships, returned fire, still being tough enough to hold up against the assault. More of a problem now, were the small boarding craft, in thousands, zooming past Pact fighters and constantly attacking the Battlefleets ships. Rag tag squadrons of hundreds of fighters swarmed in and stopped Fleet Pact Squadrons in their tracks, forceing them to target three or four at once.
Hundreds more swarmed up from the planet, being forged together, none to good, but quickly in the Tech Devicer factoriums below. Worse yet were the many Frigate sized ships, fireing with vigor at the Fleet Pact ships. Defended by the Battlestations themselves, the hulking forms shrugging off most of the fire.
"Send in more fighters, try to slip them past those dogs. And get the cruisers to provide more men planet-side." Several men rushed to pass on the orders, manning their consoles with extreme focus. Admiral Warden looked on at his command Holo-Unit. The map like display showed his fleet advanceing...slowly. And the Enemy Positions. Surprised was he that the Orbital Battle was as slow as the battle below. "Sir, boarding craft."
"Repel them with our Battle-Squads. The enemy seems to have not noticed the small number we have sent below. Its good we have plenty aboard."
Below deck, a crude dropship like vessel bounded into the hanger, landing roughly, and dislodgeing thirty or fifty men. They brandished old assault rifles, ones that DID run out of ammo, and axes, sabres, or even crude but sharp looking spears. They were handled with by organized squads of marines, and a Battlesuit or two, being cut down in en-masse. Taking care not to damage anything important, the Marines killed the enemys in vollys of deadly and accurate Plasma fire. Clearing the way, the Marines charged in and pushed the craft out into space, the blue energy screen undisturbed by the discharge of the vessel, protecting the men from a cold death.
OOC:
Okay, same old same old. No blowing up the planet. Yet. Possibly. Maybe. Likely. Yeah likely. You know what to do, yadda yadda yadda. Now the fun part. Have fun of course!
~ TUF
The Battlesuits, almost to large for the narrow space at 8 and a half feet, stomped down the trench, filling the fleeing enemys with holes. They reached the exit, and were confronted with the enemy wall. The former Devicer owned wall was strong enough to deflect most fire, and had a shield generator protecting the compound. "Mitchell, Hawking, open the gate. Beranz, your with me." Two Battlesuits moved in the direction of a huge metal door. One put a hand on the console next to it, a stream of wires from the suit worming their way inside, opening the door. The two entered, flamethrowers roasting the enemy inside.
Meanwhile, the other two, made their way in the direction of the large compound. One of the 'suits smashed down the door, raining fire into the corridor with his chaingun. The other one finished off the surprised enemy with his twin plasma mortors. The blue balls bursted into a wave of energy, destroying all in their path. The 'suits entered the building. There was only one direction to go, forward. When they reached the door at the end, it was opened, to the slight surprise of the Pilots, and a barrage of crude rockets smashed into them. When the smoke cleared, the suits entered the large room, unscathed. "Kill them! Kill them now!" Screamed the Commander of the rebel forces. The two Battlesuits took the enemy fire head on, shruging it off. They returned fire with their Plasma Mortors and chainguns. The Nogorath Cannon on the Officer Battlesuit fired, cutting the commander in half, as he ran in a rather cowardly way.
With blood and bodys flung about the room, the remorseless soldiers fired a barrage at the equipment in the room, turned and exited.
When they returned, the gate was open, hundreds of marines chargeing in, and swarming about, wipeing out the remaining men. "One compound down, ten thousand more to go." Breathed the Leader of the Battle suit forces. "Battlemaster, your orders?" Three Battlesuits joined him, ventureing a look at the mop up. "Get your shit together. We go at dawn."
The three others groaned, their voices sounding through not metallic like external speakers, but clear and smooth comm links. "Its dawn now sir." Knowing full well anyway why his CO said that.
The Battlemaster smiled inwardly. "Exactly Hawking. Move it!"
~~~
The Battlefleet pushed ahead, fireing at the orbital defences. The Battlestations, made up of out of date Plasma cannons and mostly mass drivers launching hunks of metal, which was shrugged off easily by the Fleet Pact ships, returned fire, still being tough enough to hold up against the assault. More of a problem now, were the small boarding craft, in thousands, zooming past Pact fighters and constantly attacking the Battlefleets ships. Rag tag squadrons of hundreds of fighters swarmed in and stopped Fleet Pact Squadrons in their tracks, forceing them to target three or four at once.
Hundreds more swarmed up from the planet, being forged together, none to good, but quickly in the Tech Devicer factoriums below. Worse yet were the many Frigate sized ships, fireing with vigor at the Fleet Pact ships. Defended by the Battlestations themselves, the hulking forms shrugging off most of the fire.
"Send in more fighters, try to slip them past those dogs. And get the cruisers to provide more men planet-side." Several men rushed to pass on the orders, manning their consoles with extreme focus. Admiral Warden looked on at his command Holo-Unit. The map like display showed his fleet advanceing...slowly. And the Enemy Positions. Surprised was he that the Orbital Battle was as slow as the battle below. "Sir, boarding craft."
"Repel them with our Battle-Squads. The enemy seems to have not noticed the small number we have sent below. Its good we have plenty aboard."
Below deck, a crude dropship like vessel bounded into the hanger, landing roughly, and dislodgeing thirty or fifty men. They brandished old assault rifles, ones that DID run out of ammo, and axes, sabres, or even crude but sharp looking spears. They were handled with by organized squads of marines, and a Battlesuit or two, being cut down in en-masse. Taking care not to damage anything important, the Marines killed the enemys in vollys of deadly and accurate Plasma fire. Clearing the way, the Marines charged in and pushed the craft out into space, the blue energy screen undisturbed by the discharge of the vessel, protecting the men from a cold death.
OOC:
Okay, same old same old. No blowing up the planet. Yet. Possibly. Maybe. Likely. Yeah likely. You know what to do, yadda yadda yadda. Now the fun part. Have fun of course!
~ TUF