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SQJ
05-09-2011, 03:59 PM
Location: Mogale, 50km from the borders of both Molope and Kwasani.

The SS Razor blasted through the air at high speed, tearing past exploding shells, relying on its high value armour to keep from being ripped to shreds from flack cannon fire. The Razor was a transport ship, massive in size, most of which was made up of armour and power cells, the thing was designed for penetrating defensive lines and dropping large troop numbers.

The SS Razor and all others of its kind were three kilometres short of the defensive line and they were already reduced to a quarter of their original number, the majority of which had been blasted apart from the first few minutes of launching. What ever was firing at them was ripping them to shreds, tearing through the armour as though it were nothing more than tissue paper.

Orders were called out to the interior of the transport vessel from the vessel's captains, the armour wasn't doing it. They were being hammered too hard, all ships were going to do an emergency landing at the same time, three kilometres short of the actual defensive line and one kilometre short of what was left of an imp city called Lorrian, their planned drop off point.

The ships landed and thousands upon thousands of troops rushed out, grinding what little greenery into pulp wiht their armoured boots. One of the ships blew up taking half the men inside with it. The shock wave was so strong it blew every soldier in range off their feet. The power cells fuelling the vessel were no joke.
A streak of fire tore through the skies and dropped directly into the SS Razor. It blew sky high. They didn't stand a chance. Or that was that Vuyo, believed. Four of his best Uruk Hai privates combined their magic tech abilities and formed a wall taking the brunt of the blast into themselves, there was an explosion of blood and brain matter, leaving a bloody mess as all that was left of them.

Vuyo touched his index and thumb to his forehead and heart three times before turning back to the task at hand. The mission had just begun and he had just lost four of his best magic tech specialists and most of his support and to add icing to this cake, they'd been dropped 1 km short of their mark, he had problems of his own to deal with, too many to have time to morn.

Vuyo was running fast, he wasn't alone, over four thousand ran with him, over taking him and splitting up. He fired into the air to keep them focused. He didn’t have time to deal with them losing their spines when it mattered most. There was work to be done.

Onwards they ran using the sloping contours of the terrain to keep out of range of machine gun fire, whether that was tactical planning or just dumb luck Vuyo cared little, the only thing that mattered at that moment was getting to the cover of the ruin that could scarcely be called a city. Once, many years ago, he'd built a castle from bits of wood around his home, he'd set it on fire as a joke. Even that charred husk looked so much better than this city did. Only a few buildings were left intact and each of them were far apart and wide spread and each looked ready to come down with a single hit from a rocket propelled grenade, a tactical nightmare.

Vuyo himself had two hundred men under his command, a few of which wer already dead. He sped up and took point, running into the city's perimeter. His thick boots thudded loudly on the tar roads as he entered the city streets and dove into a crater, over three hundred and eighty others of mixed races jumped in with him. Allot of them were not his men. This was turning into a nightmare. It didn't make an bit of sense. What the hell kind of mission was this? There was not an ounce of logic in it. The enemy opposition was bigger than he had pictured. The sound of machinery over head, pulled Vuyo's upwards. He looked up.

“Everyone down!” said Vuyo looking at the surrounding buildings. There were dozens of Imp soldiers pointing mounted guns at them, spread out neatly. Vuyo dropped, lifting his own weapons and fire at the buildings. Gun fire through their numbers spraying. The walls simply blew out from artillery fire on their side. At the very least it looked like he wasn't the only one of commanding rank left behind.

Vuyo threw his hands into air and roared loudly before charging forwards, wishing to what ever gods were out there that they'd get out of this alive.

Jacogos
06-09-2011, 02:00 AM
When you need the best, you call in the Black Devils. That was common knowledge in most of the Imp battalions that graced the king's army. This was definitely a mission that needed the 'best', Val'skeer thought grimly as his cyborg took on the appearance of the guard he had just disposed of. The technology was a simple cloaking device that, in this case, made the wearer appear to be something or someone else. Voice replication was easy as well, considering the cyborg's enhanced vocal output.

Their mission, you ask? Infiltrate the Imp's lines and take out their cyborg ships without direct confrontation with the Imps. Val'skeer liked it. his superiors had left most of the planning up to him, which he preferred, and his men were trained especially by him, so he had had no fear that this would go smoothly. However, it was once he had gotten to the fortifications that he realized that these Imps were far more prepared for assault than anyone had thought. Which was saying something.

At first the simple fact that they were Imps as well made Val'skeer think this would be a piece of cake. However, that meant he underestimated just how well everyone in this operation knew one another. They were PREPARED for infiltration. And that made Val'skeer's job a lot harder. He wished he had something that could extract thoughts from a victim, so he could better fill this man's shoes... It would have to do.

Suddenly, radio activity. Since his radio was set on a frequency that only a select few men knew of, that meant something bad or really good. Inside the cyborg, Val'skeer brought the headset to his ear. "This is Sarge, repeat message."

~Sergeant! We've be compromised! They know we're comi----~

Static. The WORST sound you ever dreaded having to hear on your radio chat. Val'skeer swore and hefted the fallen cyborg's weapon. There might still be a chance for him if they couldn't track his radio, which he turned off. The rifle he now carried wasn't something that he would've picked (too much kick to shoot properly), but he figured it'd have to do. Moving along the man's patrol route, Val'skeer waited for his shift change to come in a few moments.