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Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






Limaesa jungle, 40 miles from landing site Alpha

"I have a bad feeling about this boys..." Iboto said as he hunkered down from the turret and closed the hatch above him. Down below the other soldiers of his squad looked up from the two big metal boxes containing the strange energy weapons they had taken from the Wyld Huntaz and that were tasked to be edlivered to the landing site for shipment to high command. While it was an honorable task, none of them really felt well around the things that had disintegrated whole riders and their mounts as if it was nothing. "Why sarge? Did you see something?" "You hear the birds? Somethings in the woods, and it's not friendly. Button the hatches up and prepare for trouble." He had barely finished speaking when the bullets started clattering on the Chimeras hull armor. The blood of every soldier in their little convoy froze as they heard the booming "WHAAAAAGGGG!!!" cry from the undergrowth, underlined with the sound of massed but chaotic shooting and charging, the answering howl of the imperial lasers and the lower thudthud of hull bolters being fired.

"By the throne get us out of here! They are vracking everywhere!" Okoto cursed, svivelling two of the lasguns of the Chimeras array around wildly, knowing that he would hit something anyway - for whatever good it did against the orkish brutes assaulting them. "Great idea, what would I do without you." the driver exclaimed sarcastically, as the truck in front of them was hit by a rocket and blew up. Frantically trying to drive around it, the APC suddenly buckled up as if it had been kicked by a giant mule and rolled over sideways, its passangers tumbling around like dice in a bucket, falling over each other and seemingly bruising themselves on every hard surface possible. When they finally stopped, it was dark in the APC except of a small flickering red emergency light. Iboto crawled over groaning and readying one the short-stock lasgun of the driver that was out cold, while the rest of his squad tried to find their feet cursing. The sound of battle raged outside but their immediate concern was in whatever had smashed their vehicle so violently. The answer came in the form of massive blow to the side armor, denting the metall plate in the shape of a giant hammer head while a deep rumbling laughter directly outside mocked "Ohhh Huuuumies! Come out and play ya little gits!". Iboto glanced over the chimera, judging their chances and coming to a rather depressing conclusion. They were upside down, so going through the hatches was out of the question, leaving only the large door at the back, but that was already ringing from further blows of the greenskin hoard. Swallowing down his fear he ordered the others "Grenades and power packs. We have to destroy these weapons, if it is the last we do..." Okoto was about to raise a protest, as the sounds of battle outside underlined that their escort was in the last phases of getting slaughtered. They would not go anywhere... and going out with a bang doing their duty sounded much better than what them awaited elsewise. In a mix of reluctance and urgency they threw what grenades and powerpacks they had left together, while Iboto tried to open the boxes with the alien guns with his warknife - all while the big Orkboss and his minions kept hammering the poor Chimera to pieces.

Suddenly they heard a series of wipping cracks, more like the discharge of a powercable than imperial lasguns followed by muffled moans of dying orks and the hammering slowed down for a moment. The confused looks of the last surviving guardsmen seemed to be met by the greenskins outside who seemed to turn around, the biggest brute exclaiming "OI! Whad wuz zat?" He was answered by a rising storm of energy cracks, howling explosions and the roar of some kind of flamer weapon "Go gettem Boyz! WHAAAG!" yelled the boss and outside the sounds of an intense, brutal fight could be heard. Only seconds later the Chimera was shaken again by a series of massive inpacts, as if something big and heavy had been thrown against it and was repeatedly smashed against the metal. They heard the roaring of the Ork boss"GAAA... Ya stupid... ARrrrgg!!! I'll krump ya!!!! RRRraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...." the voice died down as the soldiers inside could hear a combination of snapping cracks and wet, tearing sounds that reminded them very uncomfortably of a chicken pulled asunder piece by piece. Through the cracks in the APCs armor, dark blood, viscera and even worse started sipping into the troop compartment.

A moment later the rear exit door crumbled together like a sheet of aluminum foil crackled together before it was simply torn out of its hinges and pulled away. A looming shape could be seen in the light of the opening as a booming voice adressed them
(Just a link due to Copyright reasons)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kaDHpf2Lcwc


Through the opening Iboto and his comrades faced a bunch of Skitarii in dark purple, almost black robes countered with the bright red of the cult of Mars and a slightly redgolden tinted metal. Amongst them was a 15 feet tall robot, casualy throwing away the heavy Chimera door. He was besmirched from head to toe with the remains of the ork boss, just as the blades of the Sicarians standing in the beack, eagerly slicing and dicing up the half dead greenskins lying around everywhere. Dumbstruck, their mouths hanging open the Skitarii Alpha adressed them "Astra Militarum Personel. Evacuate the vehicle immediatly, fuel system integrity cannot be guaranteed." Iboto snapped a salute, as his squadmates stumbled out, while Okoto loosened the seatbelt of the driver and tried to wrestle him from his seat. "Emperor bless you, that you came here in time. I thought we were done for. I'm Raqib Iboto... Sergant in Astra Militarum terms. 28th Thoth Askari light infantry. We were on route towards Landing Field Alpha..." he stopped realizing that the Alpha wasn't even looking at him and hardly seemed to notice him at all. Instead four of his Skitarii entered the ruin of the Chimera and carefully but speedily removed the grenades from the weapons chests. Chanting Canticles and prayers in binary they heaved the boxes up like sacred reliquaries and carried them outside were the others joined them in a small procession. Iboto hesitated before he voiced his concern "As I said, we have direct orders to bring these boxes to the landing field. They are expected for analysis at high command in orbit." "Your protest is noted." the Alpha replied, turning away. As Iboto grabed his shoulder, the Alpha stoped, looked at the Askaris hand and then faced the Sergant again, his emotionless voice somehow getting a frosty edge "Access denied. Remove your appendix immediatly." Iboto pulled his hand back. From behind, Okoto protested "Marshal Mancini will hear of this!". As the Kastelan robot took a step out of the procession and turned around again, the Alpha looked over the small group of survivors "Your cooperation would have been prefered... but is not necessary..."

Hours later, a recon patrol send to look after the missing convoi reported to the Askari headquarters that it had been ambushed by Orks with all hands lost. Traces at the ambush side indicated that the defenders had been able to at least detonate explosives and destroy the captured enemy weapons, together with the ambushing orks, leaving only burned corpses.

Spoiler:
Forgeworld Kopernika intervenes on Kaliphera Primus to secure important bounty for the glory of the Omnissiah

This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2021/05/19 10:13:58


~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
Made in us
Loyal Necron Lychguard





Working on it

Piece 2
North of Hive Montavius

Pericleia Rhangabe maneuvered her modified Atalan pattern bike through the passes of the mountainous region north of the hive. She was a Merarch, the title bestowed to one whose scouting abilities and speed were second to none, and as a second generation she had also manifested her own blessing. Able to share thoughts and mental impulses with those Cataphracts, the other riders of the Cult, in proximity, their ability to navigate through dangerous terrain was remarkable. The thought sent a pang of guilt through her heart, for as much as they were experts in terrain, there was nothing they could do about this dust storm. With a thought they had all formed one single line and maneuvered to turn around, they had only gotten this far on their abilities, any further and they’d be relying on luck, something that had eluded them since the start of the trip. She would have to report to the Topoteretes about their lack of findings, the Sebastokrator would not be happy, but those thoughts could wait, they had to try and escape this still-building storm first.

Spoiler:
Number given: 73 Number generated: 31 Result: 42, Minor Defeat.
The cult manages to traverse the mountain passes, however due to poor visbility and bad weather they are lucky to be able to find their way back. They have little to report about their findings.


Sebastian Zonaras did what he could to hide his smile and suppress his giddy attitude, after all today was a somber transition of power. The Cult called him Nobelissimos, but the Mercator Nautica of Hive Montavius would now call him Master Nautican. In an unforeseen and rather tragic twist of fate, the former guild leadership found them under a pile of rubble, a pity that such poor craftsmanship could lead to such disaster. Zonaras couldn’t help but let the corner of his mouth curl ever so slightly, he had spent months worming his way through the ranks of the guild, infecting those people he could use, making deals, even going as far as ‘convincing’ a salvaging crew to cut some corners on a certain hab block. As one of the few first generations in the Cult, the Nobelissimos possessed a powerful gift, he was able to use the power and potential of his mind and soul to manifest certain abilities. Telepathy, a certain influence over blood, a degree of mind control, and he even once breathed life back into a dead sump rat.
While his blessing were magnificent, a shadow of the Porphyrogenitor himself, he did not inherit the strength or tactical prowess of his rival brother, but his mental abilities and natural charisma to the infected inspired just as much loyalty. The ceremony over, he sat secluded in his office, paperwork stacked eye level on the desk, he would have to begin amending some documents, change some regulations, shift some supplies. He had already created the route and turned the right people, just a few seals here and there and the Cult would have access to clean water. He would enjoy hanging this over the Sebastokrator’s head for a while.
A rap on the door, three knocks, two taps, and another knock, the coded signal of the Cult’s Protomandators, messengers and assassins all of them.

“You may enter”, Sebastion leaned back in his chair, finally off his feet, and poured himself two small glasses of amasec.

“Nobelissimos,” the Protomandator’s gaunt figure strode in without a sound, “First off, congratulations on the new position, what a stroke of luck to be here, eh?” He winked as Sebastion motioned him to take a seat, handing him one of the glasses and taking the other for himself.

“Wrong place at the wrong time I assure you, at least for them.” He took a sip, taking a moment to enjoy the quality liquor, “If I weren’t aware of your blessings I’d be fairly impressed on you sneaking in here. So to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good news, the other scheme has payed off. Three of the Pentarchs used the building collapse to fill some recently ‘vacated’ postitions in the local Construction Administratum, and thanks to a few dozen new hires, a Chapel is in the works to replace the toppled building. They’re also working on diverging materials to construct us a warehouse for storage, but we’ll see how they manage that.”

“Excellent news indeed my dear friend.” Sebastion was practically beaming as he raised his glass and clinked it against the other in a toast. He would have to sort this paperwork out quickly, there were other sectors to tendril into.


Spoiler:
68 => 13= victory
Your cult manages to get a significant grip on the hive's water guild, after the former leadership is killed in a tragic collaps of a building (surely due to material fatigue *cough cough*. Sone of its members are also raised into secondary Management positions in the Power supply network. (Just a proposition, feel free to come up with an own victory).

<Dynasty> ~10500pts
War Coven of the Coruscating Gaze ~3000pts
Thrice-Damned Plague Corps ~3250pts
Admech (TBN) ~3500pts +30k Bots and Ulator

 
   
Made in ie
Pestilent Plague Marine with Blight Grenade





Cork, Ireland

Flames danced in Tyraxis’ peripheral vision, behind them dozens of warriors cheered his name. The dark, sinister green, the colours of his kabal lay scattered across the courtyard in pools of paint. Beside them, in a bloodied and ill regarded pile, lay the remains of Archon Alistra’s most staunch supporters. Alistra’s followers were now his, and his grip on the raiding party was that much tighter. Harakor had already departed with his followers, ever wary of plots and subterfuge. The Archon of the Bloody Dawn will be a much more difficult to outmaneuver, yet his time has passed and the old eldar knew it. His personal battle barge swooned up to the shattered gate of the Courtyard, flanked by raiders crammed with satisfied kabalites. The remains of both human and avian creatures hang from many of the transports, the toughest of which died hours ago. He rose to depart the ambush site, achieving both of his objectives. Scaur followed in his shadow, ever vigilant, taking his position at one of the mounted splinter cannons. His brethren followed suit. With a flick of his wrist, the steersman darted off rejoining the heavily guarded column, laden with gangs of slaves and lavish loot. He could feel her, gnawing at him. The entire raiding party could. To be in realspace for this amount of time is usually avoided. He drew a long, serrated knife and pulled a trembling slave close. It’s chains clanged and resisted yet it was fruitless. He made an incision just below the shoulder, turning the skin outward. He put the knife to one side as blood began to run down it’s arm. It was sticky with sweat, shaking like a newborn. Tyraxis grabbed the upturned skin with his forefinger and thumb and pulled it down. The skin parted from the flesh like peeling wallpaper, revealing the plump raw flesh beneath. Tyraxis savoured every scream, every whimper. When the slave grew quiet he would pull off more and more. A little bit at a time, prolonging his feast for as long as possible. When he ran out of skin on the arm, he made another incision..and another. Peeling back the slave, layer by layer to see the mortal constraints that lie beneath. Scaur leaned into his ear, putting an end to the ecstasy. “My lord, your scourges have yet to return. The convoy is approaching their last known position.” Tyraxis shoved the shivering slave away, vexed to be denied a full feast. “They located a ruined complex did they not?” “They did my lord” Scaur recalled. “Then that is what lies before us, rally our forces to the head of the column, leave only a token force behind.”

Walls of dark, chiseled stone hugged the raised plateau, presenting a formidable fortress. The parapets were notched and crumbling in places. The walls themselves almost absorbed the light around it. The peaks of buildings rose above the battlements, built from the same material as the outer defences. Strange engravings line the complex, dull and weathered with age. Scourges thrown askew lie scattered across the approach to the citadel. Their augmented wings splintered and broken. A group of Kabalities scanned the beleaguered battlements as they approached, splinter carbines at the ready. They stepped over the fallen scourges, the fallen warrant no respect or remembrance from their kin. The warriors reached a sloped bank of earth. The soil was thin and crumbling. Beneath, onyx steps remained partially buried through the passage of time. They began to climb, taking a few steps at a time. The Sybarite reached the top, conducting a quick sweep he turned to the rest of his squad. That is when all hell broke loose.

A barrage of blue projectiles shot out from the ruins, decimating the exposed warriors in seconds. Avian creatures, the same ones that ambushed them before, emerged from the treeline clashing against Tyraxis’ warriors. More fire appeared around them, thinning his forces more and more by the minute. The spoils they had been escorting took their chance and began to attack with their bare hands, throwing everything they had against their captors. His forces were trapped between maintaining order amongst the slaves and defending themselves. He rose from his barge, his Incubi were swivelling, covering the treeline in poisonous shards. “All forces, close ranks and perform a fighting withdrawal, repeat a fighting withdrawal! Any remaining aerial forces are ro run interference.” The grated voice of Harakor slithers into his ear “What of the slaves? We close ranks and many will run.” Tyraxis pulled out his hexpistol and fired it into a brave alien, its skin turned black as it slumped against the side of his battle barge. “Leave them! They can be rallied later.” A miasma of colours flashed before him as his craft took fire from the steps ahead. Battlesuits adorned in blue grey plating blasted their guns towards him, identifying him as some sort of commander. “Vaeryth! Cut your grotesques lose, pump them full of psychon, I want maximum casualties.” A ring had formed around him and they slowly began to retreat. The ambushers did not follow, yet continued to fire. Runaway slaves, caught in between, were torn to pieces. Large humanoids broke off from the convoy, absorbing a large amount of fire. Once they reached the steps, all enemy fire had ceased altogether. A portion of the slaves had been retained, thanks to Harakor and the Bloody Dawn. They fled towards the coast, with their backs to the sea. Tyraxis would not be ambushed again, no he would not be made a fool of again..

Spoiler:
The Drukhari discovered a set of ruins, however they were ambushed en route.


Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






The connection to High Marshall Mancinis Flag ship, currently in orbit around the civilized World of Tertius, was very britle, plunging into white noise ever so often. The Adepts of the Machine good that where integrated into the Askari regiments did their best, but the hot, humid air had messed with the communication equipment, that had not been the best to begin with. Lord Commissar Jacquard cursed about it, but finally accepted, that it was as good as it good. On her screen she could see not only the video feed from Mancinis staff, but also that the Commanders of the Commonwealth forces on Tertius and the Scions in Fort Macherius were listening in. Frustrated about the poor connection she tried another time "We have routed the main Greenskin concentration in the north of the land mass. Currently setting minefields and traps parallel to..." she checked her slate again "... Obolong river, at height of Fort Macherius. We will try to lure the next tribe in a prepared killing field." The cracking and hissing from the comm feed was far from reassuring, but it seemed this time enough had come through for the command to at least grasp the essentials ".... not wast.... too much ti.... Unexpected Opposi..... Tertius... ukhari... Need Prim..... ecured ASAP... redeploy..... skaris." If it wasn't for the text feed also comming through the order would be rather cryptic, but Valeria got the essentials. Rasul at her side commented reading it "An unknown foe. Drukhari. Has anybody an idea what that is? These bird people we heard about in the briefing?" The other Askari Commanders present shrugged, before Bantu explained, with a tone of dark foreboding "No, what you mean are Kroot. Drukhari is another name for the Dark Eldar." The still puzzled look on most faces reminded Valeria again that her regiments while not unexperienced had almost exclusivly fought Renegades and Heretics in the century of their regimental history, with only few - like Bantu - having some experience with the manifold of other foes of the imperium.

The Tech Adept in charge of the comm station shot her a warning look "My Lord, we don't know how long we can keep the connection." She nodded and hurried to get the most urgent part through, hoping enough would reach the others. "The greenskins have access to highly developed energy weaponry. We suspected T'au Tech, but with the current events it might as well be of Drukhari origin. We secured some of them, but they were lost before we were able to deliver them for study. We'll send pics. Does anybody recognize them an can instruct us what to expect?" She hit the button to deliver the data file, hoping it would get through to the other commanders. Shortly after, the comm array went out with a bang and a small cloud of soot. "Lets just hope that was enough..." she told the others.
[The picture, for the commanders of the Scions and Commonwealth troops]
Spoiler:



A day later Jacquard was contacted via vox by Mahud Omar, who let the outriders patroling the still incomplete minefield in the south of the jungle. "My Lord, we made contact again to Chief M'Geles scouts, back from the recon mission. It seems your apprehension was right. He says the bulk of the greenskins are moving. They left some of their numbers, doing a lot of noise and doing little sorties against our defense line, but he swears the main bulk us gone. If you would force him to guess he would say they are off towards Fort Macherius, with a two days lead on us" As much as Valeria wanted it to be elsewhise, she knew she could trust the "forced guesses" of M'Gele as much as any intelligence report when it came to things like this. The small man, almost jetblack of skin and barely 4 and a half feet high was the chief of a reclusive Pygmy tribe on Thoth - and undisputedly the best scout in the whole regimento. But she dreaded the implication. "Than that is it. We are moving." she answered Omar. Switching the Vox setting she send out the order to the other Askari Commanders "Code Magenta. We are moving towards the fort, double time. Cavalry up front. We have to close in on as soon as we can. 27th to 33rd stay back and hold the minefield. Should the push come here, fall back and harass them as much as possible. Try to get a warning to the Scions at Fort Macherius, and pray they have those PDF troopers prepared."

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/05/23 13:35:42


~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
Made in ie
Pestilent Plague Marine with Blight Grenade





Cork, Ireland

The crimson sun was rising over the scarred landbridge before Fort Macharius. Bathed in battle and promethium, it was a pivotal choke point that ensured the continued sustenance of billions. Abner Grach threw his elbows upon the dark, weather stone. It was cool to his touch, a soothing, comforting sensation. His lasgun laid up against the wall, he dipped the tip of his cap to shield his eyes. The land was blackened and soaked with the blood of savages. Savages. The jungle stood defiant across the landbridge. An anathema to his world. His world was flat, with no hills or mountains, no cliffs or beaches. Kaliphera Primus was flat, with seas of golden corn. To witness such valuable land be swallowed up by trees and savages disgusted him. He pulled at the carapace armour sitting awkwardly on his shoulder. It was too big for him, but it was all the militia had on hand. Three times in recent memory the orkz had thrown themselves against these walls and three times they had been pushed back. So Abner's sergeant had boasted.

The stormtroopers had been training them, in an attempt that if the orkz tried a fourth time that they might be able to hit something. Abner must admit that their mere presence inspired them. They carried more confidence while conducting their drills. More focused when staring down the iron sights of their rifles. More dutiful while out on patrol. Regardless of whether their aim had improved since the arrival of the Imperium's special forces, it won't be for lack of trying. Down below a group of Tempestus Scions were laying explosives in the deluge of mud and water. Armed with shovels and rudimentary explosive wire, they laid lines of explosives dug like trenches rippling out across the landbridge. Abner strained his eyes as he peered out at the troopers, raising a hand to blot out the rising suns glare. He swore he saw something move between the trees at the far end of the landbridge, then one of the trees twitched. Then another. The jungle itself was swaying. It was leaving something through.

Abner scooped up his rifle, he wasn't sure what he would do at this range but he wanted to be ready just in case. Large, green humanoids emerged from the treeline, painted on a myriad of different colours. From Abner's recent drills he knew their formation was abysmal, their weapons of bone and stone crude. The Scions reared their heads and began a hasty retreat through the landbridge, more akin to a bog thanks to the recebt rainfall. What could be considered the vanguard of the orkz forces couldn't help but pursuit the exposed humans throwing caution and whatever limited strategy their warboss wished to employ to the wind. Abner braced his rifle on top of the wall, orders were being given throughout the inner courtyard as the chapel's bells rallied the defenders of Fort Macharius to muster. Fellow militiamen followed suit, lining up on the wall next to Abner, rifles bracing on the wall for stability. Another facet to improve their shot. Private security teams moved to defend the main gate, their leader was supposedly related to one of the Corporation executives. They refused to mingle with the militia, only communicating with the Scions when necessary, although rumours of overheard arguments between the two were rife in the fort. The Stormtroopers dispersed themselves amongst various sections of the wall in small fireteams, attempting to instill a sense of discipline and leadership along the soon to be besieged walls. Artillery battery's drown out the chapel's bells as the treeline was pummeled with the skies fury.

The retreating Scions rushed through the gate, trailing a spool of wire behind them. The massive gates slammed shut behind them almost leaving a portion of the squad on the wrong side. A broadcast from the central vox tower rang out over the roars of the approaching Ork horde who now we're running blindly through the landbridge, edging closer and closer into range. Intermittent with artillery barrages the broadcast screeched "All forces, permission to engage. The emperor protects." The stormtrooper closest to Abner repeated the order at the top of his lungs "Fire at will!" Volleys of las fire engulfed the landbridge and the orkish swarm within in. Dressed in rigged animal skins, many fell to the opening volley. Somewhere near the main gate, a heavy bolter roared, cutting down swathes of Xenos in its wake. "Again!" Roared the Scion as he fired a blast from his hellgun. The broadcast rang out again over the cacophony of battle "light the charges, let the ground swallow them whole."

There was a delay to that order as Abner fired the remains of his power pack. Strange, green energy fired from somewhere in the mass of orkz, disintegrating entire portions of the main gate's parapets. The heavy bolter fell silent. A momentary silence hung over the fort as everyone processed the energy these savages managed to fire. The unmistakable hiss of explosive wire being armed ran through the gate and out into the orkz themselves. The first trench threw everything standing on top of it into the air. Water, dirt and Ork. The second trench gave and the third. Decimating the entire Ork force. Abner and his militia held their rifles in the air as the orkz ran for the safety of the treeline, that is when the vox returned for the final time. "All artillery batteries fire at the treeline."

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/05/28 09:34:50


Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in au
Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot







Coronel Roslin climbed out of the turret of the armoured car as the column of trucks and tanks entered fort Nighthall. It had been an uneventful trip through and up to the mountain pass. When her unit had departed the strike force had been moving from its makeshift camp to establish itself north of New Mallus. The greeting at Nighthall could not have been warmer by the garrison, soldiers stood-to at their posts with relieved smiles and refugees crowded close to the convoy.
As the trucks unloaded the commonwealth troops and supplies they took away loads of dirty and terrified refugees. It’d work like clock work until the for was unburdened of its excess population. She saw the Kalipheran car pull up and capture laden troopers laden propaganda personnel spilled out. It left a strange feeling in her stomach, it always did. She was there to do a job, terrified refugees were in the way cluttering up the fortress and there was no way in the emperor’s mercy would they be sent back out to be taken by the xenos scum.
Things could not have run smoother. As agreed, the garrison had added several revetments for the field guns that had been assigned to her and her soldiers began bolstering the defences with blast walls.
She dismounted the flag of the Commonweath Combined 116th Cavalry regiment from its holder on the back of the turret and passed it down to colour sergeant Stykes to hoist in the centre of the fort alongside that of the garrison.
“Coronel A and B company of the armoured battalion are ready for operations.”
“Good.” She replied surprised. Things were running well.

Field Marshal Kendal looked at the report. He hated having to re-encamp, but their position was much superior than the ad-hoc position they’d had to take after the disaster in New Mallus. He bit his lip and checked over the current intel reports that had been placed on his desk.
Someone’s feet slapped the floor of the hall outside his door.
He saw the shadows of Garos’s feet behind his door and he could almost tell what the trooper was going to say before he did.
Garos entered the room and put a new report on his desk“Sir, the battle group under Coronel Roslin Clarke has arrived in Nighthall and is digging in and beginning evacuation of the refugee population there. There is also pressing transmission from command.”
“Put a link through to my general staff.” He frowned at the thing.
He opened the transmission link and listened to the Askari commander make their report. Afterwards he was confronted with the image of an undeniably xenos weapon. He did not have to read much into the image to know it was bad news. Some kind of powerful energy weapon by the looks.
It was familiar somehow.
“And could you try and dig up a copy of Franz Tallen’s ‘Manual on combating xenos warriors.’
It’d be good to brush up on, especially with the Tau, ork, dark eldar and whatever else’s presence.
“I might own a copy myself.” Came a voice at the door, which had not been preceded by the slightest sound of a footstep, Kendal nearly jumped out of his skin, and he a sneaking suspicion that Hargrave had more than just involved himself with the hunting of the terrorists.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/05/30 12:53:46


   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






Fort Macherius – Kaliphera Primus

While the thick walls of the fort still held, the ferocity of the Greenskins attacks was astonishing. Wave after wave branded against the battered rockcrete, blasting away at the defenders on top of the walls, who answered in kind with massed fusillades of lasgun fire. While the training in marksmanship the militiamen and PDF soldiers had received by the 85th seemed unnecessary in face of the unending horde of targets in front of them, their presence and discipline had shown to be invaluable in keeping them from breaking under the pressure. The Fort had held back two large invasions before, but this was different. This time the Orks were driven, even kind of organized… and they had advanced weaponry. Half of the heavy weapons teams on this stretch of the wall had been lost to the strange green beam atomizing their handlers and even worse, now they seemed to bring up witchcraft to finally tip the balance in their favor.

“What the feth are they doing over there?” Private Strelinski yelled over the booming noise of gunfire, pointing over to a huddle of particularly big and savage looking brutes. They were huddling around a smaller ork, who was covered in rags of countless screaming colors, with foam gushing from between his tusks and his eyes rolled back so that only the white was visible. He seemed to mutter something over and over again in their guttural grunting language and looked even more insane than the rest of them. “Pretty sure, we don’t want to find out. Bring him down!” answered the Sergant Taggert, but the Maniac was out of reach of their lasguns. “Miuncyk, Luska! Get that Auto’ over her ASAP!” he screamed, the addressed two soldiers frantically hurrying over the heavy weapon. Before they could finish, another green beam of energy hit the battlement they were standing behind, collapsing a chunk of the wall several tons heavy onto the raging orks down below. Bereft of their cover, the two gunners tried to shift the cannon again, as Luskas was torn to shreds by a burst of shoota fire from the vile Xenos. Strelinski sprinted over and took his place in an instant, finally placing the heavy weapon and smashing a drum magazine in, as Miuncyk took aim. All of a sudden, a thundering crack rang over the battlefield, as if a giant had clapped his hands and the brutes were gone, leaving nothing than a flat, scorched crater where they had stood just a moment ago. A cheer raised from the militiamen and PDF soldiers, but turned into panicked screaming as two dozen greenskins materialized amongst their midst and started slaughtering them with their crude weapons. Just as the defenders began to brake, they assailants came under heavy, howling, highly accurate lasfire, punching through their hides and dispatching them one by one. Several fire teams of the 85th engaged and managed to dispatch them in bloody close quarters fighting, but not before 50 defenders lay dead or dying, twice as many wounded and the others shaken to the brink of giving up. Strelinski crawled out from under the carcass of one of the dead orks, amazed that he was still alive and looked in the carnage for a Lasgun he could use, finding a long-las beside a dead sniper instead. He was running on adrenalin and instinct, his body still deciding that is was “fight” not “flight”, which earned him the merest hint of a respectful nod by one of the Scions, as fresh troopers reinforced the wall.

Nonetheless, they had been lucky. If the orks pulled this of again and again… they might just succeed where their ancestors didn’t. Strelinski flinched as he heard the thunderclap again, but this time it seemed to be followed by another one immediately afterwards and at the same location, leaving another bunch of brutes surrounding a confused Weirdboy who shook a large bone he used as staff and totem and hit it like you would a broken TV-remote. From the jungle on the other side of the land bridge, the sound of shots and explosions got louder, underlaid with the characteristic high-pitched cracking of las-weapons. To their relieve, the defenders of the fort could make out hundreds of Imperial vehicles and their infantry support, engaging the Orks from the east and putting them in a pincer. Strelinski took up the long-las for a better look – Imperial Guard judging by the Aquilas on their light tanks and sentinels, but lots of the foot soldiers dressed in a kind of tribal garment instead of standard fatigues. Another ray of green energy cut through his field of view towards the newcomers, aiming for an approaching Hellhound to wreak havoc amongst them, but instead of exploding the flame tank, it lighted up an invisible cupola around the imperials in its malicious light. Through his scope the private made out its source. In between the approaching soldiers stood… people… covered in tattoos and painted markings, shaking totems, their eyes glowing in a ghostly blueish-white – just like human versions of the orkish witches. Strelinski made the sign of the Aquila to ward of evil, unsure what to think about this kind of help. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see the masked face of one of the scions “Keep firing son, or find someone who will and give him your gun.” He swallowed and nodded, taking aim again.

As the battle raged on in the material world, so did the clash of those touched by the immaterium, the Wyrdvanes of the Askaris – Witchdoctors and Shamans of their tribes – building barriers and mending tears in the warp, where the Weirdboys tried to break the thin veil between both. At Dawn of the next day, the sun went up over a devastated, scorched stretch of land, covered in corpses of both sides. The water bordering the land bridge was red with blood and the sky black with smoke from burning wracks. The Bloodied Gitz had fought to the end, inflicting heavy casualties, but the Imperials had prevailed. Fort Macherius still guarded the fertile, rolling fields that feed billions troughout the system… and most of the Askaris melted back into the jungle.

A detail of paramedics hastily carried a stretcher, through the forts inner wards towards the emergency room of the lazarett, on it the battered and broken body of Serasker Rasul al’Ankra who had led the Askaries counterattack. When his Salamander blew up he had lost his crew… a leg… an eye… a lung – a small price for winning such a decisive battle. Before slipping away into unconsciousness due to bloodloss and pain he thought to himself “two done, one to go…”

Spoiler:
The Bloodied Gits are put in a pincer attack and destroyed, but inflict heavy casualties. Most of the Askaris Motorpool is destroyed, Serasker (General) Rasul al’Ankra was heavily wounded and will need extensive augmetics.


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Heroic Senior Officer





Krieg! What a hole...

Fort Macherius – Kaliphera Primus

With Riley's Fist in orbit above them, running incessant drills and making ready to strike at a target of opportunity, and Castella deep in the jungle in charge of overseeing the infiltration teams in charge of pointing said targets of opportunity, Gallus was almost bored by the lack of animosity. The PDF treated the Scions with respect, some, perphaps, bordering on awe, byt the Stormtroopers made little efforts to mingle with the locals, their efforts were entirely spent with running them through marksmanship drills. For this, the 85th snipers were put to the task, under the supervision of more experienced Tempestors who would facilitate the teaching. This left Castella with only four teams to deploy, as such, assassinations via Hellshots would be unlikely.

A report was on his desk, and he was about halfway through, when the first noise of the attack ruined the man's good mood. The PDF had been improving, it seemed his order not to treat them like new recruits, and thus no attempts were made by the elite soldiers to break the locals and train them to the excrutiating Scion standards, all the better, then, the less experienced troops wouldn't hold a grudge against his men. A message from one of his senior Tempestors confirmed the noises he heard weren't simply made by a careless trooper, and the Prime gave a reply, jumping into action. Gallus reached for the large helmet that completed his armor and locked in on, why a Battalion so focused on reconaissance was gifted such a bulky armor was beyond him, but the Prime couldn't deny that it saved his lift countless times. Perhaps his time digging a hole and watching an objective for hours were behind him. Then came the power fist, and a shudder ran through him. The current situation reminded him a little too much of Crius, defending a position with local forces, and how badly it had gone then. He suppressed the thoughts and headed outside at a swift pace, he had already established an area to meet up with his platoon and section leaders in case of an attack.

''Orks are attacking in force, sir!'' A Tempestor, Tantedas, reported ''There have been unconfirmed reports of the presence of those strange weapons, I've ordered my men to split in pairs and support the locals, as well as make an attempt to get a good view of whatever it is the Orks are using on their mono's, but nothing conclusive so far.''

''Two men will do, have the Tempestors shadow the sargeants and advise, make sure they're ready to take over if need be. Snipers stay out of sight and focus on disabling their new weapons, be it by killing the crew or damaging the weapons'' The Prime gave a quick set of orders ''Make sure they use the right weapons on the right targets, not sense in having a lascannon team try and thin a charging horde of Greenskins, have them aim at the enemy own heavy weapons''

The small cadre of commanders acknowledged his orders and left the small building they had used for the impromptu briefing, the sound of battle was intensifying as each man and woman transmitted the orders to their respective platooons. Gallus himself joined his command squad, flanked by two veterans of the Battalion carrying Volleyguns, his own personal vox-man, or woman, in that case, and a Scion trained extensively in the art of the Medicae, just in case. He would remain out of the fight, to ensure his troops were all deployed as planned and coordinate further shuffling of men, sending more Scions to plug gaps where needed. Things were going... well they weren't overwhelmed yet, and casualties were mounting at numbers slightly below expectations. That was when the thunderclap started. Reports from Orks teleporting into their lines flooded him, forcing the Tempestor Prime to commit two of the platoons kept in reserve, sending them at squad level to push back the Greenskins away from Fort Macherius. One such thunderclap sounded dangerously close. A clump of Orks was suddenly uncomfortably close to the Scion leader, and his two bodyguards quickly opened fire in the green mass, sending achingly bright yellow beams cutting through the charging Orks. Despite the fusillade, two of the large Xenos barreled past the Scions who were ordered to step aside, their bulky weapons unsuitable for the close combat that was about to take place.

Gallus fired the last shot of plasma pistol hydrogen pack, the blue glob of energy vaporized the face of one Ork, but the other closed the gap on the Prime, and smacked him with its heavy axe. The reinforced void suit he was wearing, an armor dating back to the time of the Solar Auxilia. It held true against the crude weapon, but the blow did prevent Gallus from striking back with his powerfist, instead, he made good use of the burning hot pistol in his right hand to shove it in the face of his opponent, creating just enough time and space to smash the Ork chest to a pulp. With the last of his nearby foe defeated, the Prime went back to to his command, catching up with demands and reports that were sent to his Slate during the short fight, leaving it to his bodyguards to ensure the Orks were dead for good.

Member of 40k Montreal There is only war in Montreal
Primarchs are a mistake
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Savageconvoy wrote:
Snookie gives birth to Heavy Gun drone squad. Someone says they are overpowered. World ends.

 
   
Made in ie
Pestilent Plague Marine with Blight Grenade





Cork, Ireland

The Fraustivan Plaza had filled up quickly once the PDF pulled back from their posts and allowed the masses in. Fire warriors walked amongst the crowds, funneling them into neat blocks of bodies. Bobbing drones scanned hundreds of faces, looking for potential threats. Prior to the PDF’s departure, T’au security teams fanned out across the plaza, followed by Water Caste dignitaries and Earth Caste engineers. When the masses arrived, they were met by the T’au themselves, not the Imperium. A large cogitator spun a symbol of the greater good in a serene blue projection. The color and presentation of which was devised by the Water Caste, experts in the art of diplomacy and propaganda. Por’O Sa’cea Ari’asha ran her hands down her long, flowing robes. Blue - grey silks adorned with orange markings of her sept, it was a uniform that had soothed many tempers. She adjusted her voice amplifier for the fifth time. She glanced up at the cogitator for the seventh. The masses looked at her, they flocked to her call to hear her speech, they flocked to embrace the Greater Good. And she was prepared to be their shepherd on the first steps of this new journey. “I thank you for joining us today, I know that your time is precious.” she took a moment to gather her thoughts. A new voice spoke into her ear. “Por’O Ari’asha the hunter cadre are ready to receive your transmission”. “I have brought you all here to share news with you all. It is good news. Tonight on behalf of the T’au empire I wish to share with you, the gift of Justice!” With a strong gesture, Ari’asha thrusted her hands upward towards the cogitator.

The projection fluttered and the hunter cadre emerged. Fire warriors and battle suits stood valiantly around a pile of corpses. Tall figures in dark, spiked armour. Such figures were recognisable to the crowd thanks to video feed from Krannar. The figures were set alight as the Tau stood stoically around their kill. The drone receiving the transmission bopped intermittently. Shadows writhed and withered from the bright flame, now a bonfire of melting flesh and bone. The crowd cheered. The Tau Empire had brought them Justice while the Imperium simply stood by. This was exactly what Ari'asha needed to bring the Kaliphera system into the empire. The Imperium's own hubris will cost them dearly. There was commotion off screen. Fire warriors in shot broke off their poses and began to raise their pulse rifles. Suddenly the fire warriors in the drone's shot were pulled back into the shadows. Shouts of alarm could be heard followed immediately by gunfire. Dark beams of energy targeted the battlesuits, which managed to return a few volleys of its own before being torn apart. The crowd were aghast, unable to believe what they were seeing. The drone fell down to the ground, as kroot rushed somewhere out of shot. More dark figures emerged. They pushed through the Tau defenders and made the ruins their own. These were soon followed by ships floating off the ground. The ruins must have been bulging, yet more and more forces crammed themselves inside. A lone figure stepped in front of the shot, peering down at the drone. It tilted it's armoured face slightly and then proceeded to step on it. The transmission died and the crowd were in uproar. Cries for justice were louder now than they ever were before. The fire warriors struggled to keep the populace at bay. A splinter group rushed one of the cadres, labelling them as liars. They attacked with knives and pipes.They were gunned down. The crowd began to flee at the opening sound of gunfire. Por'O Ari'asha's hands found her throbbing temples. She knew she had lost them.

Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in au
Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot







Field Marshal Kendal watched the battle group moving out onto the Nicovian plains. Kiro’s armoured brigade led the way with Hargrave and the Klomn knights acting as aggressive reconnaissance. The battle group moved quickly, each unit close enough to support the other in the case of a lightning strike by the foe.

It was clear they were not an easy target and his manual told him to be more concerned with his lines of supply and that was his main concern. If the xenos showed up he did not doubt Hargrave’s knights and Kiro’s heavy tanks would be able to punish them, but if they cut his supply line, the whole task force would be in peril.

The odd terrified refugee hurried past the column in a vehicle or on foot, but they were sparse out here. Part of him wondered how many had suffered the cruel fate of being taken by the xenos, he shut the thought out and told himself he was here to get to grips with the foe.
A wing of PDF lightnings roared overhead. They swarmed above like angry bees. The governor had been on the vox that morning, and had reported a change in the atmosphere in New Mallus, which Kendal had only believed after Tradjan had verified the information, a descisive victory could turn it all around.


Sir Kjani scanned the treeline for movement as Amarok carried her forwards. Her hunting pack was well ahead of the advance. They moved forwards a hundred metres then she felt something was close.
She never questioned her instincts so she paused the pack.
“Enemy reconnaissance party spotted eight hundred metres. They have not spotted us yet.” Came Sir Listren’s voice over the vox. A moment later his mech Halgrinnax tagged the targets.
Two light class anti-gravity vehicles and a small party, that were moving towards them.
“Engaging.” She raised the rotor cannon towards the first skimmer and fired a short burst. The xenos vessel was perforated in the hailstorm of shot and dropped to the ground.
The other vessel disappeared from tagging, and scattered Amarok’s targeting with some kind of chaff, with some xenos tricks. Halgrinnax fired a burst of auto cannon fire so she followed the tracers and fired a burst with the rotor cannon.
The hunting pack was pressing forwards carefully. It was like the enemy to draw them into a trap.
As Amarok reached the tree-line the enemy had sheltered in she could see the enemy distant, flying back towards the Tavornis Strip, she knew the next engagement would not be so easy.
Spoiler:
The 4th Legion Kaliphera Task Force moves into the Nicovian Plains in force and, their screening forces sucsessfully brush aside Drukhari recon parties.

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2021/06/12 00:59:11


   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






The broadcast Lieutenant Pelligrini had put together with the material the Askari commissars had collected for him was streamed on the main channels repeatedly – a well-made piece of propaganda, aiming to illustrate the good work the imperial soldiers did on Kaliphera Primus against the greenskin menace. He had to give it to Lord Commissar Jacquard, she knew how to get some rousing, patriotic pics and tell a story with them. The clip had everything: threatening monstrous Xenos and the atrocities committed by them, brave PDF troopers holding their own to stem the tide and valorous Askari allies coming to their aid in the epic looking “third battle for Fort Macherius”. Working together they had decided to go for a rather gritty tone, not hiding away the dire cost of the battle, highlighting the sacrificies the defenders and imperials had to make. The broadcast loosely followed the perspective of a dashing and rather attractive looking PDF captain fighting on the battlements getting shot at but still battling on, until finally being involved in the brutal close quarters fighting that brought down a particularly big ork that was pictured as the leading warboss. Experienced camera, cutting and editing work had done their part, where reality had not been up to it, changing the order of events to “how it should have been” to be more dramatic. On the insistence of Jacquard the overall tone was very much in favor out the PDF, overestimating their contribution and picturing the Imperials as welcome support - a gamble to bolster the resolve of the wavering local forces. The piece ended with the dashing hero PDF captain rising an imperial banner on a heap of dead orks, flanked by a battle hardened veteran in a shemagh and a towering almost 7 feet tall women in the tribal garments of the regiments N’Go warriors brandishing a two handed kopesh.

Overall a solid piece and one of the better works Pelligrini had done in his carrier… but unfortunately a failure he admitted to himself sighing sadly. While an honest effort, it had failed to strike the right tone to reach the hearts of the populace. The danger the orks had posed for the whole systems food supply had always been an abstract distant thing and few believed that Fort Macherius, that had held them back for over a century had been in real danger of being overrun. And now they suffered from success as the supplies had never even dwindled thanks to the Imperials quick response, so the public stayed well fed and ignorant. Ridiculously even on Primus itself lots of the workers on the farms far away from the Fort shared this opinion. Even worse the T’au sympathizers in the hives on Quartus had started to spin the whole story around, illustrating it as the Imperium showing its true colors: being more focused on genociding some “harmless” feral Xenos tribes on the agriworld instead of protecting the citizens of Kaliphera against the vile Drukhari slaughtering and enslaving them – other than the T’au empire itself that was obviously quite involved there.

… it happened. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. Time to cut the losses, pull back the broadcast and stop the image campaign that had been in the making. Back to the drawing board…

~6550 build and painted
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Made in ie
Pestilent Plague Marine with Blight Grenade





Cork, Ireland


Grains of dust fell down on top of Tyraxis’ shoulder as the ancient structure withstood yet another bombardment. He flicked it off the green skin cloak that hung from his shoulders with a snarl. The ruins would not stand for much longer and neither would his forces. They all felt her. She is always there. Eternally gnawing. Eternally savouring their souls. Damnation awaited them all. Tyraxis would not meet it today. “What is the status of the Webway gate?” he demanded. Vaeryth’s usually long, thin form was hunched over, inspecting some lower panel of the portal. Much like the rest of his kin, Vaeryth hosted a slew of self-inflicted modifications to his flesh. Such was their art and what greater opportunity to showcase one's skill of fleshcrafting than on oneself? All four of his arms tinkered restlessly. Occasionally one of them would reach down for a tool on his thinned waist. Another weapon to prod the webway gate to awaken. He had been there for what must have been close to an hour, much to Tyraxis’ perturbation. Vaeryth turned to face the Archon. The face was tight. The nose pointed and dominated the haemonculus’ facial features. It hung over protruded cheekbones and a permanent grin. “The warp stabilizers are in a critical condition, I might be able to restore them to provide limited functionality but that will take some time.” The ruins shuddered again, dowsing the Drukhari in dust. The dulled sound of pulse rifles and splinter carbines exchanging fire permeated the room. The twin linked jets of flame ran up across Tyraxis’ visage as he pulled out his venom blade. “Then we shall buy the time you need Vaeryth, do not dally. Trueborn to me!”

Shas’Ui Sacea Oxaan,adjusted the parameters on his rangefinder as he scanned the battlements for his prize. Mighty broadside battlesuits pounded the fortress with mounted pulse cannons, the ground shaking underneath their entrenched talons. Fresh troops poured out of the inner keep. Oxaan could see that these warriors' armour was more exquisite and rare. Bodyguards, he knew. He swayed back and forth, zooming in with his rangefinder. This was the opening the Shas’O was waiting for. The silent hunter gets the prey. There. Surrounded by his greatest warriors stood a gallant figure waving about a sword, basked in venomous green his very eyes spouted fire. “A great demon” Oxaan remarked to himself. “And a fine hunt too.” He readied his fireteam, “We have identified the commander of the enemy’s forces. The Shas’O has decided that we will follow the teachings of Mont’ka. We shall deploy overwhelming force. Kroot carnivore squads will tie up the enemies in the target’s immediate vicinity. Broadside battlesuits and hammerhead gunships will lie in support. With the enemy distracted we shall strike out at our true prey. With the alpha destroyed the rest of the pack will turn on itself and the battle will be won. Any questions?” His team fell silent, they had carried out similar orders in the past and after today will do so again. “Good, assemble for deployment immediately”

The ruins had become a prison more than a fortress. It was bleeding his forces dry. Sapping the physical strength of his warriors while She Who Thirsts feeds off their souls. Such a position was untenable, they all knew that. They could all feel it. Harakor suggested sallying out on the Ravagers and jetbikes, a lightning strike to break the back of the offensive. Tyraxis turned it down immediately. The rest of the raiding party would be crippled in terms of both mobility and firepower if that plan ran afoul..which they seem to be doing as of late. Blasts of pulse fire chipped clumps of mossy stone free from the decrepit structure, showering it’s defenders in dangerous debris. A Dracon grabbed a nearby warrior with a dark lance and forced him to alter his aim to a gathering formation of Tau gunships. “All lances focus on those gunships, now!” Tyraxis roared, raising his blade to direct the fusilade. “Fire” A dozen dark beams tore across the heads of his warriors, piercing the shields and hulls of the Hammerhead gunships. Their mighty cannons swivelled and attempted to return fire, shattering many archways and statues that have stood for untold millennia. The clash of blades rang out below as Tyraxis risked a glance. Kroot warriors leaped up onto the battlements, engaging his beleaguered warriors with tooth, claw and stave. Even with their monomolecular blades he knew they were outmatched. Tyraxis turned to his armoured shadow, Scaur. “Relieve the warriors on the battlements, Scaur, go.” The lumbering Incubus titled his head for a moment. “I will be fine, now go quickly while the battle remains in our favour.” With a quick nod he gathered his Incubi and headed down into the frey. His dark lances were preparing to fire again, another salvo from those gunships might bring these walls down around them and worse still, damage the gate even further. “All lances, fire!” The tau lines were washed with beams of dark matter quickly followed by smoke and fire. “Adjust your fire to the battlesuits, let them have no reprieve!” A number of lights blinded Tyraxis’ vision for a moment and then he found himself stumbling, hands rushing up to shield his eyes. Even blinded he could hear the dying screams and immediate impact of pulse fire. They were trying to kill him. Something hit him in the shoulder which knocked him back to the ground. His trueborn were upon him in a moment, dragging him back towards the keep. A roar of fire drowned the sounds of battle and Tyraxis knew that the Tau possessed no weapon that could make that thunder...the Imperium had found them.

Spoiler:
Battle of the Webway Ruins: Drukhari part One


Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in au
Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot







General Kiro could hear the sound of the xenos energy weapons belatedly accompanying the flashes around the strange ruins in the distance. His mechanised force had had to rush into position to strike and the initial bombardment had to be more cursory than he’d like. He listened to his battalions sign off as they reached their starting positions. A line of heavy infantry fighting vehicles led the way backed up by malcadors from the 85th Breakthrough tank regiment as behind him the griffins and howitzers started their bombardment.
Cavalry elements of Lisander’s force and count Hargrave’s knights were casting a net around the embattled enemy forces. It was his job to break them.
He knew the Tau, it was against them that his tank had been brewed up when he’d been burned and lost his limbs. This time his men would press into them, grab them by the belt and not let go. His malcador pressed forwards with the others.
Enemy fire was coming back towards him. Probably due to the imperial flag flying from the back of his turret.
His tanks were firing back in reply, and the IFVs were pressing forwards to roll into the enemy lines. The infantry fired from the shelter of the steel hulls and would only disembark once they were among the enemy. It would be close work with grenades, bayonets and shotguns.
He checked his binoculars. “Enemy battle suits a thousand metres.” They were entrenched but facing and firing away from the imperial forces. It’d make it a lot easier if they could be dealt with. He commanded his gunner to mark them with tracer fire from the co-axle heavy stubber.
“Alpha and Delta troop, take out those entrenched battle suits. Fire with all weapons.”

Spoiler:
Battle of the webway Commonwealth task force part 1

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2021/06/30 06:52:15


   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






The nightsky above was full of stars and the crescents of both small moons poured their light on the dense jungle vegetation of the Nalita Cove. Between the looming threes and thick undergrowth, countless dark figures were moving in formations. Advancing in sections, covering each other, searching… hunting in the dark. What little experience the Askaris had been able to gain against the Bloodied Gitz and Wyld Huntaz was to be put to the test, their shamans and witchdoctors closely embedded into the divisions of light infantry, while the light cavalry remaining covered the flanks and acted as reserve. Attacking at night was kind of a gamble. It had worked well enough last time, but that might only have been luck as the Greenskins did not seem to have that much trouble seeing in the dark. The strange thing was though… the silence in front of them. As the fifth platoon kneeled down again, to wait for the others to move up, sergant Shakus men met his gaze with a worrying look. “I can already smell the sea...” his second Palu whispered. “Where the throne are they?” Shaku shrugged, sharing the tension in his men. They had combed the whole jungle, maybe a couple of the Greenskins slipped their line, but surely not the whole force? That could not have happened, could it? “They have to be here somewhere. Keep sharp guys.”

Suddenly they heard something in front of them, the characteristic modulating wistle of a Queto bird from their homeplanet, the designated call sign for that night. Still their lasguns were raised, as the scout Tobalo slid through the dew-wet foliage – much to his dismay. With a severe look he held up his hands “Don’t loose your pants, it’s me. Sarge? There’s something you need to see…”

-------------------------
Another flicker – as they got used to from the outdated patched up Vox equipment of the Askaris - went through the transmission of King Bantu and his staff, as he finished his report to the Commanders of the other imperial forces. Marshal Mancini had a red flush in her face and barely covered her furiosity. “How on Terra could you loose them? You told us your men were adapt at jungle warfare, how could a Greenskin force this size slip through your lines unnoticed?!?!” She seemed on the brink of considering to order a summary execution of the failing general, who looked miserable enough as it was. “If they really slipped through, we take full responsibility. But with all due respect, we were careful. I can’t explain where they are gone, but they did not get past us.” “Do you think the greenskins suddenly grew wings?” Mancini replied with cold sarcasm. “You got the easiest task of our battlegroups and still…” another rune flashed, announcing an incoming call from Primus – with General Rasuls identy code. “We are not finished with this.” Mancini added grudgingly towards Bantu, before accepting the incoming call. When the pictcast of the Senior Officer of the Askari Cavalry came up, he was not easy to recognize. A large augmetic covered the burned right side of his face, including his eye, his shoulder and arm were bandanged and a violet-green haematoma discolored his left temple. “General Rasul, glad to have you back. I trust your medical advisor has given you leave for duty again?” Mancini inquired. “I’m glad to be back too, thank you your ladyship.” replied the Magrhebian in the tone implying that he would just assume he didn’t heard her question and thus would not have to lie in her face directly. “There’s something you need to see…” The transmission changed as the camera was turned around and pictured something that looked like a Ork body hanging from the bark of a three, as if his head was locked in a whole on the trunk. “First we thought he was thrown there by some massive force, but his body is intact, not like he really hit that tree. It looks like he… just materialized right there. And there is more.” Another series of pictures were transmitted. Orks half sunken into boulders of stone, two orks fused together, something that looked as if a greenskin had been turned inside out. Rasul came back on “However they did it, I think the Xenos have experimented with some form of teleportation device. And from the looks of it, they managed to make it work. Be advised, we have no idea where they might have landed. They could show up anywhere.”

Marshal Mancini looked puzzled, yet still doubtfull, as one of the Navy liason officers in the conference room awkwardly lifted his hand “My Lady… We didn’t want to trouble you with this, but there was something strange during the last standard cycle that might be connected to this. The destroyer “Cadias Wrath” reported receiving a… pollution by biological matter. Something organic had hit one of their armored vision ports while patrolling between Primus and Tertius. The clean up crew implied that it looked as if an Ork had been floating right in open space. We did not take it seriously but in light of this development…” Mancini put her hand to her brow in an act of resignation “Holy throne… OK, end out a warning to all our assets. All reports of unknown Xenos activity throughout the system are to be immediately reported. Let’s just hope they are now the T’aus Problem and not ours anymore…”


Spoiler:
The Askaris suffered a major defeat while attacking the last of the Ork concentrations on Primus. No Orks were found. The regiments reputation in the eyes of the command stuff is compromised.


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Heroic Senior Officer





Krieg! What a hole...

Lasoor Wilds

Castella grunted in displeasure. The climate of Sable wasn't anything near this stuffy, and the jungle heat made her uniform scratch her back constantly, which lead to an unpleasant burning sensation. The Scions had dropped three days ago, with little supplies, they weren't sent to fight, but to assassinate, and three sniper detachments were under her command, with two more squads solely tasked to cover ground and report movement from the Greenskins. The Scions had forgone their armor for the sake of swiftness and ease of movement in the dense jungle. They kept their helmets and masks, however, which provided useful tools for gathering information. The bulky packs that provided their Hotshots with hundreds of lasbolt worth of ammunition were replaced with more standard clips. Not ideal for sustained combat, but this was not what they were there for. The Imperial Guard special forces moved through the jungle quietly, though their pace was lacking. The loss of the Catachans fighters they had introduced in the ranks of the 85th still stung, both on and off duty. Their target will Kilboy Hammer'ed, some high ranked Nob, it's death would provide useful chaos.


A somewhat easy Ork to locate, all things considered, large and in charge, clad in all sorts of plates bolted all over, from stacks of Guardsmen flak plates to something vaguely shaped like the warplate worn by the Space Marines and then some Xeno armor whose origin was impossible to tell from so far away. The Ork bore its name well, wearing an open face helmet upon which a cackling Thunderhammer head was grafted, there was little credit for guessing what this one like to use in combat, thought Castella as she reviewed the pict taken from a spotter. The Tempestor Secundus motioned for her vox-man to come.

''S-2-1 this is Star-Ray 1-1, have you received the picts, over?''

The sniper team replied in the affirmative, one by one. Easy mission she thought, three team deployed out of the six she led, each taking a shot from different angle. Hellshots loaded with ammunition made to knock out engines on small vehicle, certainly not overkill when it came to the Orks. The distance had been mesured and confirmed for each snipers, all that was needed was a good opportunity, the Ork remaining sitting somewhere for a few minutes would do. It took nearly an hour, while it barked commands, bullied the smaller of their green tinted cousins. Finally, it sat, reaching for something far too close to a human arm for comfort. This was their windows, the Scion sent commands to her men via the slate monitron on her wrists. It took less than half a minute for three shots to ring out in the dense woods, all three large rounds screamed through the air. The first one seemed to be entirely on target, but much to Castella astonishment, the Ork just vanished in a loud thundercrack, the damned thing looted a displacer field. Orders were given both with the vox and the slate ''Find it!''.

It was too late, the air was filled with gunfire from the excited Greenskins, inaccurate and far out of range, but the location of the sniper teams were likely compromised already. Castella waited as long as she could, Hammer'ed was nowhere to be found, and she gave the order to retreat, they were done with this mission.

Member of 40k Montreal There is only war in Montreal
Primarchs are a mistake
DKoK Blog:http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/419263.page Have a look, I guarantee you will not see greyer armies, EVER! Now with at least 4 shades of grey

Savageconvoy wrote:
Snookie gives birth to Heavy Gun drone squad. Someone says they are overpowered. World ends.

 
   
Made in ie
Pestilent Plague Marine with Blight Grenade





Cork, Ireland

Kascyn’s thoughts were racing. His father was wounded, the other trueborn had pulled him back to the keep. The immediate matter of succession shrouded his mind like an elusive headache. Then of course there was the matter of the battle that he found himself in. Imperial armoured vehicles smashed into the exposed flank of the Tau. With all their positions focused on the ruins, the Imperium tore through them with relative ease. Naturally with Archon Tyraxis’ apparent fall cohesion had faltered amongst the Drukhari. That would not do. Kascyn immediately began to throw his weight around, rallying squads into attack formation, abandoning what was left of the crumbling walls. He gathered fellow trueborn to form a protective formation around him and guided Scourge units to outfit themselves with every dark lance available to them. At his command Ravagers and Reavers spilled out of their derelict prison, packed with kabalites engaging the panicked Tau forces with ease. “All Scourges armed with lances are to engage the Imperial tank formations at once. Reaver Jetbikes armed with heat lances and cluster caltrops are to provide support. The rest of you push with me to drive these pathetic tau from these plains! Grant no mercy, they are not even fit for the slave pits!” With cheers of murderous lust and vengeance the Drukhari charged out of the many breaches in their walls, killing, maiming and playing with the remaining tau with glee.

Vaeryth sealed the last crack in the stabilization crystal with great care and attention, which was not easy given his immediate circumstances. The very chamber he found himself in cracked and shuddered, as if the walls themselves were crying out in pain. His Archon and patron, Tyraxis was dragged back into the keep after a failed rallying maneuver. He was kicking and screaming, demanding to be brought back to the walls. The trueborn in a rare example of direct disobedience left him where he was. Much to Vaeryth’s dismay. The purple crystal now bore a rather crude and rudimentary scar. It would have to do, lest the very ceiling crushes the framework of the portal and the entire raiding force be slaughtered to a last. His arms began to grab panelling and bolts, frantically reassembling the stabilization chamber to enable teleportation again. He did not have time to calibrate or to peer through the webway. The gate could lead them to a rusty maidin world or Asdrubal Vect’s fortress spire. Anywhere, Vaeryth rationalised was better than this cursed place. With the stabilization chamber secured, pressurised air locked the crystal in place. Strands of the immaterium reached out from either side of the Webway gate, twirling and snarling at one another as they met in the middle. Vaeryth could never decide if he could make out colours of pink and blue or if there were a figment of his imagination. He did not care, particularly now. A number of hand chosen wracks shadowed his presence. “The webway gate is ready for transit my Archon, I do not know for how long.” Tyraxis managed to pull himself to his feet, gripping his communicator close to his mouth. “All forces retreat back to the keep, the gate is active. Repeat, the gate is ACTIVE”. Vaeryth quickly turned to his pawns. “What are you waiting for? Salvage my materials immediately, go go!”

The Drukhari limped away from the battle, imperium armour formations refusing to give chase. A number of vat born perished in the retreat, Kascyn wouldn’t think about them again. His father was alive. The old Archon didn’t know when to die. The Tau had been caught in a pseudo pincer movement and were utterly crushed. The Imperium had suffered casualties from the Drukhari assault but the Knight division wreaked havoc on their exposed warriors out in the open field. Those that remained slithered back to the keep, where ravagers blow wide holes in the walls to gain access to the Webway gate. There was nobody staying behind to ensure they all made it. It was every eldar for themselves, fighting to reach the dying gate. The dead lay limp on the ground, there was no thought or respect given to the dead. No reward for failure. Kascyn ducked under a swinging knife and delivered an elbow to a warrior to his left. A skirmish had broken out in the confines of the keep. They were all desperate. Kascyn kept running, downing vat born left and right with his splinter cannon. A fatal cracking of brick and mortar heralded the collapse of one of the inner walls behind him. The oval shaped eye of the immaterium began to shrink and fade as Kascyn made one last desperate dive for safety towards the gate...

Spoiler:
Battle of the ruins Part 2



Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in au
Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot







General Kiro watched the last battle suit bravely firing towards the unseen enemy, even as its comrades died around it. Intel indicated it was dark eldar that the tau were embattled with here and some of Hargrave’s knights had engaged some of their screening forces. A vanquisher boomed next to him and the last battlesuit stopped dead still for an instant and then it fell. A platoon of exterminators pressed forwards into the middle ground ahead of him, their cannons fired over and combined with that from the IFVs. The blue puffs of energy fire were dwindling rapidly as every time they tried to respond to his force the reply was tenfold in bolts and shells.
There had been a time when it seemed it could go either way and the weight of energy fire had made him consider calling up his reserves, as it was now the IFVs were about to disgorge their troops.
Fire flashed across the hillside. Confused reports started coming through the vox. It never was that easy.

Coronel Ross Watched her tanks advanced towards the tau positions confidently. The dark eldar were in the area. Apparently, but she didn’t believe they’d attack. The tau had them bottled up in the ruins ahead, Kiro’s contingent was stronger than the tau force, so they’d seek to avoid conflict.
A pair of punishers pressed up on the tau’s flank and then let hell loose on their position. She could almost hear the barking of the shotguns.
One of the punishers tried to spin, like it was threatened on the flank. But Major Rijsen’s force was there.
A series of dark beams struck through the tank and it catastrophically exploded.
Dark shapes flitted over the tau lines. Well towards where here men now stood. It felt like someone had thrust a hook into her stomach.
“Alpha, bravo company enemy troops incoming from the right flank!”
“Get the reserves here now!” “Draco!” The dark beams struck again and the second punisher blew up.
“1st platoon target incoming dark eldar forces.” She called to the two platoons of tanks.
But they were amongst her troopers in a moment. Dark fire scythed among her troops with disturbing precision that cut her infantry to ribbons.
A tank blew up nearby.
“We need support.” She could hear the desperation in the vox operator’s voice.
There was not anything she could do, they were effectively holding her soldiers hostage.
Ross could feel it twisting inside. “Keep low!”
She watched men and women that had followed her to the gates of hell and back cut down by dark fire and the rounds of her own vehicles. Every blast made her cringe inwardly. For three minutes she watched her force bleed and there was nothing she could do.

Cornel Ross climbed down from the turret of the tank. She felt like her limbs were made from lead. She felt disgusted and disturbed. “Get me a report.” She called to her adjutant.
“Sir the dark eldar have disappeared. The Tau, they fought to the last. We’ve lost twelve tanks, five IFVs and two hundred and fifty men.”
“Most of them to the dark eldar.” She took a deep breathe and looked over the smoking battlefield. She looked at the bodies of her men and women being carried back. The dead were to be joined by those dozens more who would otherwise spend hours dying in agony from the poison. One last act of compassion from the medical corp.
Spoiler:
Battle for the ruins part 3

This message was edited 4 times. Last update was at 2021/07/13 08:44:50


   
Made in es
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






Kaliphera Quartus - above Ulysses hive

Shipping the Askaris out of Kaliphera Primus had gone more smoothly then expected, unopposed by the mysteriously vanished greenskins who were still nowhere to be found. They left the planet in relative steady imperial hands, with the PDF steadfast under the 85th leadership, even though there seemed to be quite some civil unrest on the big farm complexes – internal struggles not worthy of the attention of the guard just yet according to high command. They were needed elsewhere more urgently. With the situation on Tertius escalating faster then expected, the conflict between T’au and Imperials was about to spirale into all out war any day now. So Marshal Mancini had ordered them to pull out and redeploy to bolster Ulysses hive, before the imperials lost their last stronghold on the hive world of Kaliphera Quartus.

Abord the Tambo – repurposed asteroid mining ship and lucky charm of the Askaris – Junior Commissar Butch Baker was just on his way to the bridge to have a look at the final approach to the aerodrome of Ulysses Hive, as all of the sudden the klaxons of the ship began to scream in agony. Red warning lights flashed up and navy crewmen started running around as if someone had clubbed a beehive with a stick. Butch double timed to the bridge, but before he even got there, the deep thumping sound of massive flak grenades detonating at Tambos void shields told him all he needed to know about the reasons for the uproar. On the bridge, the atmosphere was hectic and alarmed, but at least not on the brink of panic as he had worried. The captain – a gaunt, sinevew man, heavily augmented and almost fused to his throne - shouted orders to his subordinates, simultaneously trying to find the delicate balance between evading the worst of the incoming fire to protect his ship, but also using its heavy frame and massive void shields to protect the far less armored troop carriers behind it. A task not made easier by some of the panicking shuttle pilots breaking formation and the beginning rain of burning debris from those less fortunate who had already been fataly hit. On the screen Butch could make out their supposed landing field, conveniently lit up by the strokes of heavy laser batteries and the smoke of krak missiles trailing in their general direction. In between streaks of tracer fire indicated fierce dogfighting between their own fighter escorts and the sleek, alien shapes of T’au aircraft – the former being disturbingly outnumbered. “Throne dammit! Pull up! Back into orbit”, the fist officer was screaming, as Butch stepped up “NO! If we do that, it’s a turkey shoot for them. Drop under the upper spire lever, divert to the north and bring us down!” The first officer met his gaze with a look as if he was something he had just found at the sole of his shoe and Butch’s hand already loosened the holster on his bolt pistol, but a look into the eyes of the ships captain – a veteran of dozends of “hot landings” told him that he had come to the same conclusion “Drop to 2.2 kloms, course 12-3-73, full trust. To all vessels of the landing fleet: hold formation and divert north. To high command: Ulysses hive is lost! I repeat: Ulysses hive has fallen to the enemy! To all decks: prepare for emergency landing and brace for impact! Pray to the emperor you poor dregs, we’ll need it!”

Even from orbit the trails of burning wreckage and exploding landers could be seen, as the doomed landing fleet intended to relieve Ulysses hive half landed, half crashed in the Broken Barrens. While by the emperors grace at least two thirds of the force survived more or less battered, almost all ships were lost, leaving the Askaris stranded on the planet.
Spoiler:
The Askaris suffer another major defeat as they try to redeploy to Ulysses hive. Instead of allies they are met with fierce resistance, the hive seemingly having fallen to the enemy. The landing commences, on the cost of 1/3 of their forces and most of the transports.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/08/12 12:00:16


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Pestilent Plague Marine with Blight Grenade





Cork, Ireland

Tyraxis stumbled through the gate, carrying momentum he gained on another planet far away. The room was dark and damp. Water dripped freely into swelling pools. It was more like a cavern than a room. Sections of chiseled stone,similar to the ruins they had just fled from lined the walls at irregular intervals. In other sections the stone had crumbled away revealing the dark, oily slick rock beneath. The gate illuminated the immediate area. His warriors, those of his Kabal immediately began to secure the yearning mouth at the opposite end of the cavern. Slaves, those few that remained were subject to hard labour, gathering supplies to one secure location. All of this and Tyraxis had yet to open the jaws of his mouth, his endless drilling of street thugs and chem rats had borne some fruit after all. More warriors spilled into the chamber from the mouth of the gate. The projection it cast over the cavern grew weaker and dim, time was running out for those on the other side. Tyraxis pressed against the dent in his pauldron, the injection system had saved him from the worst of the pain. He approached the mouth of the complex while the raiding force regained some semblance of cohesion. Despite being surrounded by those donning his colours, he felt naked without Scaur. He hoped the old Incubi survived the ordeal for his own sake. Swirling shapes slithered through the shadows as the gate finally ceased, Mandrakes. Bloodthirsty creatures by nature, Tyraxis was proud to have been able to negotiate such creatures into his service. However they must be sated lest they turn against anyone in their murderous wake. Soon they must be let off their leash. As Tyraxis approached sunlight he witnessed an encampment right on his doorstep, Crimson banners flew high as tents of flayed skin stretched out into the Mountain valley. The Kabal of the Bloody Dawn. ‘Harakor’ Tyraxis spat, the old Archon had gathered his followers first and staked a claim to the most prestigious spot for his tent on a hill overlooking his motley kingdom. A subtle yet defiant display. The others would take note and be looking to Tyraxis to respond. Despite their perilous situation the politics never ceased.

Archon Harakor was a weathered thing. Despite centuries of torture and blood baths, it was all he could do to maintain his shrivelled state. His pale skin was stretched over aching bones, concentric rings shadowed his pitch black eyes. His fingers, adorned with exquisite jewelry of the ancient empire, were bent and frail. Yet his mind was sharper than any monofilament wire. Tyraxis brushed aside a flap of flayed skin as he entered the makeshift palace. “Ah, Archon Tyraxis” Harakor paused, maintaining a courteous yet hollow grin. “You survived.” Tyraxis’ teeth pressed upon one another so tight they almost shattered. “Yes, I managed to rally the majority of our spoils and that of my kabal, much to your..relief i'm sure. The battle was so chaotic that I didn't see much of you in the battle Harakor.” Tyraxis left the accusation half buried, nothing to deny if confronted directly yet just enough to draw the feeble cowards ire. “Ah yes well battles can be awfully chaotic, especially if things are left so unorganised as they were.” Harakor paused again, no doubt a veteran of speechcraft and subtly “I did send a message to you, although I believe you were indisposed. I took it upon myself to ensure we have a secure fallback position once the majority of our forces had emerged from the gate. We were always going to lose that battle Tyraxis, the only question was how much?” Tyraxis took a moment to glance around Harakor’s palace. Despite their precarious situation it was apparent that Harakor still valued his creature comforts. Fine pillows and silks from the dark city adorned exquisite, ancient furniture. Lush carpets covered the grass leading towards Harakor’s throne which was weathered and beaten as the one who occupied it. “Not as much as we could have Harakor, you have me to thank for that.” Perhaps he failed to conceal his venom in that response but the Archon of the Bloody Dawn was beginning to draw his ire, he would need to be dealt with soon. “I trust you have sent scouting parties out to discover where we are or what lies in wait around us, old friend?” Harakor blinked, shifting his weight on his throne “Oh indeed I have, this is not my first raid boy.” Tyraxis must be drawing his ire also, they were almost conversing honestly..almost. “When they return we will have a much better idea of our overall position, We shall reconvene at such time.” With that Tyraxis bowed as custom and left to establish his own encampment and he had one idea that brought a grin his his horrendous face...

Spoiler:
The Dark Eldar establish a new encampment in the Kaliphera System..


Sgt. Vanden I bet Irish can do that by flashing his bear chest.
Sgt. Vanden Irish is the definition of a Dutch oven
 
   
Made in au
Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot







Field Marshal Kendal watched the battlegroup re-enter the Nicovian plains. The Dark Eldar had slipped through his grasp, they'd gone off the radar, disipearing from the region, and likely the planet itself, he knew they'd be back. But they were vultures and jackals, scavengers on the weak, a threat but not his mission. The tau had forces planet side. His forces had caught and eradicated one of their cadres. What mattered was that their influence be purged Secondus, and also what mattered was that his troops were in good cheer. Two xenos forces engaged and vanqiushed in less than an hour of fighting. The weather was the best it had been since they landed on secundus and his informants had told him that news of the victory had reached the capitol and been recieved very warmly.
It certainly felt ironic that it was those very soldiers that had threatened to fire into the crowds in New Mallus that were now being lauded and hailed as heros and saviours. But the world often worked in funny ways.

Colonel Ross watched seven of the twelve tanks that had been damaged in the fighting moving under their own power again. It took a lot to make a tank stop for good. You could kill crew, and blow holes through it, but if it didn't burn it was reusable. The good news felt bitter as she could still see her troops there on that hillside, as seven crews had still lost men and women inside those vehicles.
"Colonel."
"General." She nearly jumped out of her skin and snapped a salute, so deep in brooding she'd not heard him approach.
Spoiler:
Commonwealth battle Group moves back into the Nicovian plains, their success against the Tau and Dark Eldar proceeds them

   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






Kaliphera Quartus - Broken Barrens

"... the transport with the 55th too 60th burned down with all hands lost and the mounts of the 13th and 14th are practically gone too. At least we could still salvage them as provisions. And... that's about it." the young N'Go'Ni captain from the logistics staff finished his report in the improvised command centre within Tambos lower deck, flipping through his clipboard if he missed anything. "All in all about 50.000 dead and another 20.000 in no state to keep on fighting. The rest were lucky or are walking wounded." he wrapped it up shortly, adding to the surly, gloomy atmosphere in the room. "So we still landed 2/3rds of our forces right under the traitors noses and despite all their best efforts. Say what you want, but I call that a strategic victory." Bantu commented with grim determination "we fought under worse odds." which earned him the respectful nods of the other Askari commanders as well as a series of unbelieving or even detesting stares from the Navy officers. Lady Commissar Jacquard, the cut above her right eye still bleeding into the compress the medicae fixed to it supressed a satisfied smile about her charges. They were an unruly bunch and far from a by the book regiment, but you had to give it to them that they did not shy away from the fighting, even after getting a beating. "I say we salvage what we can from the shuttles, bobbytrap everything and disperse. Harass the enemy and see how strong their grip on this world really is until an opportunity comes up." Bantu continued and already some of the captains and Majors present studied the hololith in front of them showing the northeastern side of the continent, confering about possible deployment in lowered voices.
"And what about us?" a Navy lieutenant, no doubt himself a representative of the higher Navy personel to attached to their ships to join in person asked in a rather irritated, sharp tone. The bulbous augmetics in the back of his cranum likely allowing a direct connection to his superiors. "We need protection to evacuate!" Valeria met his gaze just stating "As you heard, we have about 70.000 lasguns spare. By the authority of the commissariat you are enlisted under Paragraph 1745, section Sigma 867. Arm your crewmen, prepare defensive positions and evacuate your officers and wounded. But anyone able to shoot a lasgun stays and fights."

The Navy officer flushed with rage "You can't do that! Those are Navy personell, not some ground pounders you can just... throw in the meatgrinder!", behind Valeria, her Junior Butch just casually loosened his holster "I think you might have misunderstood the Lady Commissars comment as a mere suggestion Lieutenant. It is not." Lost for words the Officer looked around, only to see his peers avoiding his gaze and suddenly finding interest in their bootlaces and surroundings...


two days later, Lonely Frontier


"They are about a hundred as far as I can see, some of them on bikes." the forward observator reported from the amplivisors in his Salamander Scout tank. "Not an awful lot compared to what we saw in their camp. Seems they did not like you offer, my Lady Commissar." he added somewhat lacking in proper Vox etiquette. Valeria shrugged "That was to be expected. Take them in anyway and distribute them to the companies. We don't need cannonfodder, we need local guides." Diverting her attention to the other Senior officers again she shrugged "If we are lucky others will come, if they see this playing out nicely... Extend the offer to every gang and bandit scum you encounter in the bogs and barrens. Any man or woman who joins an imperial militia fighting against the Xenos aggressors and their collaborators gains a commissarial pardon for his past. And of course this includes requisitions of collaborators posessions to ensure the loyal imperial subjects fighting prowess in these times of peril..." the officers aknowledged the order before Rasul asked "With all due respect but... can you really just do that? I mean pardon them all if they fight?" she shrugged again "I have no idea, but as gambles go, it seems to be a good one at the time..."


Spoiler:
The Askaris try to recruit the gangers in Quartus wilds, having so far very limited success

~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
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Made in ca
Heroic Senior Officer





Krieg! What a hole...

Lasoor Wilds

They had the damned Greenskin, finally! Hammer'Hed stood in Hellshot range, all three of her sniper teams had their large caliber rifles well within range to make a kill shot. There were issues, first amongst them being that this was an exact repeat of a scenario that had ended in failure. The Orks, for all their brutish appearances, well, they were adept at warfare, the snipers had escaped without casualties once, there really was little chances they could pull it again, with the Greenskins on higher alert. The Tempestor Secundus turned to her vox operator, another woman who had been at her side for over five standard terran years.

''Get me a link with HQ, I think it's time we adapt a more aggressive way of doing thing''

The other Scion nodded and quickly went to work. The sniper, and recon, teams had been forced to go deeper in the jungle, the terrain a little rougher, and as such, they thought it prudent that a Valkyrie would be on station, several kilometers away from the squads, with a powerful relay on board, used to establish a link between the Storm troopers in the field and those back at the fort.

''Link established, Secundus''

Castella took the phone comms set from the clarion-vox, between the higher quality equipment, and the Valkyrie in the air, the communications were crisp.

''Fort Macherius, this is Star-Ray 1-1, message, over''

The voice that answered her wasn't that her superior, it carried a faint trace of a Krieg accent, one of the Grenadiers that had been integrated in the Battalion, it seems.

''This Fort Macherius, send it, over''

''I need to speak with the Prime, bring him on comms''

There was an acknowledgement of her command, and after several seconds, the familiar voice of Gallus Tauron rang in her ear.

''Prime Tauron here, what do you have for me, Star-Ray''

''Primary target spotted, and confirmed, our coordinates, and picts of the area will follow shortly enough. I think we should use Enoch's Fist, with my teams as support.''

''Copy that, we'll await your updates, and formulate a plan. Your teams are to hold their position and maintain surveillance, I want your forces to check in every other hours, and a report if the situation changes, you'll be informed when the Fist is ready to move''

''Understood, Star-Ray 1-1 out''

And that was it, it was out of her hand, the long wait came now, as the Scions would remain otherwise immobile and watch their Xeno foes. Not much had changed following the uploading of as many pict captures and their coordinates, the Orks were doing what they did best, preparing for war, some fought, some drank, others ate. A few were trying to tie weapons together in order to create new tools of death. A picture the Tempestor Secundus had seen often. Finally, an incoming messag. The plan was as followed: three platoons of Scions would drop for high altitude roughly a kilometer away from the objective. Two of those would be outfitted with short barrel hellguns and flamers, ideal to fight in the confines of the village occupied by the Greenskins. The last one would act as support, with teams of Volley guns placed at specific positions, identified by the snipers prior, support by Scions with regular sized rifles. Lastly A squad worth would be put in reserve, packing a mix of plasma and melta weapons, just in case some target proved to be too tough to crack with the rest of the Scion's weaponry. In addition to all of this, two platoons would be kept in six Valkyries, flying overhead and ready to drop the men where they would be need, or support the troops with rockets and lascannon. The entire operation was to commanded by Castella, after all, she had a great overview of the objective, and her snipers would be put to work, taking care of their targets, or Nobs that made efforts to command the Orks in the mess, her position would allow Castella to update her fellow Secundus who would be assaulting the Greenskins closely, and give them a chance to react to any situation changes.

Member of 40k Montreal There is only war in Montreal
Primarchs are a mistake
DKoK Blog:http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/419263.page Have a look, I guarantee you will not see greyer armies, EVER! Now with at least 4 shades of grey

Savageconvoy wrote:
Snookie gives birth to Heavy Gun drone squad. Someone says they are overpowered. World ends.

 
   
 
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