The evening before their deployment to Proteus, the Cohort gathered in their finest dress uniforms. The soft clinking of silverware and hushed conversations created a peaceful ambiance as they settled into their seats.
You have been anticipating this moment. It's your first chance to wine and dine with the upper class that you aspire to join. Your long blonde hair has been carefully washed by one of the Cohort's professional barbers and repaired from being flattened under your helmet.
Ah, tis time to hobnob with the finest. Good thing we fixed the helmet hair, I can't imagine that would present the right image to the 'quality'. Love that we didn't need to go out for this, just the regiments in house barber. Because Franc!
Appearances are important, especially for those aspiring to high society. A skilled aesthetech of the Alpyne Tech-Clans had subtly prepared you for high society. Nothing major, just preparations to give you a timeless appearance. An emphasized slightly androgynous build, safeguarded against the onset of aging and stress by a few injections, a tightening of the cheeks, and your jawline being made just a slightly bit more fierce.
You know that its a common jest among the men and women that you're the prettiest officer in the Sub-Section, and it does get a chuckle out of you. Personally, you'd be happy to assert a bit more of a masculine appearance, but have learned to appreciate it's beauty, and the way it helps pave the way for high society.
MC: "I would prefer to be ruggedly handsome, but the nobility has their preferences.". But this does illustrate just how much of a self-reinforcing thing the image culture of Franc nobility has become.
The faint scent of lilacs lingers around you, applied alongside corrective makeup. The same smell that came from the little herbal garden around the small country estate of your family.
Fiercely ambitious, your parents did not indulge in frivolous luxury, instead putting their wealth into investments of metal and flesh alike. The smell is a reminder of home and brings comfort in this unfamiliar and uncertain environment.
Nice touch about Herrand's home life and how he grew up. His parents were caring, but instilled their same ambition in their son and were not big on spending money for the sake of it. Money was a tool to them and best used in ways that would either get them repayment on that investment or some other return.
Your family's wealth is notable, but utterly lacking in power and prestige. No ancient pedigree, no maker's mark of a Tech-Clan, Labour Guild, or Corpclave.
That is why you are here.
If not for the damn Martians, your family would be providing arms to the Expeditionary Fleets. But your family can not compete with Martian lasguns, and so you instead arm the troops that remain. Good reliable weaponry for militia, second line formations, enforcers, private security, and lesser Arbites precincts.
So we aren't getting the best deals but even with the 'lesser markets' the Sallas family is still able to make money even more than before due to the wider Imperium markets.
You allow yourself to indulge in the luxury and extravagance of the officer's dining hall. The Argent Heart's grand dining hall is a sea of navy blue and white, accentuated with gold accents and buttons to match any visible cybernetics. The menu for the evening is opulent, fitting for the status of the Cohort's officers. Veal, truffles, fillet mignon, caviar, foie gras escargot - each dish is more exquisite than the last.
To accommodate the officers' preferences, polished wooden tables have been brought aboard the Jovian troop transport, causing great expense and complaints from the Voidborn. Servants move elegantly between tables, laying out fine china and silverware. You suppress a smile at the memory of the overly critical Tech-Shaman from Mars grumbling about an all-human catering and kitchen staff.
This helps to remind that even in, no
especially in the Great Crusade the Imperiums smallest ships were floating fucking cities. Love how this also showcases that when you could live well, you did so VERY well in setting.
Also love the bit about the wooden tables and the human staff. Them tech priests dont' get *style*.
"A moment if you would, Sub-Lieutenant."
You stop dead in your tracks as you hear the voice of Legate Marshal Mardon Lentierre from behind you. It overpowers the pride you feel at being addressed by your new rank for the first time.
Oho, so the head honcho of the Cohort hath noticed us has he? We really DID make waves helping the 9th Legion with that atmo station.
Also him refering to Herrand by his new rank first, I doubt that was accidental, very nice bit of psychology on the Legate Marshal's part.
Legate Marshal Mardon is a surprisingly small man, although he does well to hide it. The Frank is sealed inside a suit of life support armour that has been richly decorated. An oxygen mask covers his face, and a nasogastric tube goes down his nose, both connected to a backpack which contains his life support and the fusion reactor which powers it.
You've read the stories about the old Marshal, both the official memoirs and the accounts of his soldiers, a company commander in the Second Frontier army that defeated the first Imperial invasion of Franc over a century ago, where he personally led a bayonet charge to kill a wounded Custodes.
Oh wow, yeah he's on the limit of what even Rejuv can make work, in terms of recovering the body.
He fought in the imperial invasion and took down a Custodes huh? I can see why this old dog is still able to bare a mouth full of teeth.
Although this was before the Custodes wore their new Auramite armour, and had still worn armour without powered enhancements, which the Legate Marshal has aggressively reminded people of. Emphasising that the Custodes was more burnt meat and molten armour than posthuman warrior when the charge happened and that the Custodes was still able to kill most of his men.
"Yes I did it, but I did it because I made a suicidal charge at the right moment and it STILL almost failed. So don't hype me up *too* much." as it were.
That aside, still an impressive feat and something I can easily see making him worthy of notice to big e and malc.
You gawk for a moment and then nod eagerly. A moment with the Legate Marshal? It would advance your ambitions greatly.
The heavy gauntlet of his life support-armour is put on your shoulder and he quickly ushers you away from the mess hall and towards his private dining suite. Your mind races as you consider what you want to ask first.
Oho, we're getting a private meeting? This IS veddy interesting. Even for our deed, such a private moment would be VERY rare....the thick plottens.
"I have read your dossier after your successful mission, as I was impressed by your actions and wanted to learn more about you and something caught my eye. You're a child of the Sallas family right? The autogun makers? If so do tell me. Why does your family specialise in those? Las is where the real money is made after all."
It was blatantly evident to you. Your family background had caught his attention and now he was assessing your worth.
Hmm, so poking at the new fish to see if he's worth cultivating, and so soon? Yes this marshal is indeed no fool and has earned his place at the top despite his age. Ngl, I'm now more cautious of him.
The sales pitch for Sallas Arms Autoguns had been drilled into your brain, almost like a hypno-conditioning. "A garrison doesn't need a lasgun. A reliable Sallas autogun will do the job. It won't jam, it has just the right weight, and can withstand even harsh environmental conditions."
A smug smirk appears on his thin lips. "I'm well acquainted with their marketing strategy, Sub-Lieutenant. They plastered it all over the self defense vid-networks." He adjusts the tube in his nose before continuing. "But I must ask, why does your family not produce any Las-weapons?"
Hehe, yes it is a good bit isn't it?
Better to fill a niche and fill it well than trying to do too much and be outdone by the specialists.
You frown in annoyance. "Franc is a nation of Autogun factories. Only the Ef-En Tech-Clan produces las-weapons but they primarily supply the state for Imperial Tithe payments. And I hardly consider them proper Franks." You add another issue to the mix. "And with the War Council's mandate for power-pack infantry weapons for the Imperial army and Solar Auxilia, it has severely restricted our arms industry. Sallas is forced to rely on equipping the police forces of other states and provincial militias to turn a profit."
Heh, love the rivalry of what is considered 'properly French' from the old days. So the lasguns, as good as they are overall, are still something that is a bit too advanced tech for us to just get to without massive technical uplifting. Thus with those that CAN make them more easily cornering that market, we are lost to the military market we used to have and are balanced out by the fact that the entire planet's militia and police are now buying from us as I mentioned before. Similar volume and money, less prestige and changes for name brand recognition.
There is no mention of the fact that although the sales of autoguns are as good as they've ever been. Sallas Arms are being typecast as low status manufacturer, which is reducing possible contracts.
Yup, we're actually looking, at least in Francish terms, like a group that has fallen from our previous height and are having to 'lower ourselves' to make ends meet as we did before. So buying from us is now seen as something you do if you can't afford better, rather than buying from those that do autoguns the best.
A nod of approval. He continues. "Do you know why it is almost impossible for Franc to break into the business of selling firearms to the Imperial Army?"
A deep frown creases your brow. Your words drip with bitterness and resentment as you discuss the state of the solar intra-system commerce. "Not to mention, Mars has an iron grip on lasguns for the Imperial Army, and Saturn is undisputed as the source of Lasrifles for the Solar Auxilia." You shake your head. "I know some Franc merchants have made a profit selling artificer-made high-grade energy weapons and exotic techno-arcana." A field that has always been out of reach for your family, despite their wealth and influence.
Drattitude, the fanceh is above our reach...for now. But yeah, with Mars and Saturn having a higher tech base, it makes the price and resources needed to catch up prohibitive to say the least.
He interlocks his fingers, creating a steeple. "The techno-clan crafting techniques may always have a market, but they are too slow for competition. Franc lacks the necessary crafting expertise and knowledge of obscure technology to be a major competitor with the Martians and Saturnynes. Our domestic production of lasrifles relies heavily on old machinery and foundries that we cannot replicate." He studies your reaction, giving you a chance to respond.
Yup, and mars has no reason to uplift Franc's ability to make the guns as it's just better to focus on fixing and improving mars.
"There will always be a demand in our domestic market," you mumble, chewing on your lower lip. "But it limits our industry's growth potential."
"You are well-informed. I presume this is because your family business holds significant importance to you?"
"Absolutely, sir."
Yup, we aren't going to *lose* money but we'd at best be treading water, neither improving or losing. That's almost worse than things getting worse, as at least with things getting worse you can adapt and change, with stagnation, it'd hurt things too much to do so.
He acknowledges your statement with a nod. "I've thoroughly researched your family's business. Your family controls each step in the production chain of autoguns and the machines used to make them. You have no outdated foundries or ancestral obligations to hold you back. From mining the ore to creating the Autoguns, your family handles every aspect of the process and have the knowledge and expertise needed to replicate it. That is quite rare."
You give a reluctant nod in agreement. "Unfortunately, it also means we lack the prestige and the credit. Our Autoguns may be top-notch, but no first line army unit wants to purchase them. We don't have any prestigious Maker's Mark from Mars or from an ancient pre-Old Night foundry adorning our works."
We're serviceable and quality, but we're quality of something that is considered near bargain bin in terms of commonality or value. That we have a near Henry Ford level control of our production process is probably a good part of what is allowing us to tread water as we can ensure costs don't rise alongside a lack of better business.
The old Marshal's eyes twinkled as he poured himself a glass of red wine. He leaned back and talked to himself out loud, "What if Franc became a player in the offworld arms market … beyond the Solar System? what If it became the first to arrive at new worlds to provide manufacturing infrastructure without all the red tape the Martians bring with them."
Your smile widened as you understood the implications. You quickly hid your excitement and nodded, pretending to just be humouring the musings of an old man.
That is a VERY intriguing hypothetical scenario...do go on as such a, hypothetical we must emphasize, situation would allow our House to be doing what we do here...but across the Imperium at large...that is a LOT of guns.
"But as you know, the license for offworld arms trading is hard to acquire, and there's currently little demand for anything other than top of the line equipment," the Marshal continued.
You couldn't agree more. Your family had been trying to obtain that coveted license for years, but without proof of an active contract, it was nearly impossible.
Naturally those that have them already do not want more competition, ah, corporations messing with government contracts, always such fun.
The Marshal went on, "All the las-weapon sellers are content with supplying only the Imperium. The Martians are bastards and will only produce for you, if you give them land and let them do what they wish. And nobody is selling wholesale weapons-manufacturing infrastructure. But once the wars begin, there will be many worlds requiring equipment. Uniforms, Helmets, arms, and munitions. And who will sell to these planetary militias and colonial efforts? None will, I'd say. It is a tragedy waiting to happen."
You took another sip of wine, the red liquid flavoured with the sweet sweet taste of insider knowledge. "Quite tragic, sir."
Indeed, such a poor state of affairs for the various colony militias and the PDFs of newly liberated members of the Imperium. If
only there was a Francish company that specialized in cheap, quality, and reliable autoguns that would allow the populations to be effectively armed while developing their economies. Oh who will answer the call?
The Marshal smiles. "Although, speaking of equipment. My retinue will require new pistols at some point. Quite a sizeable amount in fact. Although I unfortunetly have not found a proper source yet."
"Please continue musing, sir."
The Marshal nodded. "You had Veletaris assigned to your sub-tercio. Their leader is the scion of the Chjandelmak family." He leans forward and gives a grin that makes it very clear what he wants next. "Take very good care of them."
...Aah, so this is what would have happened if we had chosen that route...Being marked for friggin death by our Cohort general...le oof.
But still, with how bloody the fights are, I'm sure we can make this happen without needing to be too open a bastard about it. Especially if, as it seems, he's offering a contract as a way to get in on getting an offworld trade license.
You blink at the implication, wondering for a moment why the Marshal wanted this person dead. The Chjandelmak were low nobility, were they not? One of the previous crop of nobles that were overthrown by the last revolution. But to kill someone as they served in the Imperial Military almost felt off. And it would need to be done discreetly.
You do not show a hint of emotion as you signal a waiter and have him bring you the veal cutlet in truffle sauce and a glass of wine. Rank has its advantages.
Ah, yes, they were overthrown and thus 'outlaws'/'exiled' from the safety of the joined ranks of the nobility. And Herrand is right, trying to kill a fellow officer like that is still eesh even for the Imperial Military, especially in the Great Crusade when things weren't nearly as bad on the corruption and degredation.
Legate Marshal Mardon Lentierre, leader of your Cohort, has made it known that he requires someone in the Regiment killed, in a way that does not incriminate him.
If the Veletaris Section is destroyed on Proteus in a way that does not arouse suspicion, then your family will be richly rewarded. This means not sending him on his own against a by far superior foe.
The turn after the battles on Proteus are over, you will be given the opportunity to make use of the knowledge you acquired.
So it's our axe regiment then? That...is more doable than one would think, especially since we're going to Proteus. We don't need to openly send him to his death, just...ensure he holds the line in battle, against xenos.
You feel the heavy dropship shake as it carries your Tercio to the surface of Proteus. Sergeant Philip "Pip" leans over and mutters to you, "That Proteus fella is a real ugly bastard, ain't it?" Some of the other non-commissioned officers and lower-ranked officers around you chuckle at his remark, but quickly fall silent when Lieutenant Albert Nellyat, commander of Tercio Primaris, takes the stage.
You can't help but eye his uniform and rank insignia, silently pondering what you will look like in the same position someday.
Ah, pre battle banter...killed by the CO coming in to spoil the fun. Booo.
"Attention, soldiers," Albert barks, his expression stern. The Lieutenant has donned his Void-Armour and is followed closely by a burly lifeward whose head constantly moves from side to side as he scans the room, possibly a Nervejack implant for speed. "You will be in the second line of our attack on Proteus. Our mission is to eliminate the Xenoform mass! Proteus is a Class-A Xenos infestation, capable of spreading to other worlds if it absorbs enough energy or if it isn't destroyed properly." He presses a few buttons on his left gauntlet, bringing up a hololith in the helmet of each soldier in the dropship.
Yup, got info on this before and good to hear it relayed IC to Herrand, this is a REALLY nasty threat that could have easily infested the Kuiper belt and been a nightmare to clear out. Let us not give it the chance.
He adjusts the Hololith's display to show the size of the moon and the massive, foreign flesh that has engulfed part of it. "Proteus feeds off on electromagnetic energy and cannot be killed with energy weapons alone and breaking it apart with kinetics risks contaminating the Solar System. Therefore, we will resort to a traditional method - chemical sprayers and flamethrowers."
At least we have a stable landing zone that isn't going to be in the middle of whatever that thing is. We'll be stopping it from advancing and then pushing it back.
Fire is always mankind's temperamental fren.
"We will land, and immediately engage the mass. The Cymoeba are an unknown threat, but are liable to become agitated once we begin the assault. When we do, it will be our task to engage their ground forces as the Mechanicum and the Revenant Legion begin clearing away our enemy. Destroyer Sections are authorised to deploy Phosphex. Rad bombardment has already commenced, and we will be fighting in a rad-zone. Keep an eye on your counteragents and exposure. Rad-treatments are a bitch."
The Lieutenant slams a fist on his chest and shouts. "Vive L'Empereur!" A shout echoed by the soldiers.
We hold while they advance, that's almost more important due to the fact that we NEED to maintain our LZ for more forces to come in, and supplies, as it's going to be if I'm reading this right, one main landing zone.
Gotcha, so we're going to unleashing angy hug fire en masse AND using radiation to try to cause them to turn coolaid
The landing on Proteus was uncontested, and the Seventh Cohort was able to file out and begin the march on the Cymoeba immediately upon landing. Fifty-thousand soldiers deploy onto the surface within an hour, their landing ships to be used as bases while deployed within the vacuum, while more troops are preparing to land on command once the battle has begun.
Damn, so the planet thing either can't or won't extend beyond its membrane...that gives us the chance to set up like we see here, but this also means that when we DO initiate combat, the cymoeba are going to come out in FORCE.
The newly reconstituted Sub-Tercio Delta is arrayed out half a kilometre from the edge of Proteus's mass. You look out at the front lines with your enhanced magnification settings on your helmet. There is a chain of vacuum-rated heavy servitors ,and Solar Auxilia, and Revenant Legion formations, all of them equipped with chemical sprayers and flamethrowers, preparing to burn through the mass.
"Time to clear out the soap scum."
Joking aside, this is a pretty potent force being deployed, and this is only one of many..and it might not be enough.
our Sub-Tercio is in the back, ready to move into the fighting once it begins. The non-existent air is tense as the Imperium digs in, sets up its weapons, and prepares for the fighting.
Void-Sergeant Jeanne is rousing her squad by talking about the rewards for this fight. Void-Sergeant Amélie meanwhile is patrolling her section, examining their positions and scolding the slightest failure she can take note of, of which there are few. "Pip" is preparing his servitors, stasis-chest with Phosphex shells, and ensuring that his Rapier is ready to fire.
Our officers once again making the rounds and ensuring their sections/platoons are up to snuff, good good. Each one's method are very nicely detailed to reflect their background and personality, me likee.
You glance at the new sections and their leaders. You know their names, but not who they are. And personally, you'd rather not learn their personalities on the eve of such a major battle. Perhaps afterwards, if they prove lucky enough to be worth emotionally investing into.
The Veletaris Sergeant, Anniet Chjandelmak, fidgets slightly as he adjusts the grip on his Storm-Axe. His Veletaris are practising team drills, fighting in pairs against superior foes.
Yup, reminds me of an Imperial Guard book about a fresh regiment that gets sent to the wrong planet and it's a world fighting off the orks, guy is not asked his name and told it doesn't matter unless he can make it three days...sadly he doesn't.
So this is the man we need to...look after. Pity.
You just sit there and lean over the stone you're using for cover. Down the hill, the attack is about to start. You whistle a command and your troops immediately move into position, ready to fire down in support of the front ranks.
Across Proteus, tens of thousands of Solar Auxilia in the front ranks, from eight Cohorts, all begin to march forward. The newer Terran Cohorts moving in tight formations, whereas the single Saturnyne Cohort that is assisting you, will be moving in small squads under heavy rapier support. Across a front stretching fifty kilometres, the attack begins.
So it begins. With pomp and uniformity...both of which the mire of battle will tar heavily.
As the first flamers begin to burn away the surface layer of Proteus, the mass begins to shiver.
Where the mass has burnt and cracked, a thick transparent liquid that defies the near-vacuum flows forward, marble-sized creatures swimming through it. The liquid moves with uncanny purpose, slithering up the legs of those Solar Auxilia and servitors close enough to be engulfed. You can see the flamers being dropped as the men are brought down by creatures adhering to the suits and burning through as they dissolve, allowing the liquid inside.
Oh...oh this is horrifying. Yeah it's not going to be hard to find a battle for the dude to die in without it just being a suicide mission...odds are we're going to lose him trying to survive...Gods, being digested alive by alien monsters...and these are just the local problem.
You mute the vox to shut off the sounds of good soldiers melting into a sludge that flows through the fluid in red patches, even as their suits are dutifully disassembled by swarms of the creatures working in cooperation.
"Inflammation." Amélie growls. "Fluid. Those things must be the antibodies."
Ah, so we're the 'infection'...yeah nah, Begone planetary plague, burn in righteous flames!
"Then we should be able to see the white blood cells as well." You mumble, flicking your Volkite Serpenta off the safety. Your Sub-Tercio is tense, glaring at the sight of the frontline pulling back and hitting the mass of Proteus with their flamers, trying to burn away the fluid, even as gouts of caustic chemicals are sent splashing across the meat of Proteus.
Scaled sections of the hills slough off, detaching and sliding open to reveal arrayed legions of Cymoeba infantry. They advance through the fluid, unbothered by the antibodies advancing to the edge of the fluid and moving no further. The macro-cells flow up their forms, bringing with them biomass and machinery that begins to augment their ranks.
The Antibodies have a limit to their range, makes sense and thus it seems fitting that the Cymoebas are the solution by this alien race to ensure that anything outside the membrane is dealt with.
Emerging from hydraulic elevators of equal parts meat and steel that open like the winking of a great eye, are the enemy war-walkers. The creatures, each the size of a tank, open fire with cybernetic bio-lasers. Great fleshy maws on the tanks open up, sucking down the liquified Solar Auxilia and drinking deep, glowy nodules on their bodies glowing brighter as they do.
Oh goodie, so they are power boosted by liquid people. You do a great job mayto of bringing the horrors of what crept in during the Old Night to the mind's eye.
"Open fire!" You command. The Lasrifles of your Sub-Tercio join the rest of the Sub-Cohort as they pour lasbolts into the enemy assault, even as Sub-Cohort Tertius near the front engages the aliens in close quarters firefights. There is an advantage to being the second line
Ayup but I doubt we're going to get to enjoy said advantage for long.
Within a minute, the horizon is alight with streaks of lasfire, pillars of white, and the distant flashes of actinic light as rad-munitions are deployed on the great beast. Your armour begins injecting you with pre-emptive counter-agents to ward off the radiation. A chill runs down your spine as you see the amount of Phosphex being deployed across the surface of Proteus is producing enough smoke to turn the sky white. Spheres of purple emerge intermittently as Vortex munitions detonate.
Ye gods, we're unleashing ALL the messed up weaponry for this and it's at best allowing us to ensure parity between our ground forces. The sky being turned white by all the phosphex, that's gotta be some stuff like the imagery used in "Hellfire' from hunchback.
The first Astartes drop-pods and landing crafts begin to descend onto the battlefield, spilling out Revenant Legion Destroyer squads who immediately begin unloading rad-missiles and firing chem-throwers into the enemy. The Solar Auxilia retreat stalls for a moment, and the tide begins to turn.
Then the order goes out across the vox-net. "Advance."
Time to keep pushing...things are only going to heat up from here.
You crouch back down behind the grey corpse of the Revenant space marine, scooting over so the Apothecary cutting into it can perform his work. After he finishes, he slams down the corpse of the Solar Auxiliary that had covered the Revenant before and re-secures it into the barricade with a spray of armour cement. Your Sub-Tercio has taken negligible losses so far, as the front lines are still taking the brunt of the beating.
Ye gods, I can only imagine how much the front lines have been ground to pulp by the fighting based on what we saw in the opening.
You feel the body behind you shudder as Cymoeba small arms fire digs into it. Your Volkite chimes and you unplug it from the Marine's backpack. Glancing up out of cover, you examine the battlefield unfolding at the edge of Proteus's mass. In the sky, you see an Imperial Frigate burn its engines as hard as it can, trying to break free of a tentacle that seeks to draw it onto a massive maw.
Heh, we were recharging our weapon from the same marine's pack, and the Apothecary didn't care. With the 9th Legion, it makes sense.
Ye...okay, so this thing can extend tentacles big enough to draw in floating cities for it to EAT. Yup, glad we came to fight this, sincerely, it needs to die and we need to be a part of this outright cleansing.
On the left flank, you see Ogryn-sized walkers that are lashing out with tentacles fitted with buzzing blades and drills. They snatch up the dead and dying, throwing them into a mouth like a mixture of a snake and a grinder. Veletaris with storm-axes are fighting back, working in teams of two, hacking at the tendrils and legs of the foe, while a Support Section with Volkites are providing covering fire.
Hoo boy, this is going to be rough. The storm axes aren't even taking them down in pairs in one go, they're having to cut off their limbs *first*.
On the right flank, the Revenant Legion has taken a crater and is holding it from a heavy Cymoeba assault. They are in the process of firing Phosphex upon the enemy, although the Cymoeba are retaliating with their own chemical launchers from some kind of tank-sized Scorpid construct.
oh goodie, a chemical warfare snowball fight...what fun.
In the centre, you can see that the line is starting to buckle. Lieutenant Albert and Sub-Tercios Alpha and Beta are holding off a much larger force of Cymoeba, half of them have bodies suited for melee combat.
So they're being forced into a melee fight and they don't have the troops there to make it work...I think we know where we need to send whatshisname with suitable support as their issue isn't a lack of bodies on their end, but needing someone to be meat shield to ensure that they can do the shoot.
The Lieutenant is going to be killed any moment now, and when it happens, the line is liable to buckle. By the time you get there, he is certain to be dead.
So we can't save him, at best we're delaying or countering the rout. Oof.
But the Cymoeba will be bloodied, and a successful assault might throw them off the hill and allow for a drop pod assault on your position to aid in throwing the enemy back.
If we charge in, we can drive the enemy back and get reinforcements to hold this hill area...reminds me of the battle in the Korean war of the trio of hills the marines had to hold and keep taking back.
Or you could dig in, and prepare to hold the breach from the enemy assault, forming a place allied forces can retreat to, hold the line, and call down support.
You glance to each flank, then make your decision.
On the other hand, giving our allies a chance to recover and regroup can be equally important.
Engagement areas:
[]Left Flank:
A Section of Veletaris with storm axes and one with volkites are engaging enemy combat walkers and being pushed back.
At least two units of enemy walkers, and two Cymoeba units.
You are defending.
-Write in if and what you will deploy.
This one I think would be one we can send a couple lasgun units to even things out and reinforce the fight. The walkers most likely won't be taken down by the flamethrowers, as they have armor, and we'd be defending so the Arty boost wouldn't be there iirc. Yeah, either sending just lasguns or risking our storm axes and that they might survive are the best options.
[]Center:
Lieutenant Albert and sub-sections Alpha and Beta are being overrun by the Cymoeba. You will not be able to save them in time.
-Write in which Sections you will deploy.
-Write in if you will:
Attack to take the Cymoeba by surprise, requesting reinforcements as you do so.
Dig in and let them come to you, while requesting reinforcements.
This could be the best way to focus our units to have the best effect by having our arty attacking to give them the boost, and with our flamer units and the storm axes, they and any lasguns we send will be covered in time for the reinforcements to get to us.
[]Right Flank: Thee large forces of Cymoeba and a supporting construct are attempting to breach a crater held by a squad of the Revenant Legion.
You are defending.
This Engagement is Hostile. You will need to roll for attrition.
-Write in if and what you will deploy.
Oof...this could work for the Storm axes too if we want to whittle them down without looking obvious. I am debating
Planning is going to be tricky.
