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Thread: [M] War in the Dirt - Patriots IC

  1. #31
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    Spoiler: The Damned 88th 


    Spoiler: Destruction Maniple Alpha-Rho-Phi 
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


  2. #32
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    <Perhaps I have given these fleshlings too much of a soft touch> Krypter growled over his maniple’s secure line. <No more! Engage action form destructo maxim! Atomatic shielding to full on the robots and remove those tank squads!>

    Multitudes of orders rolled out as Krypter’s mind feasted on tertiary data from his datasmiths to boost his processing augments even further. At the same time, his adjutant adepts were bringing his wargear to him. The brief hint of mortality given to him by the arrival of the Leman Russ squads had succeeded at driving out the complacency of the Magos Dominus to the detriment of his enemies.
    Tribunus Alpha Donovan relayed orders to the Skitarii legion, prompting those taking cover to fall back to defensive positions and those that could to reinforce the advancing line. The thunderous steps of Castellex robots and the earth-shaking ponderous movement of the Thanatar as it moved to face the tanks. The true might of the Destruction Maniple was about to be unleashed as his secondary displays winked with activity from the Datasmiths that attended the Magos.
    The mask was slipping from the maniple as no mere grouping of Skitarii kill-teams and Sicarian killclades but as a mighty Maniple of the Legio Cybernetica.

    Krypter raised his personal weapon, a power-axe forged by his own hands, and from behind the Maniple lines emerged the Kastelan cohorts led by his Datasmiths. If the worlds of Adrantis were to win freedom and any measure of bargaining power at the end of this war, the Imperials needed to know just how much destructive power they could command. The useless scrapheaps that comprised the majority Mechanicus who joined the Patriots could preen and politick all they wanted but Krypter understood a simple truth: War is the ultimate expression of power. And he would prove his mastery over that power again and again if he had to.

    The Thanatar fired its mortar again. The roiling ball of plasma burst overhead of a tank squad, reducing the mighty machines to little more than boiling scrap from the intense and explosive heat. Searing barrages of fire from the mauler cannons of the Thanatar and the phosphor canons of the Kastelans ripped into the approaching enemy armor. The Skitarii and Sicarians were redoubling their efforts as well, servos and implants kicking into a higher level of combat readiness as an all-encompassing order radiated through their systems originating from Krypter:

    <ALL-KILL>

    Arc rifles snapped and cracked through the air, burning the life out of Imperial soldiers with the plodding advance of the Skitarii lines. The Sicarians, taking advantage of the renewed pace to sow more disorientation among the Imperial lines, were targeting field officers among the enemy. Bolter fire from the supporting Castellex platforms reduced squads to bloody pools of viscera and gore in seconds, paving the way for the marching feet of cybernetically enhanced rebels.
    Hit me up on discord: Mags#3126
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  3. #33
    The Last Remembrancer
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    Jarn resisted the urge to take his helmet off. He'd seen too many good people get shot right in the head just when they thought they were safe.

    "Ulf, call an officers meeting." The big man got to his feet and started working the vox as Jarn walked towards a covered, sandbagged dugout towards the rear, Beck falling in behind.

    "We need water up here." He mused aloud. His soldiers came from a very cold, very hard planet, but they never had a risk of going thirsty if they could make a fire and boil ice. This dirty, hot rock was about as far from his home as he could imagine. He stepped over a corpse, pausing to police its weapon, before stepping into the dugout proper. Charts lay strewn about folding tables.

    "A command post" Beck stated, picking through the charts. "Maps of the local area, with ranging data for the batteries."

    "Good." Jarn collapsed into a chair, stared up at the camo netting ceiling, and cursed roundly. He was hot. Too damn hot.

    Ulf, Droplaug and Herkja entered the dugout. Herkja looked battered, and queasy.

    "Where's Starolf?" Jarn asked. Droplaug sighed.

    "Took a deflection in the hip on the way up. The medics are patching the hole, but he lost a lot of fluid. He's out for the moment."

    "Damn." Jarn pushed himself to his feet, finally allowing himself the luxury of taking his helmet off. "I don't need to tell you how precarious we are here, we're out on a fucking limb. We need to dig in and hold this ground until we get fresh orders and support from the rest of the Patriot forces. Droplaug, arrange scav parties. Water is the top priority, and ration it fairly. Work with our medics. After that, ammo. Then fungibles."

    "Fungibles?" Beck asked, but Herkja held up a hand to shush him.

    "What about me boss?"

    "Get the big guns working, and give our toaster lovers in the valley as much support as you can. Don't get fancy, just drop shells on the Imps arse, keep em distracted and pinned. Ulf, park yourself next to Gamal, help him supervise Starolfs mob."

    "Gamals dead." Droplaug stated. "During the storm."

    "Shitting idiot. Varny then?"

    "Still alive as far as I'm aware."

    "Good. Give him the promotion and get him to organise Starolfs men."

    The officers stood as one, and scattered to their tasks.

    "We'll be managing the perimeter, I take it?" Beck said.

    "You've got it. We've taken the ground, now we hold it. And to answer your question. Fungible is an adminstratum term. Its for equivalent parts. Like for like."

    Beck nodded. "You and your regiment have been through a lot. You remind me of some of the guard veterans."

    "We are guard veterans." Jarn smiled. "We've been through some proper shit shows. Stick close to me, and you and yours just might make it through."
    Last edited by dakkagor; 06-24-2021 at 12:25 PM.

  4. #34
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    Spoiler: Destruction maniple Alpha Rho Phi, the Damned 88th - Marioch 
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


  5. #35
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    Ulf groaned and looked at Herkja, who merely shrugged.

    "Thats the bosses call and you know it."

    Hassek swore, and kicked a battered helmet on the floor, and stomped away cursing the imperium, the Patriots and the galaxy. Herkja sighed. No point asking Jarn for his opinion right now.

    Herkja took the vox transmitter from Ulf and propped it between her ear and shoulder.

    "This is Blizzard Three Striker Four, Blizzard Actual is occupied. I've got a lot of dehydration casualties here, and I'm going to have a lot more if we push too hard. Standby."

    Hassek slumped back over, looking wrung out. His tantrum had cost him more than he'd like to admit.

    We're all getting too old for this groxshit. Herkja kept the thought to herself

    "We can't afford a push right now Herkja. We just fucking can't. But if we let the Imps get away and rally we will have another big fucking problem to deal with. Fucking patriots, couldn't find their arses with a whole pioneer corps."

    One of the kids ran up to Herkja, Ulf and Hassek and handed each of them battered water canteens, still stamped with a simple copper imperial eagle. Herkja took a couple of careful sips and looked the young trooper up and down.

    "You seem to be doing alright."

    The young Jotunhel soldier was transit born, and made a sloopy salute with the wrong hand, as his right arm was laden with several canvas sacks of salvaged canteens.

    "Its hot as the devils arsehole Maam, but I'm managing for the moment."

    "So you are. Stay there trooper." She turned to Jarn. "We can't push with a lot of the force, but we at least have to show willing right? So we scrape up all the young bucks and fillies and put them under someones command, and we send them in in support of the pioneers. The rest of us hold this position and the artillery. Its not like we won't be fighting like daemons anyway, but it will involve a lot less fucking walking."

    Jarn nodded, mulling it over. The kids were sons and daughters of the regiments civilian train, as well as the frontliners and lifers. They also represented a hope of something beyond just limping from war to war and getting shot at for money. That somewhere at the end of all this, a home was waiting for them.

    But you got nothing without sacrifice.

    "We'll take a few veterans for command and control." He took the vox. "This is Blizzard Actual Striker 4. I'll be leading two light companies and Ironhammer to the objective. Any more than that and the damn Imps will retake this battery. Confirm?"

  6. #36
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    Initially, the pack militia rode in silence, The Void silencing the sounds of energy cannons blasting past the ship.
    The tense moments are soon over as Colonel Maxim came back from the cockpit, "Smooth sailing from here," He said in a low voice. The two other small drop ships carrying everyone else would be hearing the same thing one way or another.

    "Wolf Pack to ground, Wolf Pack to ground. This is Pack Alpha, come in ground" Captain Grimm's voice came over the Vox.

    Everyone in the drop ship was silent as the man spoke. He was normally good natured, but he's not someone you wanted to interrupt. Doubles, everyone in the other two drop ships would be singing songs, probably one of the few ancient ones Xiaton claimed was passed down from generation to generation.

    Knowing the danger of being blown to pieces were gone, everyone's spirits lifted and they all started checking their assortment of gear and weapons that were mainly scavenged from the battlefield. Hold hunting rifles, shotguns, and anything else that could shoot metal with just as many laser weapons. Half their armor taken from dead soldiers, and some painted over with rough patriot insignias and the wolf.

    The briefing said they'd be landing in a secured drop zone, but they didn't know the status of all that yet. In a battle, things can change in an instant.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

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  7. #37
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    Spoiler: Destruction maniple Alpha Rho Phi, the Damned 88th, Teph Min militia - Marioch 
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


  8. #38
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    "Stay put, boys." Captain Grimm said, "We may be deployed sooner than you think."

    He strode to the command center, "Sir, I bring fresh blood to the battlefield," he said in a serious tone, "Unless you have any better position for us to occupy, me and my men will deploy to reinforce that hill."

    Everyone else sat tight in the drop ship as they looked on to Captain Grimm amd the rest of the officers.
    "Bloody warp, he's gonna throw us into the thick of it." One of the men said.
    "Then why don't request a transfer to another unit?" Another shot back.
    "Stow it. We're hear to kick the Inperium out of the sector. If any of here are here for any other reason, I suggest you get out now." Colonel Maxim said. He was stern, and quiet. He went back up to the pilot and said "Get ready for some crazy flying, because I've got a feeling it'll come any minute now."

    Those in the other drop ships remained seated as well. One snagged a scavenged vox and his voice crackled to the other two.
    "Anyone else think we're flying into a ghost wasp nest?" One guy asked.
    "I expect nothing less" another voice crackled.

    The militia was unconventional at times. Probably what kept a few of them alive for so long.
    "Yeah, maybe it'll be another Alpax." A success for the militia, when they found a dead end and lured imperium troops into a practical shooting gallery.

    "Sir, shouldn't we unload some of the supplies?" Nores asked.
    They were given several containers of food, ammo, and water. Each man had his own canteen, maybe a second if one was smart. But there was still extra they could unload.

    It wasn't much longer until all the extra supplies were unloaded.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  9. #39
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    <Acknowledge fifteen minutes> Krypter replied, allowing himself a lingering amusement at his Tribune Princeps’ indulgence into baseline vulgarity. <Allow for cleansing and recovery of Alpha units as well. Standard command rotation pattern. And deal with those surrendered Imperials.>

    Donovan winked in acknowledgment as the Maniple slowed almost imperceptibly to the untrained eye. The exhausted and overstimmed Alpha’s from the front systematically rotated toward backlines as they were replaced with fresher command units so they could undergo chem cleansing and much-needed hydration. The Tribune Princeps unshouldered his plasma caliver and headed out to where the vanguard had the Imperials under watchful eye.

    Magos Krypter took a moment more to assess the damages taken, finding them still in acceptable parameters even with the loss of the datasmith control units. Such techpriests could be replaced and the destroyed Kastellans repaired, refitted, and/or recycled. The Castellex were the more important units due to the more archaic and arcane nature of their design and components. Though all the robots would need their atomatic shielding recalibrated somewhat, time permitting (but even then there was never a guarantee of full protection with such things). Until then, their deployment would need to take the possibility of Imperial armor into more consideration given the number that had withdrawn. The progress reports from Sicarian Sigma and his killclade of Infiltrators was pleasing as they were crossing into the starport.

    Donovan arrived at the forward location where the Imperials were under guard and took in the situation quickly, noospheric data divining the best approach in a matter of heartbeats. <We have neither the space nor inclination to take prisoners> was the Tribune Princeps final judgement. He quickly raised his plasma weapon and pressed the trigger, raking the Imperials with a fatal salvo of rapid-fire bolts.
    Hit me up on discord: Mags#3126
    I'm just easier to get a hold of there. Just lemme know who you are

  10. #40
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    Spoiler: Destruction maniple Alpha Rho Phi, the Damned 88th, Teph Min militia - Marioch 
    Spoiler: My RP links 

    PM me for novelised versions of any of my RPs, or ones that I have participated in. Set by the awesome Karma.


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