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

  1. #51
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    Spoiler: 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.


  2. #52
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    Mariochi woman regarded Sisilia with bewilderment. In her oversized flak, she probably looked like a teenage conscript or message runner.

    "You don't have to," Brenna said, "I honestly trust myself more than these knuckleheads."

    The bolter fire and Las blasts continued a short distance.
    But notch fighting seed to be that close.

    "How about you come with me?" Sisilia asked Brenna.

    "Ho, little sister's got a brain," James said before Brenna smacked the helmet off his head.

    "Hey, he's gotta point." Calvan said.

    "Alright, let's go." Brenna said and changed to trade, "follow us, move fast, and keep your head low." She told the woman before giving a nod for Sisilia to lead the way.

    The bewilderment in the woman's face made her nervous. But she left the building and headed for the command posts back where they came from.

    It wasn't long until they met some more pack militia running towards the front with war-bots close behind.

    +++++++++++++++++++

    Bender stumbled back as the war-bots slowly thundered past. Though they were slow, it was still a faster pace than the stride of a normal man.

    After the small moment of wonder, Bender scrambled over by Deako "hey, the wire-heads are here. Let's get back with the main force!" He raised is voice over the thundering steps and booming shells.

    And they ran to get ahead of the bots and came across Sisilia, Brenna, and a civi.

    "Good to see you're still alive!" Brenna called.

    "Takes one to give one!" One of the boys responded.

    "We got bots coming up the line, we're heading up to join the fight," Bender said quickly, "We can share some drinks when this is all over!"

    After they passed, they continued on to the main fighting and managed to find Bitan with captain Terran.

    "Bitan, we got wires for brains coming in behind us," Bender said panting from the run and saluted the officers and did a double take when he realized that he just saluted captain Terran. Everyone else behind him was practically gaping.

    "Alright." Bitan said, "Captain, take some of your men and reinforce the line, we'll push as soon as the-"

    The Vox came over "All teams, this is Foxtrot, we got eyes on troops loading into transports with stormtroopers seeming to be covering."
    "This is Tored in Delta. They're probably pulling back and are rigging the ammo caches to blow."
    "Chief to Beta, those caches could be a useful resource" Varnin's voice came over the Vox, "see if you can secure them."

    ++++++++++++++++++++

    Bitan took all this in with a dark face and thought for a moment.
    "Terran, take same men and support Norin, have the rest bolster the push. I'll have some men circle around to flank." Bitan said and went to the Vox to give the orders.

    "Delta, see what you can do to secure those caches," he said, "Echo, Foxtrot, circle around for a flank. Everyone else not ready doing something, get ready to push as soon as the war-bots arrive.
    "Goffer, what's you're statis?"

    ++++++++++++++++++++

    "Just cleaning up," Zen said into the Vox as some Las blasts flew by. As soon as they started taking out targets, they started taking fire, and it already moved a little close for comfort.
    "We just got some trash left."
    He popped out of cover and took another imp in the face.

    Their distraction seemed to work. They were no longer focused on pointing everyone bellow. But now they were taking the heat.

    "As soon as you're done, see what you can do about those trucks. We're gonna make them pay for every day they stay in our region." Bitan said
    "Belay that. As soon as you're clear, find the enemy officers and take them of you can."
    There was silence.
    "Yes sir. We'll see what we can do with the officers." Zen replied and went back to focusing on the fight in front of him.
    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 

  3. #53
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    There was a burst of static, and the mortar fire tailed off.

    +Phantom Two, this is Blizzard Actual, fire mission cancelled. If they've breached, pull out, you've done enough.+

    "Roger Blizzard Actual."

    The recon sergeant watched as the glory boys and guard fell back.

    "I can stop them running." Hissed the markswoman, Britta. She nestled her hotshot long rifle into her shoulder and lined up a shot. "I can blow out an engine block at the front of the convoy."

    "Negative." The sergeant placed a hand on the rifle barrel and pushed it gently down. "We blow that, we force them to stand and fight, and this whole thing gets a lot messier." He shook his head. "We've done enough today."

    Britta thought about arguing. She was a veteran of the original intake, and had watched imperials kill her husband for the 'heresy' of being a priest of the old Jotunhel religion. Every burst skull, shattered ribcage, blown out back, was meant to be vengeance, but it was never enough. She knew now it would never be. But at least when they died, she felt better for a little while.

    She blew out a long breath, and safed the rifle.

    "You see a blackhat though, you feel free to cap that fucker." The sergeant chuckled darkly. "Wouldn't mind myself one of those cinder-crag bolters they carry round here."

    "More than fair." Britta responded, and started hunting for a high value target.
    Last edited by dakkagor; 08-13-2022 at 07:56 AM.

  4. #54
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    Spoiler: The Damned 88th, Destruction Maniple Alpha Rho Phi, Teph Min militia - Marioch 
    Last edited by Azazeal849; 08-17-2022 at 02:21 PM.
    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. #55
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    Spoiler: Teph Min Militia, 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.


  6. #56
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    "Back blast clear!" came the call before another let a rocket loose, the warhead catching the tail of the Thunderbolt fighter than had pealed away overhead. Another rocket was fired, streaking over a second fighter.

    "S***! One already dropped their payload!" came a shout from one of the spotters.
    "Nothing for it. Open up on these F***ers!" came the response.

    Several more rockets were shot off as men rushed to get more warheads to reload. Others just opened up with whatever small arms they had, lazrifles and old bolters alike wizzing past the fighters.

    "Why didn't they give us a blasted flack gun?" one guy shouted.
    "Maybe they were being used elsewhere?" Another suggested.
    "Screw this!"

    Someone got the idea to swing one of the big guns around and was getting others to help.
    "As soon as it does another fly by, lead it and shoot!" They shouted.

    "Here he comes!" Another shouted as a fighter bore down on them. The pilot must be hoping to take out the threat to their air superiority.
    "I got him. Back blast clear?" One guy shouted and got the all clear as the auto-cannon opened up on them.
    The man shot and clipped the wing as his leg was blown off. He fell over in curses as the craft careened over head and crashed on the other side.
    "Ah, F***!" he shouted, holding his mangled leg.
    "Someone get a medic over here!"

    ===========================================

    James coughed as the smoke cleared. "Is everyone alright?" he called

    "What they hell do you think? AAHH!" Came the answer from another man who was half buried in the rubble from the bombing.

    "Come on, then. Let's get him out. Quickly!"

    And they all worked to remove rubble. It started to shift dangerously.
    "wo, wo wo. Stop! You're gonna get us all killed!"
    They all stopped.
    "Someone get some supports." Someone said, "Don't worry. We're gonna get you outa here."

    ===========================================

    Sisilia ducked at the fly over and explosions, when she looked around, she saw that a brick hovel and part of a trench line was ruined.

    "This is just perfect," Tored said, "They've brought the tenderizer. They'll be moving in, soon."
    "Keller, have artillery ready to pound any troops that come up. Make sure everyone is standing ready." Captain Grimm said, picking up his heavy bolter in both hands, and setting it on the edge of the fox hole and let off some controlled bursts as another fighter passed close by, ducking a little as more shrapnel flew everywhere.

    Keller put out the orders.

    "Sir?" Sisilia spoke up.
    "Do what you must," Captain Grimm said, "I've learned a while ago not to question a phsycer's feelings."
    "yes sir." She said and climbed out of the fox hole, sprinting for the ruined trench line.

    "Keller. You might want to let the others know that we're taking some heat." Capt. Grimm said.

    ===========================================

    "Orders! Artillery to stand by to fire on incoming troops!" the squad vox operator shouted.

    "No S***!" a man shouted, "Jorden, on the right!"
    Jorden shifted to the right "Back blast clear?!"
    "You're clear!"
    Jordon fired off another shot, and it at least scared to fighter off their planned course. Ending a run short.
    "F***!"

    "fire!" was shouted as the big gun shot at another fighter overhead.

    ===========================================

    "Right at lunch time, too." Calvan complained before taking another bite of his jurky. He was lucky with his MRE, but the rest would have to wait.
    There were others with bits of food hanging from their mouths as well.

    "Orders are in! We stand ready for the push! The Artillery should be standing by!"
    "And what in the warp are we supposed to do about these f***ers?!"
    "Screw them! We need to focus on that push, and it'll probably be marching this way any minute!"

    Some of the men were firing up at the Thunderbolt fighters. No one bothered to stop them.

    "Just keep your heads down, and your eyes open for those f*** boy imps!"
    "I wonder what they're trying to f***?"
    "Not you, that's for sure!"

    "Get down!" came the shout as another one of the fighters came to strafe the trench lines.
    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 

  7. #57
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    "So, in conclusion, we are about as dug in as we can be. I've been busy laying mines and traps across the most likely avenues of attack, and I double checked the set-up on the bridge. It was competent and conservative, so the bridge will come down." Herkja dropped into a camp chair and huffed, cuffing sweat from her brow. "But you can't make me and my squad go back out into that frakking heat."

    There was a labouring air-cooler in the corner of the tent, chugging away as it turned back and forth, back and forth, like an automated rapier turret. Jarn hadn't asked were Starolf had stolen it from and Starolf hadn't lied to him about it. It was a slim privilege of command. Everytime it hit Jarns bare, sweating back it was bliss, and torture when it moved on.

    He hated it here.

    "Right. Good job. Take a breather, get re-hydrated. Then I want a full munitions count and a report ready to go up to Patsy high command. While we are sitting holding our dicks, we might as well take advantage of easy resupply."

    "Fuck you boss." Herkja groaned, looking up at the tent.

    "Hey now, that is no way to talk to our glorious leader." Starolf snarked. "Personally I fucking love it here, especially as we are completely dependent on the Patsies to haul us out if this goes bad."

    "You got something to say, Lieutenant?" Jarn asked, his voice level. The tent went quiet for a moment.

    "No, I think I said just about everything I want to fucking say, especially what we are all thinking." the chief scout swung his arms out to take in the tent, which had a half a doze officers in it. "This shit stinks, and we are hip deep in it. We shouldn't be here. The Patsies have fucked up, just like the Imps."

    "We need the money, Starolf." Jarn muttered. "We need the resources the Patsies have if we want to find a new home."

    "Bullshit!" Starolf barked. "This is still about killing Imps! I'm all for sending every one of those fuckers straight to hell, but gods-damnit, we aren't line infantry! We aren't Krieger's or Cadians or whatever the fucks! We should be on some nice cool urban terrain, doing our damn job in our damn specialisation! This kind of shit is exactly what the Imps would do and you know it."

    Jarn pulled himself to his full height. "And what, exactly, do you want to do about it."

    Starolf drew his knife, and smacked it, point first into the table, then began to strip his webbing. Jarn met his eyes, and began to do the same.

    "Seriously?" Droplaug interjected, stepping between the two men. "Right now?"

    "Right now." Starolf and Jarn answered together.

    ******

    The two stepped out into the burning light, into the middle of the Jotunhels scrabbly camp. Men and women lounging in the open, under whatever shade they could find, looked up as the two officers stepped into the meeting circle at the centre of the camp, and squared off. A murmur passed through the crowd as the troopers realised what was happening. In the distance, grumbling artillery was ignored.

    "Don't go easy on me because I got shot, old man." Starolf was about to say something else, when Jarns jab took him in the jaw and sent him spinning.

    "Wouldn't dream of it" Jarn growled as he closed. Starolf was up in a second, stance set, and started throwing hard hooks and jabs that Jarn could barely keep up with. Men cheered around the impromptu match as either officer landed a good hard blow.

    "Fucks sake." Droplaug hissed. Herkja stood next to her, and just shook her head. The regiment had been facing discipline issues since it landed on this oppressive mudball, but this took the cake.

    "We should intervene." Droplaug finally offered as the two showed no signs of slowing down.

    "Why?" Herkja asked. "This was the way we settled it back home."

    Droplaug felt a large presence at her shoulder, and turned to see Ulf standing behind her, vox set on his back, and vox horn in his hand.

    "The boss is a bit busy." She explained as Jarn bore Starolf to the ground with a tackle. With a frown, Ulf handed her the vox horn.

    "This is is Blizzard 2 IC." Droplaug rolled her eyes. "They've been doing artillery strikes all damn week. I will not mobilise because of a sortie. Yes, even if its landing on you. That doesn't mean they are going to push, just that some dicksucker in the Guard has too much ammo on hand. Unless you have an orbital track or orders from High Command, or actual eyes on Imperials, we will not stand the regiment to condition red."

    Droplaug glanced back to the fight, which was almost over. Jarn had got a meaty arm under Starolfs chin and was slowly applying pressure. Soon the scout commander would pass out, and Jarn would be back in command, his position confirmed.

    Droplaug saw a glint of something metallic in Starolfs hand. She dropped the horn and began to step into the arena. As she did, the distant sound of fresh, renewed fire rolled over the assembled regiment.

    It wasn't artillery. It was big bore auto, missiles, las. It was the sound of an actual attack.

    Jarn released Starolf at the same moment he tapped the ground three times. The two staggered to their feet, followers from both sides of the regiment running to steady them and offer them water.

    "Stand to!" Jarn roared after a gulp of water. "Condition red! Scouts, get out and assess our route to the bridge! Scramblers, with the scouts!"

    Droplaug snapped a salute and ran for the vehicle pool, her soldiers falling in around her, scrambling into uniforms and strapping on webbing. One thought kept nagging at Droplaug as she mounted her bike and a light, wiry scout by the name of Kost dropped onto the seat behind her.

    Both sides. The old guard around Jarn, and the newer members of the regiment around Starolf. If they started fighting amongst themselves, the Imperials would be the least of their problems.

  8. #58
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    The exercise was proving itself to be quite the interesting one. Yes, that was what this was to Magos Krypter: a demented exercise to his war-addled mind. In the lull after their first objective had been successful, the Magos had ensured his Skitarii and his robots were refitted and recovered along with the added inload of data based on calculations from the previous engagements. Damaged machinery had been repaired and those who could be returned to fighting form had been. He looked sidelong at his Thanatar in response to a wavering from the machine spirit. It was restless and eager for a chance at more violence. A chance to rain glorious fire and death upon those who Krypter designated as enemies.

    Violence would consume them all sooner or later. It was the only fate that waited at the end of the long road.

    The Skitarii had taken up good defensive positions after extensive looking and the keenest of eyes could pick out the dulled barrels of galvanic rifles peeking from the mill. The main eyedraw, however, was the mass of red robes and shiny augmetics manning the main defenses along with the hulking robots. And in the woods, Sigma and his Sicarians were skulking about looking for more scalps to claim and ensuring the various mines and traps remained primed and well-hidden. The entire Maniple had always had a vicious streak thanks to Krypter but recently it had seemed to have gotten somewhat worse. There was no longer any room for compromise and no other acceptable result other than grinding the Imps to bloody gravel under their boots and pistons.

    The pass of the thunderbolt fighters had been met with the roar of fire from the mauler bolt canons of the Castellax robots. In an instant, combat orders sang along the Maniple's noosphere causing the Skitarii, Sicarians, datasmiths and more to jerk into more precise action. Linking up and relaying movements and defensive patterns with their allies while Krypter managed the massive datastream from within the command post with Anarkos relaying the more precise and parsed orders to the Alphas. With minimal contact to their allies.

    The baselines they were partnered with were useful, yes, but as unreliable as all baselines tended to be. They would fulfill their use and nothing else, as far as Krypter was concerned.
    Hit me up on discord: Mags#3126
    I'm just easier to get a hold of there. Just lemme know who you are

  9. #59
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    Spoiler: Teph Min Militia, 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.


  10. #60
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    "Theres no damn cover!" Droplaug snarled as she slew the bike around. As if to punctuate the point, a lasbolt tore through the front wheel as she tightly turned, and her and Kost went of in a tumble of limbs.

    Droplaug hit the deck, hard, and came up staggering, then was hit by something heavy again. Kost had tackled her to the floor, and a hail of lasbolts ripped over their heads.

    "SHIT!" Kost rolled off her, and unshipped his rifle, a lascarbine with a metal framed, folding stock. Not regiment standard, she noted, but few scouts carried a standard rifle after years of front-line combat. He propped himself up on his elbows, and started to snatch shots at the imps. The scouts, caught flat footed, did their best to take what cover they could, hugging dips in the ground, ditches, or cut back tree stumps.

    The only thing in their favour was the few seconds of company level disorganisation the drop troopers were suffering from. If they were formed up, and advancing, the scouts would have been swept away in moments.

    "Boss, what the hell do we do?" Kost yelled. He primed a grenade and tossed it, then looked back to his commander. Droplaug was lying on her back, clutching her arm, wheezing in pain. A lasbolt had punched right through the meat of the bicep, a neat through-and-through wound. The wound was weeping blood and boiled marrow freely, the lasbolt having burst through and cooked the bone under the muscle.

    "Medic!" He yelled, panic in his voice. "MEDIC!" No one was answering, not on the scouts vox-net, not to his yelling. Cursing all the gods and a few of the saints for good measure, he scuttled backwards and started to dig around in Droplaugs medical kit. He found a stimm, and slammed it into the wounded arm, making her jerk and scream as the shot brought her back to functioning, if only for a little while.

    "Get back Sir!" He yelled as Droplaug focused on her. She nodded, sweat sheening her face, and rolled away, getting far enough back to get up in an awkward run, clutching her wounded arm. She collapsed into a ditch, next to a scout corpsman.

    "I need attention!" She yelled. When he didn't respond, he pulled him round to face her. A neat little black hole had been drilled in his forehead. Morbidly, it was still smoking. "Shit!" She kicked the body, out of frustration. "Shit!"

    Now she was back to lucidity, even for a minute, she focused on the vox, even as she looted the body for more powerful stims. The whole engagement was a mess. The Siculans were folding like wet paper, and Krypter wasn't talking to anyone yet.


    "All scout elements, fall back towards the camp! Make use of bounding cover, squad by squad, and abandon the vehicles!"

    She jammed another stimm into her arm, and pumped the wound with anti-septic foam. It wasn't a perfect fix, but she wasn't bleeding to death. The pain was cutting through the stimms, but it reminded her she was alive for the minute.

    Scouts dropped into her drainage ditch, and she started yelling orders, reorganising fire teams and the few heavy weapons they had left. A shoulder mounted missile banged off, taking out a loitering valkyrie and showering a portion of the battlefield in flaming fuel and detonating munitions. Two-man autocannon teams, mainly lighter 40-caliber guns, chattered into life. There was finally an organised line of resistance. But being caught in the open had cost them. Dozens of scouts littered the fields, as well as most of their scramblers.

    +Blizzard Two this is Blizzard actual, pick up your fucking vox!+

    "This is Blizzard Two" She looked out of the ditch, and ducked again as a hail of las bolts tore overhead. A launcher fired grenade hit a little further down the line, tossing two jotunhel troopers into the air and dismounting a cannon. "We are overwhelmed by Imp drop troopers. Need immediate support. Expect mech/armour assault in the next half-hour/hour, this has all the hallmarks of a full assault"

    +Confirmed Two. Hold on Droplaug, we're right behind you.+

    Kost dropped into the ditch next to her. Blood was sheeting his face from a superficial cut, making him wink constantly.

    "We all right?" He asked as he grabbed a fresh powercell from the dead corpsman, slapped it into position, and loosed a full auto volley into the smoke and dust.

    "Just fucking peachy." Droplaug hissed as the pain welled up from her arm. "Just another day in the frigging 88th."

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