|
Post by Nepty on Sept 5, 2015 8:50:49 GMT
“Shas’la, do you have the coordinates?”
“Affirmative, Shas’vre. Marking the Basalisks now.”
“Markerlight is up! Your time has come, Skyrays! Let them know fear!”
“Xenos bombardment! Hold them, hold them!”
-
“Thanks Griff,”
“No problem trev.”
Trevor waved griffin goodbye and put the car in gear. He’d stayed way longer than he meant to, but Nicole probably was having fun, sleeping in and then having the house all to herself. He put on “Another One Bites the dust” and bobbed his head to the tunes as he drove. He checked the time. 6:30. It’d be nighttime soon.
Trevor pulled into the driveway and halted the engines after the three minuite drive. After a cursory glance up at his house, he got out and closed the door with a thunk, audible from inside.
From the trunk, he retrieved what he’d needed to borrow from Griff. Some tools. Nicole had been pestering him about fixing that nasty, rotting old table in the back yard, so he figured he’d do it tomorrow, on Sunday. It had all the hammers, bits of wood and sheet metal, nails and the all important nail gun he’d need to fix the damn thing. It was a lot, so he figured he’d make two trips. He picked up the sheet metal and a toolbox. He glanced up. The sky was darkening. It’d be nighttime soon. With a finale-sounding slam, he closed the trunk and headed upstairs, not even noticing the conversation between a miniature speeder and a group of necrons in his driveway, that had paused as both parties stared at him.
Trev didn’t whistle as he went up the stairs. He wasn’t really a whistling man. He hummed instead.
He got up to the door without incident, and, balancing the sheet metal and planks of wood in one hand while he turned the door with the other. Light spilled into his living room as he stepped inside and a glowing blue stream of coruscating energy flashed in front of his face and left a nasty scorch mark on the wall
Trevor blinked.
Voices were raised in anger. Screams for medics and war cries filled the room. Hundreds of miniature warriors dashed about, from what looked like anthropomorphized moths to dozens of roided-out buzz lightyears with boxy guns and chainsaw swords. A bulky tank that looked like a T34 on crack and growth meds rolled past his foot, a cannon as big as his finger blasting a substantial chunk out of his living room wall. As he stared, a man in a black greatcoat and peaked cap, and a man in a brown uniform and lower cap with a miniature hammer and sickle on his arm both screamed at a platoon of what looked like space Cossacks and soviet soldiers that they would advance or be executed. Under the sunroom table, show-sized floating war machines were blowing holes out of anything in range with clinking railguns.
“WHAT THE CRAP IS THIS HELL?”
|
|
|
Post by admiral9 on Sept 5, 2015 15:50:23 GMT
"Shas'O, we have spotted a second titan. You should see the feed through the recon drone now." The shas'ui of one of the pathfinder teams reported, he could visibly see that his subordinated were concerned and so he made sure to appear as stoic and unshaken as he had always had. Far beneath them the battle had died out as all were staring in awe at the monstrosity.
"Understood Shas'ui, the visual is clear." Silent strike had long mounted in his prototype battlesuit, the appearance of this creature was worrying but equally it might present an opportunity to peace.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2015 15:54:29 GMT
Ivan and Ivan all stared in shock at the second giant.
“oh by Stalin nut sack there's a second one.” Ivan chirped through the silence.
Ivan himself was not exactly excited by this information either, having interrupted what was about to be a risky but rewarding plan to finally start bombardment of the germans and their blue face friends.
The fear thought all the forces present was real, the creatures foot could crush them all in rapids stomps if it so desired.
Slowly, as to not spook the behemoth, Ivan brought his hand up to his ear piece.
“Ivan, this is Ivan....whatever you do...do not harm the female giant...i think her mate has arrived.”
back at base, Ivan had just learned what shitting bricks felt like.
- Ivan is shitting bricks - Ivan is shitting bricks - Ivan is also shitting bricks
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2015 16:22:54 GMT
The Hive Tyrant watched as one of the newly birthed Shrikes leap down into the hole, followed by a group of 20 Gargoyles. It was imperative that they learn if this pit could be used as a way to threaten it. He stalked away from the pit, observing as the swarm busily rearranged the metal containers and tore them open to get at the precious biomass, Harridans and Gargoyles worked to move more of the containers off of the strange ledges they rested upon, while Warriors and Gaunts move the containers about on the floor of the cavern and ripped them open. Hive Guard stood resolute at the entrance to the cavern, ensuring nothing could sneak in. Lictors and Genestealers spread out throughout the cave system, searching for threats and biomass alike. The swarm was in full motion, soon, this world would fall, like so many had before it.
|
|
|
Post by Nepty on Sept 5, 2015 16:50:34 GMT
Trev stared into thousands of miniature eyes. “Holy shit,” he said. He recognized these things. Space Marines, Guardsmen, Tau…and were those soviet infantrymen?
Some of the little men were shielding their faces from the sunlight that glared from behind Trevor. A few had fallen to their knees, possibly praying. Trevor couldn’t make out exactly what they were doing from this height.
One man in a balck robe and tall peaked hat –Trevor recognized him as a Comissar from Warhammer 40,000, a universe he sometimes took interest in, was shouting at a Leman Russ. The commander of the Russ shook his head vigorously, and so the commissar spat and pointed his bolt pistol at Trevor’s head. “Wait no-” managed trevor before a single shot rang out. Pain erupted as a hole the size of a zit exploded on his nose. “Auuugh! By doze!” he yelled, hand flying up to protect the fleshy protrusion wich had begun bleeding profusley. Angrily he lashed out with a booted foot. Guardsmen dove out of the way as the foot sailed over their heads. Humans and Tau alike collectively winced at the *SMACK* noise as the commissar flew through the air and hit the far wall with a thud. Trevor hefted the plywood in both hands. “What the hell is going on!?” he demanded half hysterically.
“Ummm…we were killing filthy degenerate germans,” muttered one man dressed like a world war two era Russian commander. Behind him, Trevor saw an imperial guard officer in an ushanka frantically call off a hydra flak tank that had surreptitiously been swiveling its barrels towards him.
Some distant voice piped up from the sunroom, where the Devilfish and hammerheads had clustered under his computer table. “What?” said Trevor.
A drone flew low over both lines and hovered in front of Trevor’s face. He warily regarded it. “We were fighting the imperial barbarians.” a somewhat Chinese-accented voice explained slowly.
“Fuck you, Xeno!” bellowed a voice from below. “You are the barbaric ones!”
A sigh emitted from the drone’s speaker box. “See what I mean?” it said.
“Filthy Xeno!” yelled the voice from below Trevor looked down and saw that the Guardsmen were hefting weapons and their astartes allies were pointing their guns towards the sunroom again. Tau guns were powering up as well and a few battlesuits were activating their jetpacks once more.
“No!” shouted Trevor. “No more fighting!” A Leman Russ let off a blast that obliterated a speaker atop the computer table. “Treacherous Gue’la!” someone shouted from the sunroom. Trevor nudged it with his foot and sent it spinning across the hardwood floor. He hefted the plywood board once more. “Just…stop it for god’s sake!” Faced with the thread of impending squishing, both factions balked from combat once more. Belligerent little shits.
“Okay,” said Trevor as both sides quieted down. “I want the leaders and retinues of all sides concerned to meet me at-” he noticed the armchair, which had been knocked onto its back. A twisted mass of metal was buried in its back cushion and multiple little fires were raging. “My chair!” he glared. “Who did that?”
No one spoke, but the Hydra flak tanks and devilfish both started to slowly back away.
“Fine, be that way,” muttered Trevor. “I want the leaders of both sides to meet me in at the side table over there.” He pointed at it (48) and then paused. “Wait a minute…Where’s Nicole?” he looked around. He was met with a sea of blank faces. “My girlfriend? A lady? About this big?” he held his hands up to where his chin was.
A pair of officers shared a look, before one, with an impressive cossack mustache, cleared his throat while the other got on his vox and started hurriedly transmitting. The mustachioed one nodded "she is safe, very safe, we are guarding her unconscious form so the tyrainids do not eat her."
“Shit,” said Trevor “Tyrani-…wait…unconscious?”
"wh-when she saw us marching up from the lower floor of this fort, she just sorta fell over. At first we thought she might’ve had a heart attack, but a scout confirmed she was merely unconscious." Mustache Man said hurriedly.
Trevor walked over to where Commander Cossack was pointing and saw that indeed Nicole was lying on the floor, with several tanks surrounding here. A dozen engineers were frantically stuffing some sort of wiring and rope under the fridge.
Just to make sure, he checked. She was indeed unconscious, but otherwise fine. He walked back into the living room.
“Right. All leaders will meet me at the god damned table over there.” He pointed. “And their retinues” he added as an afterthought.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2015 17:03:54 GMT
after some hurried communication and a bit of valkyire shuttling- after they had convinced trevor they were not going to use them to shoot him and merely for ease of speed- all three Ivans were on top of the table, quietly waiting for everyone to get settled.
Valdimir turned slightly and took a swig of soothing vodka, Rasputin mumbled about not getting to kill germans, and Reichstein was hurriedly giving commands to all his men, making sure no guns were pointed in an unsafe direction and to keep those trigger fingers sparce.
The tension was like wire, xenos and enemies forced to not kill each other by a probably near unstoppable giant.
“let us hope comrades, that this can end peacefully....”
“indeed Reichstein, but the germans are a crafty sort, I do not trust them.” Rapsutin piped in.
“and nor I the tau, but for now, we must do what we must. If they fire first, our men know what to do.”
|
|
|
Post by Darko on Sept 5, 2015 17:49:44 GMT
The Destroyers kept their weapons trained on the Space Marines, tracking them with clinical precision. They floated closer to the ground, keeping level with the crude anti-gravity craft. It touched down and the Destroyers hovered roughly a meter off the ground, keeping the Marines encircled as they lay down their weapons. "Move away from the weapons," demanded Noravyn, herding their two captives a few meters from their land speeder and equipment. They had played along this far, and to refuse now would only see them cut down. While a member of the 20th legion was never truly unarmed even without weapons, they could tell that the advanced array of guns aimed at them were not something to trifle with using their fists. There was a pause as Noravyn silently signaled the all clear to the Overlord. Korsarovekh emerged from the hole in the metal blast door, surrounded by his royal court. They marched in silent unison directly towards the Space Marines. Meanwhile, the rest of their force remained concealed for the moment, lest they risk being exposed to unnecessary danger. Korsarovekh always considered as many possibilities as he could, and in this case it was highly possible that these two were merely the advanced scouts for a larger task force. Nonetheless, he was also very curious. They had not behaved as he expected - instead of attacking their Doom Scythe they simply followed it. Furthermore, they had not immediately attacked Noravyn and his Destroyers in a fit of enraged zealotry as he had come to expect from their kind. The small but elite group of Necrons reached where Noravyn watched the prisoners, his warscythe held threateningly close to them. Korsarovekh knew that his lust to kill was growing more extreme with each passing moment, barely held in check. He spoke to his old friend in their own language. "Lord Noravyn, move aside. I shall address the captives personally. If this is some form of trap born of their low-cunning, then you will be free to slaughter them all." Noravyn tilted his head a fraction of an inch to one side, then withdrew his weapon. The Destroyers moved out of the way, though kept between the Space Marines and their weapons. The Lychguard formed a circle around the Marines, with the ones wielding vicious warscythes flanking Korsarovekh and keeping the prisoners at a distance. He switched to the language of the humans. He had learned it from Cryptek Vasziron, who had in turn learned it from both those prisoners he used in his experiments as well as the databases they had recovered from settlements they had conquered. "Humans. I am Overlord Korsarovekh, leader of the Torun Dynasty of the Necrons. I do not know how my warriors and I came to be in this colossal fortress of yours, however--" He stopped talking the moment that he heard the roaring of some gigantic engine. Looking to his right, he watched with great interest and apprehension as a huge metal vehicle of some kind trundled towards them. Vasziron prepared to activate his Veil of Darkness and spirit them away from danger, but he waited a moment when he calculated that the behemoth machine was decreasing its speed with each passing millisecond. The Lychguard never took their eyes off of the prisoners. It was of no consequence if they died. They only feared failing to protect their charge and even then, it was a quiet echo of the emotion it once was. The transport stopped and its engine ceased rumbling. Its side broke apart, and out of it stepped a life form so huge that it dwarfed even the largest of Necron war machines. It did not seem to even notice them as it headed to the front of the fortress, each footstep a heavy thump that made the very ground beneath them vibrate. It appeared to interact with a section of the exterior wall using some form of hand-held device that made the wall open inwards and then reform after the creature had disappeared inside. "Overlord... Every instrument I possess confirms that leviathan is a human, albeit enlarged many times more than normal," Vasziron explained. He spoke in the language of the humans, perhaps because his leader did, perhaps because he was too distracted by this new discovery to care for secrecy. "Its size appears to match the dimensions of this fortress. My conclusion is that this is no fortress at all, instead it is merely a dwelling of a scale that befits such a leviathan." Korsarovekh turned back to their captives. The bodies crafted for himself and his elite Lychguard were the toughest of them all, built for war and endurance. The genetically-engineered humans were tall, yet the Necrons were slightly taller still. But after seeing that leviathan, even Korsarovekh suddenly felt very, very minute. "You," he gestured slightly with his staff that he was once again speaking to the Space Marines. "You shall tell me everything you know about that leviathan. Is your Imperium genetically engineering them for war?" The two Space Marines exchanged a look. Korsarovekh spoke again. "Remove your helms. Attempt to deceive me, and I shall have you flayed alive."
- Korsarovekh, Noravyn, Vasziron, 9 Destroyers, 3 Heavy Destroyers and 14 Lychguard in front of the garage door interrogating two Space Marines.
- Rest of Necron force hidden behind the garage door, ready to exit but maintaining a defensive formation.
|
|
|
Post by admiral9 on Sept 5, 2015 17:53:22 GMT
Silent strike gathered his second in command and the german leader, von Böhm, they had already had a short introduction and currently they had diffirent priorities then getting to know eachother. With an honor guard of two battlesuits and a devilfish to transport fireblade and the german the tau-german coalition made their way for the table, leaving the battlesuits to guard the devilfish silent strike, fireblade and von Böhm had arrived at the meeting place straight opposite of the imperial forces.
|
|
|
Post by Nepty on Sept 5, 2015 18:31:45 GMT
"Right" Trevor surveyed the figures before him. On the far right, nearest the wall, was the group Trevor had decided was the Imperial Guard. Mustachio Cossack was evidently their leader. He was flanked by a pair of others, who looked slightly different. One wore a brown-green uniform. Their 'honor guard' seemed to include a pair of men who looked like cyborg tzarist russians, with lasrifles taut across their chests, and a pair of men who were clearly from the USSR, with green clothing, helmets and bolt action rifles. A tech preist stood behind them, and a sour old man with an eight foot chainsword -some sort of preist, Trevor guessed, from his garb, was studying the bronze statute of Ares on the table with interest. Trevor had gotten that from a knicknack shop and quite liked the statue. He hoped no one would blow it up or anything.
To the left of the Space Russians and the Past Russians was a group that Trevor labeled the Buzz Lightyear Convention. In ridiculously oversized power armor, huge pauldrons, and clutching boxy bolt guns, the Space Marines struck an impressive site. There were five of them, led by a captain. The Astartes all had blacked-out Pauldron heraldry.
To the far right were Tau. Goat-frogs, he recalled, who worshiped communism. He wondered why they and the soviets had been fighting before.
On the far right was perhaps the most sinister assemblage of men. They were obviously German soldiers from World War Two. Trevor, a student of history often felt that he had remarkably little prejudice, but still felt uneasy around these servants of evil. At least he didn't see any SS tabs on their necks.
Meanwhile, Nicole had been moved onto the couch behind him.
"So," he began. "Let's start with why you were trying to demolish my house."
A dozen angry voices began arguing at once. Trevor puffed out his cheeks and blew hard at them all. The extreme wind knocked some men on their asses. The rest seemed slightly dazed by the miniature hurricane. "Okay new plan. Why don't you start with your names and who you are?"
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2015 18:40:29 GMT
after some discussion, it was decided Ivan would go first.
“I am Ivan Reichstein, Commander of the Vostroyan Firstborn, and decided high Commander of the Vost-Russo Alliance, due to my peoples higher tech and better understanding of the degenerates and xenos infesting your fort.”
Next, stepped forward Ivan Rasputin. “i am Ivan Rasputin, Commander of the 66th Russian Infantry, enemy to all germans, Friend to all who oppose them.”
Last, but not least, stepped forward Ivan Valdimir.
“good day gentlemen of all races, I am Ivan Vladimir, Commander of the Russian 66th Tank division. I apologize for the damage to your establishment, but we had little reason from our perspective to have the luxury of thinking giants inhabited it.”
|
|