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Just to make sure - it was Sgt_Smudge who came up with the original idea for, 'Insert yourselves'. He deserves his credit for such an awesome idea
I would like to take the Air Caste Strike Fighter Pilot but I will have to do some research and learn more about the background lore first. Is the fighter deployed by Navy Ship or from airbases on a Sept world?
Oh boy, tau. Something I know about! I would like to take Shas'O tau'n Fir'dras if you don't mind. Also, would it be alright if I call him Fir'dras for short, as his full name (like most tau) is quite tedious to write
This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2015/05/09 15:55:45
Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim.
I would really like to help, but I would really have to touch up on my Tau lore (haven't played them sonce 5th Ed). Once I do that, I'll come back and try to help!
And Mr nobody, both shas'uis have pulse rifles, ethereal will have an honour blade (I've not built him yet) commander with cyclic ion blaster and plasma rifle
Otto Weston wrote: Just to make sure - it was Sgt_Smudge who came up with the original idea for, 'Insert yourselves'. He deserves his credit for such an awesome idea
I would like to take the Air Caste Strike Fighter Pilot but I will have to do some research and learn more about the background lore first. Is the fighter deployed by Navy Ship or from airbases on a Sept world?
Thanks
Actually this goes waaaay back to ye olde days, with the Catachan [numbers]
Ok, I've got an idea forming in my head for Fir'dras, but one quick question; what's he armed with? Are we talking battlesuit, or infantry grade and such. As a commander, I'd expect more battleship tier stuff, but I want to double check to make sure everything actually works for you
Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim.
Kor'vre Tash'var Varro watched with pride as his Razorshark Strike Fighter, the 'Or'es U'it', slid back into its deployment rack above him; finally back in its true place after some extensive repair-work. To anyone else it would look as good as new and without a scratch to mar its perfect form but Varro could see patches where the metal was just a tiny bit smoother than the rest, like tender scar tissue over recent wounds. Varro smiled, for just like his fighter he had been wounded at the same time and bore his own scars to match.
Varro's boots clanged against the metal floor as he slowly walked around his fighter, analyzing it, carefully checking for any damage that hadn't been attended to or paintwork not properly applied. When he was happy with everything, he reached up and scratched the cold metal Burst Cannon turret affectionately before heading to the midsection and pulling himself up to crawl through the entry hatch. After securing himself snugly in his seat, he let himself relax, for that was where he truly felt safe and at home. Another might find such a tight environment claustrophobic, even oppressing but to Varro it was his own secure haven away from the clamouring of other people and the demands of his position. He put his head back and drifted off to sleep. He dreamt of his latest battle in which both he and his trusted fighter had nearly been put down for good.
****
He was back in his cockpit, slashing through the clouds of Tash'var whilst vectoring to eliminate Ork survivors from a Kill-Kruza that had crashed after being shot down in orbit. The weather was particularly nasty and sensors were hampered, much to Varro's satisfaction because it was well known that Ork sensors were next to nonexistent. The rain outside caused his canopy to be covered by rivers of water which distorted his view and his visibility through the grey clouds themselves was less than fifty metres and so he relied on his instruments. He was closing on the Ork position and when he arrived, he cut his throttle, turned over and dived straight down. The first the Orks knew of his arrival was when the glorious, 'Or'es U'it', screamed out of the sky above them accompanied by a terrifying wail as it poured bright streams of steaming purple plasma into their midst. Clumped up Orks were cut apart by the furious fusillade which left unrecognizable bits of charred flesh that caused the rain to mist into an eerie fog on the ground. The surviving Orks laughed and jeered as he climbed back towards the clouds but they were quickly answered when his Quad Ion Turret fired and unleashed explosions which rippled across the ground, catching orks in shockwaves and eruptions of shrapnel and debris, leaving scores more dead in his wake. Just as he dived to strafe the remaining Orks a second time, Klaxons roared throughout his cockpit and warning lights blared from his screens; a heat signature detected diving right behind him, directly on his six. Varro couldn't believe what was happening. Not only had an Ork Fighter located him in these atrocious conditions but it had also evaded his advanced detection and early warning systems until it was right on his tail. Two things which should have been impossible.
He jinked and jived in his local airspace, trying to shake the Fighter off of his tail; his camera systems showed him a picture of a bright purple jet with multitudes of guns literally covering the wings, something which the greenskin Be'gels called Dakkajets. Varro's mouth and throat were dry and his eyes kept flickering from his sensors to his rear display whilst he tried to both keep the Ork out of his Quad Ion's blind-spot and evade the constant shower of metal that was being fired in his direction. The Quad Ion turret was finding it hard to track the Dakkajet, losing and gaining target lock even when the plane was fully visible to the naked eye; Varro began to suspect that the Ork was using some kind of electronic jamming or active camouflage to fool his sensors. Moments later a vertical updraft bumped him into the torrent of bullets and shells that battered and blasted parts and pieces off of his beloved plane. In that single second, he had received crippling damage that caused him to spiral out of control and spin down through the clouds. Varro managed to recover moments later but he was exceedingly low to the ground and the combination of both a high tail-wind and sputtering engines caused 'Or'es U'it', to stall and drop the last few metres. Varro had lost consciousness but when he came to, he first made contact with his HQ to arrange a recovery vehicle and then he crawled out of his faithful fighter to observe the damage first-hand. Behind his fighter's steaming body lay a long gouged out trench in the mud, pockmarked by pieces of wreckage and puddles of burning fuel. He squelched through the water and sludge around to the front of 'Or'es U'it' and sighed in sadness for the hurt he had caused his machine and shame for being shot down by a lowly Be'gel.
His reverie was disrupted when a screaming greenskin splashed out of the fog with a pistol and knife raised, firing wildly at Varro by his craft. Varro pulled out his pistol and returned fire but it seemed pitiful compared to the clashing bangs that roared out of the Ork's gun. Fountains of ooze and detritus sprayed upwards around Varro, a testament to the Ork's poor aim, but it sufficed to thoroughly unnerve him. He hit the greenskin a few times but it seemed to simply enrage the ork further and did nothing to hurt him or halt his charge. Varro stumbled backwards through the muck, sliding along the side of his plane and leaving streaks of mud on it, firing at the ork as he went. His weapon seemed utterly useless and so he turned and tried to run as best he could through the mire but really all he achieved was a mild plodding as his legs kept sinking to the knees and each stride was an extreme effort. The greenskin began to close the distance but it seemed to have forgotten how to use its pistol, forgoing any attempt at shooting him down and instead gesticulating wildly with its knife and panting with excitement. Varro's chest heaved with exertion but he knew it was all for naught and his end was near and so he turned to face his grisly death by greenskin. The Ork seemed to be even more incensed by his acceptance and trudged even faster towards him. Varro closed his eyes and raised his face to the skies, letting the rain pour down into his mouth and giving him a last cool, refreshing drink. The next second Varro found himself flying ungracefully through the air with his clothes in scorched tatters and the entire front of his body in searing agony. He splashed down in soothing mud which assuaged some of the pain of his burns but he was left unable to move due to the pain and unable to hear anything. He looked around meekly for the Ork but saw only a small smoking crater near where he had stood. Then Varro began to laugh, more of a grating gargle due to his wounds but a laugh nonetheless, because he saw the bringer of his salvation; he had inadvertently lured the Ork into the line of sight of his Quad Ion Turret and its AI had done the rest. The 'Or'es U'it' had saved his life.
For both surviving being shot down and surviving a close quarters encounter with a greenskin Be'gel, Varro had been promoted to Kor'vre but he only accepted on one condition. He had insisted that his fighter, the 'Or'es U'it', be repaired instead of replaced as the Earth Caste representatives had recommended.
For the Greater Good, his desire was granted.
****
Kor'Vre Tash'var Varro awoke to scramble alerts pinging in his cockpit. He had been issued orders.
He breezed through his pre-flight checks, powered up his engines and rocketed down the rails and out into the void.
2BlackJack1 wrote: Ok, I've got an idea forming in my head for Fir'dras, but one quick question; what's he armed with? Are we talking battlesuit, or infantry grade and such. As a commander, I'd expect more battleship tier stuff, but I want to double check to make sure everything actually works for you
He is equipped with Cyclic ion blaster and plasma rifle, signature system is irridium battlesuit
I would like to claim Shas'ui N'dras Doreth please! I will assume he is a Fire Warrior Shas'ui, and his squad is armed with pulse rifles. Devilfish or not?
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/05/10 11:12:00
Sgt_Smudge wrote: I would like to claim Shas'ui N'dras Doreth please!
I will assume he is a Fire Warrior Shas'ui, and his squad is armed with pulse rifles. Devilfish or not?
My long term plan is to get a second devilfish, so yes. Both squads will have the devilfish
Fir'dras smiled as his ion blaster spewed out more rounds into the pile of rubble the guardsmen hid behind. The shots seared through the debris melted the guardsmen in a heartbeat. They weren't the first to feel the wrath of his battlesuit, nor would they be the last. His men had been doing hit and run tactics on the fortifications the Imperium had set up in this hive city, but now was the time to finish it off and allow the Greater Good to be heard.
Fir'dras marched forwards, checking every corner and every window for an enemy, but found none. He heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see a group of soldiers and one gue'la with a ridiculous hat and had a sash. Fir'dras remembered the gue'la term for them: commisar, and was determined to bring him down. Fir'dras fired his plasma rifle mounted onto his right arm, catching a guardsmen in the gut. A second guardsmen cried out as his comrade fell to the ground, and the commisar fired a shot into the man's head.
Outraged at the casual execution of a soldier that was willing to fight and die for a cause, Fir'dras began firing his ion blaster, spraying plasma all over the entire squad, only wishing the commisar dead for his actions.
In the corner of Fir'dras' eye, he saw a little girl whimpering in the shadows, and he was determined to not let harm come to her. Trying to make himself a bigger target, he launched himself on top of a building, firing more rounds from his ion blaster into the guardsmen.
Thankfully, with their commisar being less than a puddle on the ground, and a fresh torrent of plasma coming their way, they started to give ground. One guardsmen with a desire for revenge at his friends being slain, threw a grenade at Fir'dras, but the throw was one a panicked one, and it fell short, landing next to the girl. Fir'dras saw what would happen to the girl, and launched himself in front of her, using his battlesuit as a shield to protect her. He fired one last shot into the thrower of the grenade, and prepared himself for the blast. He looked at the girl cowering before him, saw tears spilling down her eyes, and said "run".
Immediately, she took off, and managed to get behind a wall when the blast came. Fir'dras was sent tumbling back, and lay face up, sucking air through his teeth at the pain all over his body. He saw warning signs lit up all over the display system, but the battlesuit was still operational, for the time being. The girl came into view, looking at his form lying in the street.
"You saved me. I thought you were here to kill us, they said you were monsters." Her voice was quiet, and had an innocence to it Fir'dras was not used to.
"They lied. Come, let me show you the Greater Good."
I give you, Fir'dras.
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2016/08/01 21:43:21
Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim.
I will take the Hammerhead pilot Shas'vre T'olku Dra'ter
Proud supporter of
It is human nature to seek culpability in a time of tragedy. It is a sign of strength to cry out against fate, rather than to bow one's head and succumb.
-Gabriel Angelos
Glad you like it, I enjoyed writing for a tau character, and it's even better if someone can actually use what I wrote.
Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim.
T'olku inhaled sharply. Sweat beaded on his forehead. A red warning light flashed in the darkness of the turret cupola. The alert tone had been sounding incessantly for going on a minute when he finally silenced the blasted thing.
Shas'vre Dra'ter couldn't be bothered with systems failures right now. He would have to get a report on the damage from his co-pilot later.
Now was the time to strike the killing blow. He had bided his time until the targeting computer could calculate a pinpoint accurate firing solution, but the waiting was over. The time had come for Mont'ka.
T'olku flicked the locking mechanism on the trigger to 'open' and exhaled slowly out of habit as he squeezed the trigger. Even though his breathing could no more change the path of the projectile from the gunship mounted railgun than the breath of wind could change the path of the moon, it was a reflex ingrained by many years behind the trigger of a humble pulse rife. The railgun discharged its payload, the hull rocked by the sudden acceleration of the magnetic coils and the ferrous slug being fired from within. The massive capacitors screamed with the intense workload keeping the Hammerhead's afloat
On the receiving end, the hull of a crude human tank was sliced through in a silent caricature of destruction. The ammunition cooking off, blooming into red orange mushrooms and the tortured metal hulk of what was now scrap.
T'olku breathed a sigh of relief. He thumbed the comms on and addressed the helm "Krom'shol, status report. Where are we at?" and was met with intermittent static. He thumbed the comms again "Repeat, Krom'shol, what is our systems status?" and this time, he was met with the feeble voice of his pilot Han'dross "Shas'vre T'olku... Sir. Krom'shol is dead. I... I've been transferred command of his systems by the automated override". T'olku slammed his fist on the targeting interface. "Damn these humans and damn this backwater planet! How could this have happened??"
Han'dross offered up logic in the face of grief "Sir the forward armor was pierced by a laser weapon shot. The disruptor pods still appear to be functioning operationally so I don't know how they could have drawn a bead on us". Tears streaked T'olku's face and he could hear the pilot choking back cries of mixed grief and fear. But now was not the time for tears. These worthless aliens had taken a young, promising Commander from the Fire Caste of D'yanoi. Now T'olku Dra'ter would take from them: everything.
"Han'dross, are you operational?" came the unexpected question. "S-Sir?" the shaken pilot offered up. T'olku's veins ran with ice and his voice dripped venom "We're going back in. Are you operational?" he paused "If you cannot perform the functions of the late Shas'vre Krom'shol and your own duties as pilot, I will return to the forward operating base and find someone who can."
Han'dross steeled himself "Sir, yes sir. Your orders commander?"
"Open a channel direct to Aun'O D'yanoi Iruth. And wide frequency broadcast to anyone else listening"
The green transmitting light blinked on
"This is Shas'vre T'olku Dra'ter of the Hammerhead Gunship: Piercing Retribution, I took a calculated risk with my crew, with my brothers' lives, and one was lost to us today. I vow to repent for the needless waste of his life and to avenge his death. This weapons platform will be the tip of the spear in any further military actions in this theater. We will not rest until this war is won, until this planet is safe for Tau for many generations to come. We will fight with rail projectiles and submunitions, burst cannon and smart missile until the munitions stores run dry and then we will run the humans to ground with the prow of our grav tank. There will be no respite for this enemy; all repairs, refits and resupplies will be done in the field as close to the frontlines as possible until the humans are dead or subdued. For the Greater Good. Dra'ter out."
The light blinked off and T'olku slumped down into the commander's chair.
"Han'dross recheck the Markerlight receiver and the Targeting Array, we move out in five".
Proud supporter of
It is human nature to seek culpability in a time of tragedy. It is a sign of strength to cry out against fate, rather than to bow one's head and succumb.
-Gabriel Angelos
I wouldn't consider myself a fast writer, I just have waaaaaaay too much free time, so I get to sit down and just write for awhile.
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/05/12 00:26:19
Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim.
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