Sterbelicht - One Sacrifice At A Time Against The Galaxy (40K)
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Undead Go Crunch: Do the Math - [Canon]
Undead Go Crunch: Do the Math
It was all about the numbers.
One Medium Angel walker, four autocannons, two thousand four hundred and twelve rounds of ammunition. And about a hundred thousand zombies, scattered over a city-sized section of graveyard and busy besieging holdouts of fanatical nuns and graveyard-keepers.
This was the kind of math that the 1st Itanian SAG was becoming adept at. Heavy armor was excellent at converting munitions, parts and fuel into enemy casualties and captured positions.
But no matter how Lieutenant Slenda did the math, the numbers just didn't work out.
If she circled her walker around a crowd of the zombies they would crowd close together to in their attempts to get to her, and individual autocannon rounds would get as many as six zombies. She'd gotten nine once by aiming at head level, but that wasn't a trick she could pull off two thousand times, or even two hundred.
She'd thought about trying to crush them under her walker, but that had been the closest she'd ever come to death. The hymns of the star-child had warded away the nauseating whispers, and a quick retreat had brought her to a bastion of the nuns who had cleansed the maggots crawling up her walker's legs. They'd kept the flames going longer than necessary, but Slenda couldn't blame them. It paid to be sure about these things.
After that Slenda had kept her distance from the mobs of undead. There'd still been a few close calls, when she'd nearly been penned in by multiple hordes. But her walker's mobility had sufficed each time, scaling mausoleums or grave-hills that the zombies could not pass so easily.
It would have been easier if they'd all been gathered in one place - then she could have called in some of the very limited air support to move towards securing this city-sized chunk of graveyard. It occupied a broad valley in the largest continent's largest mountain range, and the locals seemed to call it the "Saint's Embrace." Just which Saint, nobody seemed to know, but that was the name, so that was what Slenda called it.
"Any Thules around? I've got about five thousand zombies in a nice big pile, just waiting for a strafing run." She called into the vox, expecting no more answer than last time.
To her surprise, a female voice came out of the Vox, tight and focused. "This is Thule-seven-eight-four-four. Negative on your request, Angel twelve-three. Support is needed to the south of your position, at the convent of the Saint's Bosom. All munitions are needed there to prevent it from being overrun. If able, you are to divert to that position."
Aha. A woman saint! I suppose that makes sense, with all the nuns. I wonder what it's like, being a nun in a place named after breasts.
There was a moment of silence over the channel before the Thule spoke again. "Angel Twelve-three, do you copy?"
Slenda jerked and thumbed the vox again. "Copy that, Thule-seven-err... six eight eight? I'm getting the zombies away from the holdout nuns out here. I'll lose these shufflers and head over. Hope you have enough bombs!"
The voice that greeted her was the slightest bit confused, seemingly shaken out of its laser-focus. "Copy that, Angel twelve-three. See you in base Salvation."
Slenda frowned. Base Salvation didn't have any ammunition to spare. They were secure, but why would she go there? She'd have to give a report, and that was no good. She shrugged, turning the walker around to study the horde of zombies closing in on her. They'd gotten a little close, so she skittered the walker away, managing to only crush a couple of gravestones. She was getting better at this! Well, sort of. She hadn't crushed a lot of gravestones until the last day or so.
Then she looked off into the distance, taking a second to find the grand mausoleum she'd drawn the undead away from. There'd been some nuns inside, and it looked like they'd been trying to seal the place up before they got trapped by the horde. A little group of the undead idiots seemed to be looking back, about to turn around, so Slenda aimed for the densest portion of the horde and fired a few times.
Five. Six. Seven. Six. Eight!
That got their attention, and she made for a shallow lake she'd noted before. It was pretty, with a garden walk around the edges. The water was thoroughly corrupted now, but she bet she could get a bunch of zombies stuck in the water if she guided the horde around the edge. Then she'd go over the row of little chapels she'd noticed earlier. It was her favorite way to lose a horde, since they couldn't follow her over the spiky roofs.
Slenda hummed to herself as she navigated the walker's eight legs over the roof, crushing tiles and knocking loose ornamentation with every step. Normally there'd be two people in an Angel walker, and they'd need to work as a team to manage all the legs. But she could handle it herself, and her Capitan had let her be by herself once she'd shown that. It was a fun puzzle, navigating all of the legs, especially somewhere familiar, like this roof. It was starting to accumulate a lot of damage from all the times she'd crossed over.
Once she lost the most recent horde, she turned south, cocking her head. Those two mountains did kind of look like breasts. She checked her ammo, nodding. She had almost a thousand rounds left! Maybe she could score a ten over at the convent! And then maybe she would sleep, and the whispers wouldn't bother her.
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
It was all about the numbers.
One Medium Angel walker, four autocannons, two thousand four hundred and twelve rounds of ammunition. And about a hundred thousand zombies, scattered over a city-sized section of graveyard and busy besieging holdouts of fanatical nuns and graveyard-keepers.
This was the kind of math that the 1st Itanian SAG was becoming adept at. Heavy armor was excellent at converting munitions, parts and fuel into enemy casualties and captured positions.
But no matter how Lieutenant Slenda did the math, the numbers just didn't work out.
If she circled her walker around a crowd of the zombies they would crowd close together to in their attempts to get to her, and individual autocannon rounds would get as many as six zombies. She'd gotten nine once by aiming at head level, but that wasn't a trick she could pull off two thousand times, or even two hundred.
She'd thought about trying to crush them under her walker, but that had been the closest she'd ever come to death. The hymns of the star-child had warded away the nauseating whispers, and a quick retreat had brought her to a bastion of the nuns who had cleansed the maggots crawling up her walker's legs. They'd kept the flames going longer than necessary, but Slenda couldn't blame them. It paid to be sure about these things.
After that Slenda had kept her distance from the mobs of undead. There'd still been a few close calls, when she'd nearly been penned in by multiple hordes. But her walker's mobility had sufficed each time, scaling mausoleums or grave-hills that the zombies could not pass so easily.
It would have been easier if they'd all been gathered in one place - then she could have called in some of the very limited air support to move towards securing this city-sized chunk of graveyard. It occupied a broad valley in the largest continent's largest mountain range, and the locals seemed to call it the "Saint's Embrace." Just which Saint, nobody seemed to know, but that was the name, so that was what Slenda called it.
"Any Thules around? I've got about five thousand zombies in a nice big pile, just waiting for a strafing run." She called into the vox, expecting no more answer than last time.
To her surprise, a female voice came out of the Vox, tight and focused. "This is Thule-seven-eight-four-four. Negative on your request, Angel twelve-three. Support is needed to the south of your position, at the convent of the Saint's Bosom. All munitions are needed there to prevent it from being overrun. If able, you are to divert to that position."
Aha. A woman saint! I suppose that makes sense, with all the nuns. I wonder what it's like, being a nun in a place named after breasts.
There was a moment of silence over the channel before the Thule spoke again. "Angel Twelve-three, do you copy?"
Slenda jerked and thumbed the vox again. "Copy that, Thule-seven-err... six eight eight? I'm getting the zombies away from the holdout nuns out here. I'll lose these shufflers and head over. Hope you have enough bombs!"
The voice that greeted her was the slightest bit confused, seemingly shaken out of its laser-focus. "Copy that, Angel twelve-three. See you in base Salvation."
Slenda frowned. Base Salvation didn't have any ammunition to spare. They were secure, but why would she go there? She'd have to give a report, and that was no good. She shrugged, turning the walker around to study the horde of zombies closing in on her. They'd gotten a little close, so she skittered the walker away, managing to only crush a couple of gravestones. She was getting better at this! Well, sort of. She hadn't crushed a lot of gravestones until the last day or so.
Then she looked off into the distance, taking a second to find the grand mausoleum she'd drawn the undead away from. There'd been some nuns inside, and it looked like they'd been trying to seal the place up before they got trapped by the horde. A little group of the undead idiots seemed to be looking back, about to turn around, so Slenda aimed for the densest portion of the horde and fired a few times.
Five. Six. Seven. Six. Eight!
That got their attention, and she made for a shallow lake she'd noted before. It was pretty, with a garden walk around the edges. The water was thoroughly corrupted now, but she bet she could get a bunch of zombies stuck in the water if she guided the horde around the edge. Then she'd go over the row of little chapels she'd noticed earlier. It was her favorite way to lose a horde, since they couldn't follow her over the spiky roofs.
Slenda hummed to herself as she navigated the walker's eight legs over the roof, crushing tiles and knocking loose ornamentation with every step. Normally there'd be two people in an Angel walker, and they'd need to work as a team to manage all the legs. But she could handle it herself, and her Capitan had let her be by herself once she'd shown that. It was a fun puzzle, navigating all of the legs, especially somewhere familiar, like this roof. It was starting to accumulate a lot of damage from all the times she'd crossed over.
Once she lost the most recent horde, she turned south, cocking her head. Those two mountains did kind of look like breasts. She checked her ammo, nodding. She had almost a thousand rounds left! Maybe she could score a ten over at the convent! And then maybe she would sleep, and the whispers wouldn't bother her.
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
Angel Medium Walker
-Role: Anti-Infantry/Light Armor/Air
-Propulsion: Spider Legs
-Weaponry: 4x Autocannons
-Lore: Originally designed as an all-terrain solution to the problem of the Federations lacking anti-air, the Angel Medium Walker Design Team quickly changed tracks under the premise that it would never match the near dirt-cheap nature of the Chimera-based Hydra; as such, the Angel was remade to fulfill a pair of different niches. Thanks to its "spider" legs, it can traverse nearly any terrain able to hold its weight, with a limited vertical traversal ability inherited thanks to its choice of locomotion. In addition, the Angel mounts heavier armor than its lighter Anansi-counterpart, allowing it to serve as both anti-air and turn its quad-autocannons upon Infantry and Light Armor targets, serving to clear its vicinity of such threats when enemy air support is not in desperate need of killing.
This is truly part of the Lamenters, these are the parts that other Space Marines forget or leave but the Lamenters always follow and look for. Seriously many wouldn't care but for Lamenter they would risk a lot just to save another child that wouldn't matter at all.
As per the meme
Most Astartes: This planet isn't worth saving, let's get out of here!
Lamenters: Is that farmer in about to be killed by a Tyranid!? RALLY TO ME BROTHERS!
"The planet is lost, why risk your men for a few stragglers?"
"Because the Emperor didn't stutter."
"Tell me Lamenter, how does it feel to die for those so far beneath you"
"Euphoric"
Ohhhhh, I wish I had time for this. This is just asking for a to the knife fight by a surprise and unexpected approach in a fast assault and whos' success disrupts what would have been an iron clad defense and leaves a hole that will be fought to fill for years. Also a great chance to use the Knights and from their perspective. Ahhhh One only wishes we actually did the damn reserach to give them other weapons.
Horde Survival Shooter LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO! honestly left for dead 2 or Doom vibes and it should be a fun write for anyone willing to do it.
Blackangel
Preacher of the dice gods
Love that quote.
Also I did that one, not stopping you but I did it. Also the undead one is about 3 posts above yours.
ConfusedCanuck
Where did it all go wrong?
- Location
- Neverland
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
Doom and Glory - [Canon]
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Doom and Glory
The creation of a Forge World is no easy task.
To transform a standard planet into one of the great bastions of the Martian Priesthood is a work of centuries if not millennia. Years upon years of investment into the construction of truly titanic works of industry. Factories and refineries and forges great enough to supply billions of tons of material and technology to dozens of worlds, as well as the void stations to build, maintain, and repair entire fleets of both warships and merchant-marine.
Qulach's Forge was nowhere near the status of even a minor forge world; but they had been getting there. And one of the sites of investment that had been slowly but surely pulling the once verdant planet to that lofty height was Bewin-03, one of a dozen factory-cities that had been growing upwards and outwards under the watchful gaze of the local Mechanicum, a great concentration of factories pumping out pollution as they produced dozens of critical tools and materials used to keep Neon's ground forces functioning.
The city was critical to the loyalist Mechanicum's fight against the forces of the Fivefold Path; it was greatly unfortunate, then, that the Traitors had managed to take control of a good two-thirds of the manufactories right under the Techpriest's noses, demanding the rapid realocation of forces to retake the critical facilities.
Fighting was ongoing elsewhere in the city, where Skitari and armed menials dueled with cultists in the cramped confines of hab-blocks or factory floors, bloody struggles room-by-room to retake ground-already several facilities of medium value had been retaken with only moderate damage.
But that was beyond the scope of Knight Lemius-3's immediate worries.
No, his concern was the wide street that lay before him, crouched as he was in a side alley, ensconced within the cockpit of his Partner-Steed, listening to a loyalist magos running through the battle plan once again.
A small screen on the side of his cockpit showed a feed from a servo-skull that was watching down the length of the great street before him. It lead to one of the largest manufacturing facilities in the city, Forge-AQ0025. It was the first to fall, and thus the most heavily defended.
Stretching from one side of the eighteen-lane highway to the other was a great barricade, a strange thing made up of everything from well-made prefab bunkers containing traitor Skitari armed with heavy weapons to scrap metal heaps that sheltered cultists bedecked in rags and wielding simple autoguns, with the former being placed behind the later, with a gradual increase in quality stretching back from the front line of the layered defenses to the rear.
And worst of all, looming behind these layers of defenses were a trio of the horrific creations known as Crucible Stars; some kind of crude daemon-engine, the Crucibles were squat, spherical war-walkers that trundled around on five limbs, each tipped with a four-clawed foot/hand that could snap together into a spear or spin like a saw-blade, the surprisingly flexible limbs well-suited for close combat.
That was not the only threat the machines posed. A pair of heavy plasma canons flanked its cylinder-shaped head/cockpit, and five scatterlaser turrets pockmarked its upper half to threaten targets at range. The arguably greatest threat was the monster's burning heart-for the machine glowed from within with an infernal forge-fire, and the machines would use their limbs to shovel clawfulls of metal and bodies (both living and dead) from enemies and allies alike into their hearts through gnashing steel maws set into their lower halves, healing damage to the engine's shell or vomiting back out horrific amalgamations of flesh and machine that would seek to slaughter anything that threatened their iron parent.
The Crucibles were the targets of his Order-the Magos was prattling on about things, but the plan was ultimately simple.
The Forge was entirely surrounded by a tall wall, studded with defenses that separated it from the rest of the city. Tightly-packed hab-blocks and lesser facilities pressed up close to the wall, which prevented any significant armored force from approaching-they would be fodder for the wall's guns, and infantry would never have a chance of beaching it.
This street, the primary access to the manufactory complex, was the only real way to get any major armored forces inside the walls. The Cult had known this, and so reinforced the gates they had themselves destroyed barely two weeks ago with all these forces, and torn up the streets to prevent tanks and APCs being able to approach easily.
Unfortunately for them, the local Mechanicus seemed particularly fond of walkers-and due to the extreme threat that this planet would pose should it fall fully to Chaos, the Order of the Blazing Sun had been deployed to this planet as well.
Two days of shelling had reduced everything between his position and the barricades to scrap-the defenses only surviving beneath the shadow of the facility's void shields. There might be some cultists hiding in the rubble, but the true threat was that line, and the Crucibles.
Now, all that separated them from the Cult, was five hundred meters of open ground.
Around his feet, the short verspilito combat-automata waited with machine stillness-each pack of the bipedal man-sized machines controlled remotely by a nearby techpriest. Armed with light anti-infantry weapons, they would be charging ahead of him and his brothers and sisters to try and clear them a path to the Crucible Stars.
Grasp of the Void nuzzled at the back of his mind, reminding him of the sounds of other machines shifting behind him, his fellow Knights and other Mechanicum walkers. A great assembly of metal and flesh, machines of incredible sophistication and power-and they were reduced to the simple brutality of a head-on charge into prepared enemy positions.
Lemius-3 let out a long, slow breath that was only slightly shakey, gently prodding back at Grasp's Machine Spirit in acknowledgement as the Magos' flat monotone finally cut off, replaced with a ticking timer.
Lemius flicked his nictating membrane across his eyes before reaching up and flipping the visor down on his helm mechanicum, his silver-scaled hands finding the secondary control sticks by ingrained reflex. He opened himself up to the Grasp of the Void, and suddenly he wasn't inside the cockpit-he was standing tall in a body of metal and oil, his left hand a flexing three-fingered claw, his right a quietly purring chainblade as long as a civilian terrestrial transport. The missile pod on his back pinged back an all clear, and then the voice of the Grandmaster was rumbling in his ears.
"Stick with your partners, rotate out Ion Shields as necessary, and whatever you do, don't stop moving. Let the Cogs worry about the chaff-today we kill those monsters. As is right. As is our duty. For the Star Child!"
"For the Star Child!" Lemius roared back, alongside each of his fellow warriors-Frederika's high squeak, Korry's deep base, Aliva's songbird trill, and more besides. Beneath his feet, dozens of small martian machines suddenly broke out into the street, flooding out in packs of six or seven from streets all along the friendly lines, their loping gait eating up ground as heavy bolters, stubbers, and scatterlasers opened up, the machines returning fire with cracks from las-carbines spraying bolts of energy, the pilot lights of their flamers burning hungrily as they sought to close the distance.
Further down the street, more sizable machines emerged from the cover of the habs; squat quadrupeds that moved with nimble insectoid speed before opening up on the barricade with heavy weapons, the Tortorem walkers launching volleys of exotic firepower-phosphor bolts that lit up their targets, blasts of plasma that vaporized entire squads, beams of energy that cut through duracrete and metal and flesh with equal ease.
Rising above the habs on tripod legs, each with a massive cannon hung beneath their pod-like bodies, Tripodes Pugnators opened fire, enormous shells and beams of energy scything into the defenders.
The Traitors were not idle-missiles rocketed from bunkers and barricades to smash into Tortems as Lascannons lashed at the Pugnators and swaths of automatic weapons fire scythed down the charging verspertilios.
Then he was moving, Frederika and H-304 behind him, his Ion Shield forming a shimmering barrier before him as he charged, the two fellow Knights of his pack sheltering in his wake as panicked fire suddenly shifted to him, two lascannon beams flaring against his shield, their power stripped away by the barrier until they could barely sear his paintjob. Three missile impacts followed, the warheads detonating as his shield slowed them, and Grasp howled a warning at him. Lemius' eyes tracked the path of one of the lascannon shots, and he sent a havoc-missile screaming outwards into the bunker that had targeted him.
The next moment, with a smoothness that his towering form shouldn't have been capable of, his next step was only half as long, his lope turned into a short skip as Frederika and Light of Deliverance overtook him, his Ion shield shifting to the flank as he fell into the rear of the pack. Over the Order's vox-net, battlecries and warnings rang out, his fellow knights lashing out at those who struck at them with spars missiles, focusing on what they saw as the greatest threat while calling for their support to focus anti armor weapons as they showed themselves.
Four hundred meters.
Lascannons and Missiles begin to redirect toward the charging Knights in greater numbers, but this leaves the other walkers free to focus on those positions. Still, resistance intensifies. Frederika swaps out with H-304 and the Motive Vigor. Lemius' ion shield is almost regenerated.
Three hundred meters.
Despite the efforts of the Mechanicum walkers, the intensified fire becomes enough to suddenly overwhelm H-304's shield, five successive missile impacts letting the sixth slip through, smashing aginst their chest and causing them to stumble. Lemius snarls, darting ahead of his packmate, shield deflecting another lascannon shot aimed at H-304, and a ball of crimson star-stuff washes over the field as the Crucible's open up, the leftmost machine focusing on his pack.
Two hundred meters.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Nelman, on the far side of the highway, barks to his pack as a garage of plasma impacts around him. Frederika echoes the other pack-leader; Lemius' movements shift suddenly in response, raw speed sacrificed as he begins to move more erratically, leaping forward to land with his claw, gouging the torn up pavement as four lascannon shots snap over his head. He smoothly rises, his arm groaning in protest at the move but holding up as his feet get beneath him again and the distance continues to close. He spends another precious rocket silencing the quad-lascannon at the rear of the enemy lines.
One hundred meters.
The first few of the mecahnicum's machines reached those first lines of Cultists, the roar of flamers and the screams of the burning joining the great chorus of battle. Frederika takes the lead again, but they are spreading out a bit now, ion sheilds a wedge before the pack, fire washing over them. The fire from behind has slackened, the Knights too close, but the smaller machines are overrunning the defenders, flames engulfing bunkers and las-carbines spraying trenches.
Suddenly, the world roars, Lemius' vision being darkened automatically as a beam of burning bright green lances out from a bunker at the rear of the lines, smashing into the Pack at the center of the line. The beam overwhelms the lead Knight's shield instantly, smashing into the machine's waist and tearing the noble walker in half.
A two-tone scream of agony, both Pilot and Spirit, rings over the vox for a bare instant before the impact of the upper body slams into the ground and the sound cuts off.
No one has time to question, or mourn, or wonder whether Georgius is still alive. There is still work to be done.
The Neutron-laser is silenced a moment later by a demolisher-shell from a Tripod, and then they are among them.
Lemius sweeps his chaintalon through a bunker as he passes, jerking to the side to avoid a blast of plasma from his target, scatterlasers tracing uselessly across his chassis. Grasp of the Void howls in his mind, demanding vengeance, demanding blood for the death of kin.
Lemius roars with it, his voice joined by Frederika and H-304.
The pack's last rockets soar out, aimed at the Crucible Star's plasma cannons, ignoring the rainfall-patter of autogun slugs and lasgun bolts impacting their frames as they close with the hulking monstrosity. The havoc rockets aren't anti-armor, but the plasma cannons are exposed, and the three fragmentation blasts tear into cooling coils and power lines, and the weapons fall silent.
They are among and behind the anti-armor weapons now; all that can threaten them at this moment is the talons of their prey.
Unfortunately, they'll need to use their own claws to kill it.
The Crucible Star shifts its massive bulk, backing away from the charging pack slowly on three legs as two are raised, letting out a warbling groan as the claws on the raised legs begin to spin like saws, trying to ward the Kharnivores away with shields of spinning blades.
Lemius, Frederika, and H-304 hary their quarry, darting in and out, chaintalons purring threateningly, slaughterclaws flexing in anticipation. Their hunched formed stalk around the reach of the Crucible for a few moments, before two Kharnivores dart around to the sides, the movements drawing the defending saws away as the machine-monster moves in reflex, letting the Kharnivore in front dart forward unopposed.
The saws snap back with disturbing speed, but it is far too late.
Metal screams as Lemius does as the saw removes his chainblade at the elbow before skittering off his armor-his twist to bring his claw to bear on the other limb saving him from further damage as the spikes that are his fingers punch into the Crucible's limb just above the saw, arresting it's movement with a scream of servo-motors and hydraulics. He squeezes, and the saw cuts off, a twist of his claw nearly ripping it off.
The Crucible Star roars in anger or pain, but Lemius doesn't falter or pause-he charges, down an arm, at one of the legs holding the repulsive machine upright, claw reaching out even as the other saw chases him.
His packmates had not been idle, however, as their chaintalons bit into the Crucible's other legs, sending the hulking machine crashing to the ground.
Panicked horns blast, the machine flailing its limbs to try and force the three Knight away, but the three knights refused to give their foe an inch of space. Chantalons ripped, slaughterclaws tore, and soon the machine's limbs were mangled away, and H-304 was driving their chaintalon deep into the machine's guts while Frederika ripped its head/cockpit free in a spray of ichor.
Lemius looked around in a near-daze, seeing the other two Crucible Stars torn apart with other packs perched on their corpses like conquering heroes, all of the knights bearing marks of damage, some major, most minor.
Mechanicus walkers and bots surged into the space taken up by the defenses, which had been overrun in the time they had taken to kill the Crucible. Further down the street, Skitari and transports were moving up to take control of the gate and the barricades.
Grasp of the Void growled in satisfaction, and Lemius sent back a tired but accomplished feeling in return, the phantom ache of his missing limb pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
They had won.
Now, they just needed to root out the cultists inside the factory-complex.
The work never ends.
But this; this he could take some pride in.
And he was just getting started.
Lemius is one of the new Knights who were inducted in the period between the first and the current deployment of the Order. He's from Cradle Station, and he's a Mutant-he has several reptilian traits, like scales on parts of his body, a nictating membrane, and vertical-slit eyes. He also has a bit of a crush on Knight Frederika, his pack-leader, who is the most Pious of the Order's Knights. H-304 started life as an Acolyte of the Star Mechanicum, but they discovered they had an aptitude for piloting the Armigers
Also, I imagine the Crucible Stars as essentially a chaos-ified version of the Omnidroid v.8 from The Incredibles, but with a bunch of scatterlasers spaced out around the upper half of the ball, plasma cannons flanking the 'eye', and big mechanical mouths between the legs on the lower half. It's essentially a terror-weapon meant to be used to support advances by spawning scrap-monsters and bombarding stuff with its plasma cannons, mincing anything that gets close with a claw and walking through buildings.
Hope y'all enjoy this, I stayed up late for it lol. It feels a little...shallow? But I didn't really want to write a detailed character-piece, I wanted to write a decent fight-scene, and I feel like I managed that.
Undead Go Crunch: Lost and Found - [Canon]
Undead Go Crunch: Lost and Found
500.M42
Saget VII
1st Itanian, 1st Itani Heavy Armored
Staff Sergeant Akasuki
Matches Malone, Angel-class Medium Walker
Trapped.
Akasuki was almost certainly trapped.
She had landed on this world of ash and rot only a few weeks back with the rest of the 1st Itanian System Army Group. Given the 1st Itanian was almost entirely made up of armored tanks and walkers, the SAG had been assigned to support the 1st Droman's push into the Stygian Necropolis by taking control of the Calvary Heights overlooking the Asphodel Plains.
Almost immediately, the 1st Itanian ran into issues as they were confronted with countless swarming dead and festering deamons charging straight at them. With little infantry support to the Army Group's name, the various Heavy Armored Regiments were forced into battles of maneuver, constantly advancing, retreating, flanking, advancing, and then retreating again as the waves of dead ebbed and flowed towards them.
Their actions kept the enemies outside of the necropolis tied down and too busy to interfere with the 1st Droman, but it was costing the 1st Itanian heavily in ammunition, fuel, and spare parts. Additionally, the Nurglelites had seemed to wise up to their tactics and were attempting to separate the various regiments as they repositioned, occasionally cutting off sections of an armored push from one another.
It was from one such armored push that Akasuki and the Matches Malone had gotten separated from the rest of the scouts pushing ahead of a column of Venerable Guardians. Separated from the rest of the Angel's, the Staff Sergeant had been forced back up the slopes of Calvary, the four autocannons leaving a carpet of death around the walker as it climbed up the hill past the various mausoleums and tombstones.
By the time Akasuki had driven her Angel towards the summit of the hill, the majority of the horde had lost interest in pursuing her walker, turning back towards the din of battle as the Venerable Guardians made yet another push across the Asphodel Plains. The woman could see the almost unbroken stream of light pouring out of the attacking regiments, melting away the groaning tide just as snow melts under the sun. And yet, just as before, the undead were once again beginning to mass around the armored column, and the risk of a successful flanking attack by the enemy increased by the minute.
It was obvious that the Staff Sergeant would be unable to rejoin her regiment anytime soon with the sheer amount of bodies between her and the rest of the 1st Itani Heavy Armored. Turning away, she could already see the hundreds of zombies shambling towards the Matches Malone, their attention attracted by the growling engine and the chattering of the autocannon as she pushed across the summit of the heights. Akasuki continued to look around from her vantage point, trying to find a way to return to her unit, but all avenues of approach seemed to be locked down by hordes of enemies patrolling the foot of Calvary.
It wasn't as if she could stay in one place either. Not with the dead constantly moving towards where they last saw or heard her. If she attempted to hold up it would only allow for her enemies to surround and overwhelm her. No, movement was the order of the day.
As the hours passed, Akasuki continued to cut down score after score of the Nurglelite puppets. Her once plentiful stores of ammunition slowly drained away in the face of a never ending horde of decaying creatures. As she scarfed down a ration with one hand, while trying to drive the walker with the other, she made a mental note that if she survived, she would lodge a complaint about the capability for an Angel pilot to eat, pilot, aim and fire, and rest during the course of an extended battle, given that she was the only pilot, and thus responsible for every part of the walker in an engagement.
It didn't help that she had started to hear whispers almost an hour after she had first been separated from her comrades. The voices bid her to rest, to cease her struggle and lay down her controls. To embrace the followers of he who would deliver peace unto those who suffered. The voices never stoped, only softening as she chanted hymns to the Star Child and lay her hand upon the icon of the burning match that gave the Matches Malone its name.
Just then, her attention was drawn by a large cluster of undead pressing up against a particularly impressive mausoleum. Even with the clanking and clattering of her Angel, the majority of the zombies were still more interested in battering away at the doors of the tomb, only a few on the edges starting to turn towards her with a lolling tilt of their heads.
Akasuki frowned. The undead were only ever interested in moving prey. Ergo, someone, or something was inside the mausoleum. With any luck, it would be a potential ally and not a trap. The Staff Sergeant's thumbs hovered over the trigger buttons on her steering levers, adjusting her positioning so as to be to the side of the mausoleum instead of in front of it.
As more of the zombies slowly approached the Angel, Akasuki calmly lined up her firing line before opening fire with the auto cannons. A spray of metal and lead cut down the undead like a scythe through a field of wheat. The woman was careful to turn her walker from side to side to prevent any other groups of zombies from sneaking up on her. Many times over, groups of undead would approach from other angles, attracted to the sounds of battle and craving the Glimerling's flesh.
After thirty minutes of fighting, in which the Matches Malone had to reposition at least twelve different times, and during which zombies had manage to get close enough to attack the armor of the walker on two separate occasions before Akasuki trampled them, the Mausoleum had been finally been cleared of any large groups of undead. Even now small groups of two and three zombies slowly approached from all angles.
"Hello in there!" The Staff Sergeant yelled out from inside her walker. "This is Staff Sergeant Akasuki of the 1st Itani Armored. I got the creeps off you but there's still more coming. If you want to leave, now's your only chance. I'm pretty sure the entirety of the Heights heard this racket and I don't intend to be here when the zombies converge here."
While she waited, Akasuki opened fire on the approaching undead, doing her best to conserve ammunition and take multiple zombies down with as few bullets as possible. There was no response for the first few minutes and the Glimerling was almost ready to take off when the doors of the Mausoleum slowly opened. From within the tomb came two white haired women in carapace armor. A younger one carrying the older in her arms, for the one being carried was missing one of her legs. That didn't make her any less dangerous, as she was pointing a bolter at the walker.
"How do we know that this isn't a trick by the pestulant pox lovers who dare to desecrate our planet?" The legless Sister of Battle yelled. "Speak swiftly or I'll deliver upon you the Emperor's peace."
"I hold to none save the Star Child." Akasuki replied. "I follow the blue and grey five fold path. Let none doubt my commitment to him most holy. The savior who is yet to come."
The two other women grit their teeth but came closer. "Where do you intend to go?"
The Staff Sergeant pointed back towards the ongoing battle. "Back to our own lines if possible. I'm running low on ammunition and fuel. But I can't seem to find a path that won't take me straight through a massive horde of undead."
The Sister being carrier whispered into her comrades ear before raising her voice. "I know a path around Calvary which should take us to the foot of the Heights relatively unmolested. But if you want to go any further you'll have to do us a favor."
Akasuki raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
"There's a church with an arsenal built under it south east of the plains." The Sister replied. "A squad of my sister is holed up there fending off any who might attempt to desecrate the remains of a saint enshrined in the catacombs. If you promise to support our efforts to convince your officers to lift the siege, then I will guide you back to your lines."
Akasuki pondered the choice for a moment before giving a nod. Better to live another day. Besides, she'd only be backing up the two Sister's words in front of the Colonel. Not like a Sergeant's words were worth that much in the grand scheme of things.
"Fine. Hop on and let's get going." Akasuki lowered the Angel so the two Sisters of Battle could clamber on and rest on the hull. "If we're going to be traveling with each other, I'd like to know who I'm fighting alongside." The Itanian continued.
"Alyna. Second of my name." Replied the younger.
"Letia. Servant of Him on Terra." Scowled the elder. "Now let us be off towards that small stone path. Our lives are the Emperor's currency. And I have no wish to let my Sisters in arms be spent so cheaply."
Akasuki merely nodded her head as the Matches Malone scuttled its way down the path and hopefully towards safety.
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
500.M42
Saget VII
1st Itanian, 1st Itani Heavy Armored
Staff Sergeant Akasuki
Matches Malone, Angel-class Medium Walker
Trapped.
Akasuki was almost certainly trapped.
She had landed on this world of ash and rot only a few weeks back with the rest of the 1st Itanian System Army Group. Given the 1st Itanian was almost entirely made up of armored tanks and walkers, the SAG had been assigned to support the 1st Droman's push into the Stygian Necropolis by taking control of the Calvary Heights overlooking the Asphodel Plains.
Almost immediately, the 1st Itanian ran into issues as they were confronted with countless swarming dead and festering deamons charging straight at them. With little infantry support to the Army Group's name, the various Heavy Armored Regiments were forced into battles of maneuver, constantly advancing, retreating, flanking, advancing, and then retreating again as the waves of dead ebbed and flowed towards them.
Their actions kept the enemies outside of the necropolis tied down and too busy to interfere with the 1st Droman, but it was costing the 1st Itanian heavily in ammunition, fuel, and spare parts. Additionally, the Nurglelites had seemed to wise up to their tactics and were attempting to separate the various regiments as they repositioned, occasionally cutting off sections of an armored push from one another.
It was from one such armored push that Akasuki and the Matches Malone had gotten separated from the rest of the scouts pushing ahead of a column of Venerable Guardians. Separated from the rest of the Angel's, the Staff Sergeant had been forced back up the slopes of Calvary, the four autocannons leaving a carpet of death around the walker as it climbed up the hill past the various mausoleums and tombstones.
By the time Akasuki had driven her Angel towards the summit of the hill, the majority of the horde had lost interest in pursuing her walker, turning back towards the din of battle as the Venerable Guardians made yet another push across the Asphodel Plains. The woman could see the almost unbroken stream of light pouring out of the attacking regiments, melting away the groaning tide just as snow melts under the sun. And yet, just as before, the undead were once again beginning to mass around the armored column, and the risk of a successful flanking attack by the enemy increased by the minute.
It was obvious that the Staff Sergeant would be unable to rejoin her regiment anytime soon with the sheer amount of bodies between her and the rest of the 1st Itani Heavy Armored. Turning away, she could already see the hundreds of zombies shambling towards the Matches Malone, their attention attracted by the growling engine and the chattering of the autocannon as she pushed across the summit of the heights. Akasuki continued to look around from her vantage point, trying to find a way to return to her unit, but all avenues of approach seemed to be locked down by hordes of enemies patrolling the foot of Calvary.
It wasn't as if she could stay in one place either. Not with the dead constantly moving towards where they last saw or heard her. If she attempted to hold up it would only allow for her enemies to surround and overwhelm her. No, movement was the order of the day.
As the hours passed, Akasuki continued to cut down score after score of the Nurglelite puppets. Her once plentiful stores of ammunition slowly drained away in the face of a never ending horde of decaying creatures. As she scarfed down a ration with one hand, while trying to drive the walker with the other, she made a mental note that if she survived, she would lodge a complaint about the capability for an Angel pilot to eat, pilot, aim and fire, and rest during the course of an extended battle, given that she was the only pilot, and thus responsible for every part of the walker in an engagement.
It didn't help that she had started to hear whispers almost an hour after she had first been separated from her comrades. The voices bid her to rest, to cease her struggle and lay down her controls. To embrace the followers of he who would deliver peace unto those who suffered. The voices never stoped, only softening as she chanted hymns to the Star Child and lay her hand upon the icon of the burning match that gave the Matches Malone its name.
Just then, her attention was drawn by a large cluster of undead pressing up against a particularly impressive mausoleum. Even with the clanking and clattering of her Angel, the majority of the zombies were still more interested in battering away at the doors of the tomb, only a few on the edges starting to turn towards her with a lolling tilt of their heads.
Akasuki frowned. The undead were only ever interested in moving prey. Ergo, someone, or something was inside the mausoleum. With any luck, it would be a potential ally and not a trap. The Staff Sergeant's thumbs hovered over the trigger buttons on her steering levers, adjusting her positioning so as to be to the side of the mausoleum instead of in front of it.
As more of the zombies slowly approached the Angel, Akasuki calmly lined up her firing line before opening fire with the auto cannons. A spray of metal and lead cut down the undead like a scythe through a field of wheat. The woman was careful to turn her walker from side to side to prevent any other groups of zombies from sneaking up on her. Many times over, groups of undead would approach from other angles, attracted to the sounds of battle and craving the Glimerling's flesh.
After thirty minutes of fighting, in which the Matches Malone had to reposition at least twelve different times, and during which zombies had manage to get close enough to attack the armor of the walker on two separate occasions before Akasuki trampled them, the Mausoleum had been finally been cleared of any large groups of undead. Even now small groups of two and three zombies slowly approached from all angles.
"Hello in there!" The Staff Sergeant yelled out from inside her walker. "This is Staff Sergeant Akasuki of the 1st Itani Armored. I got the creeps off you but there's still more coming. If you want to leave, now's your only chance. I'm pretty sure the entirety of the Heights heard this racket and I don't intend to be here when the zombies converge here."
While she waited, Akasuki opened fire on the approaching undead, doing her best to conserve ammunition and take multiple zombies down with as few bullets as possible. There was no response for the first few minutes and the Glimerling was almost ready to take off when the doors of the Mausoleum slowly opened. From within the tomb came two white haired women in carapace armor. A younger one carrying the older in her arms, for the one being carried was missing one of her legs. That didn't make her any less dangerous, as she was pointing a bolter at the walker.
"How do we know that this isn't a trick by the pestulant pox lovers who dare to desecrate our planet?" The legless Sister of Battle yelled. "Speak swiftly or I'll deliver upon you the Emperor's peace."
"I hold to none save the Star Child." Akasuki replied. "I follow the blue and grey five fold path. Let none doubt my commitment to him most holy. The savior who is yet to come."
The two other women grit their teeth but came closer. "Where do you intend to go?"
The Staff Sergeant pointed back towards the ongoing battle. "Back to our own lines if possible. I'm running low on ammunition and fuel. But I can't seem to find a path that won't take me straight through a massive horde of undead."
The Sister being carrier whispered into her comrades ear before raising her voice. "I know a path around Calvary which should take us to the foot of the Heights relatively unmolested. But if you want to go any further you'll have to do us a favor."
Akasuki raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
"There's a church with an arsenal built under it south east of the plains." The Sister replied. "A squad of my sister is holed up there fending off any who might attempt to desecrate the remains of a saint enshrined in the catacombs. If you promise to support our efforts to convince your officers to lift the siege, then I will guide you back to your lines."
Akasuki pondered the choice for a moment before giving a nod. Better to live another day. Besides, she'd only be backing up the two Sister's words in front of the Colonel. Not like a Sergeant's words were worth that much in the grand scheme of things.
"Fine. Hop on and let's get going." Akasuki lowered the Angel so the two Sisters of Battle could clamber on and rest on the hull. "If we're going to be traveling with each other, I'd like to know who I'm fighting alongside." The Itanian continued.
"Alyna. Second of my name." Replied the younger.
"Letia. Servant of Him on Terra." Scowled the elder. "Now let us be off towards that small stone path. Our lives are the Emperor's currency. And I have no wish to let my Sisters in arms be spent so cheaply."
Akasuki merely nodded her head as the Matches Malone scuttled its way down the path and hopefully towards safety.
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
- Pronouns
- He
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks, scaling
-[X] Increase the number of Civilian Seats to 18, and Voices to 6, and the Faith Voices to 3 while allowing fractional/minority views within the orthodox of the Faith Voices (since now we're probably getting in Orders/etc raising their voices and disagreeing without being heretics).
-[X] Confirming ad-hoc decisions over the last century, Kin are to be given a single full seat in the Planetary Council, as part of the Civilian Administration Seats, otherwise equal. Additionally, Protectorates are to be afforded a Special Observer seat (per Protectorate) where they may be excluded from attending certain top secret/classified votes, but are otherwise free to watch, but not vote or veto.
-[X] Recommit to the one-century timeframe for becoming a voting/etc member of the Federation (and not before, barring extraordinary circumstances), and state a high priority for reconstruction/etc.
-[X] When the Neon-Systems become voting members, introduce the Sub-Sector layer of councils between the system councils and the polity wide council.
-[X] Increase the number of Civilian Seats to 18, and Voices to 6, and the Faith Voices to 3 while allowing fractional/minority views within the orthodox of the Faith Voices (since now we're probably getting in Orders/etc raising their voices and disagreeing without being heretics).
-[X] Confirming ad-hoc decisions over the last century, Kin are to be given a single full seat in the Planetary Council, as part of the Civilian Administration Seats, otherwise equal. Additionally, Protectorates are to be afforded a Special Observer seat (per Protectorate) where they may be excluded from attending certain top secret/classified votes, but are otherwise free to watch, but not vote or veto.
-[X] Recommit to the one-century timeframe for becoming a voting/etc member of the Federation (and not before, barring extraordinary circumstances), and state a high priority for reconstruction/etc.
-[X] When the Neon-Systems become voting members, introduce the Sub-Sector layer of councils between the system councils and the polity wide council.
- Location
- Centro Italia
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
- Pronouns
- Zack
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks, scaling
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Plan: Minor Tweaks v2.3
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Do take note that you can just...take two Troop Compartments. Those things can be doubled or tripled up on.
*Happy QM Noises*
PS: I didn't canonize your Omake, Blackangel, due to the Bloodthirster. Getting a Greater Daemon summoned is usually the point when planets straight up die and fall to Chaos completely. It is also a bit weird to summon a Khorne Daemon when you are mostly Tzeentchia.
Just to let you know, Qualech's Forge was affected by Tzeetchian cultists, the only reported Khornate influence in the subsector was over in Valhidheim which was handled by the Lamenters, so I don't know how a Bloodthrister got here.
Good story, but I'm not so sure on the whispers since this sounds like low-level corruption which the faithful should be more or less immune to. But I'm no expert on this.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
That's be more expensive though? Smalls are 2 DP, Mediums are 3
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I was thinking the whispers were medium-level pervasive corruption leaking past the passive defenses of our people but still being degraded enough by those defenses to be reduced to 'just' malign whispers.