- Location
- Earth
The Long Night Part One: Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) Complete Sequel Up
- Thread starter Durin
- Start date
[X] Plan The Kitchen Sink Part 1
- Location
- Back in Cali
Life Eater Fungus. We have a Fungus on the planet that is the same as the Life Eater Virus that is extremely dangerous weapon. We put them in Death Strikes.
John Masaki
The Guy With the Lightsaber
- Location
- Atlantis
[X] Plan The Final Countdown
I say, dear boy! I believe you're missing one little bit to your plan!
Maybe there's a better score for this decisive battle, but this one is one that popped immediately to mind, mostly because the movie was cool when I was a kid.
- Location
- Australia
John Masaki
The Guy With the Lightsaber
- Location
- Atlantis
That'd work best if we managed to triumph, but nevertheless...YEAH!
Bigger Fish
- Location
- Berkeley
@Durin
Because Xavier needs more love, and bonuses.
Seriously, dude has been a master pyromancer since the first incursion if I recall correctly.
Bigger Fish
It was chaos in the district. City fighting was always a messy affair, especially as containment broke and lines morphed into hardpoints before being snuffed out one by one until all that remained were holdouts. Naturally they tried to evacuate first, before things got too desperate (both good for morale and individuals in a prepared defense were able to achieve far superior exchange rates than they could in last stands), but that just added another layer to the madness, with the complex interplay of offensive moves to secure lines of retreat and hook up with fellow survivors combined with a net movement to retreat. Fortunately, this enemy was almost uniquely unsuited to city fighting in mentality—taking to the air, a favored combat maneuver for the Angyls, merely made them easy targets for entire hab blocks full of people, and their typical rigid advances and perfect coordination worked poorly with each block a different battlefield and no easy way to determine which paths would be more or less heavily defended at a given point in time. Unfortunately, between the number, power, and skill of the current besieging forces, they were still fully capable of pushing through.
To Xavier's experienced eye, the fighting here was almost over. Already the more mobile forces were pulling out, and as the neighboring districts had already fallen a flanking maneuver or counter-attack was unlikely to materialize before the last holdouts fell. Bad news, but honestly expected—this district had held for longer than it had any right to, and their foe had been constantly escalating the pressure and forces assigned to clearing it as they had fallen further and further behind schedule. It was for that exact reason he was here though. To most moving into a falling district was an elaborate form of suicide, but he was not most people. Few were the Angyls that could detect him when he did not wish them to, and fewer still were those that could actually threaten him—and that was before Mitten's presence was factored in. There were quite a few Angyls that would have been very surprised by Mittens had they not become very dead from Mittens so far this Incursion, and he himself would be extremely surprised if there weren't quite a few more. Catching Mittens from ambush was tricky enough if one knew it was coming, and doing so without knowing of the danger and with a very flashy pyromancer in front of them was quite a bit harder. Not all deception was about subtlety, after all.
Ironically, the lack of remaining defenders made his task here substantially easier. No worries about friendly fire, less chance of someone else's blunder raising the Angyl's level of alertness as he snuck up on them, and much of their forces being moved further forward—both reducing the number of reinforcements he might face as well as giving him transit lines to hit. A saboteur's dream.
After taking out the first advancing cohort of lower-tier Angyls he lost the element of strategic surprise that someone was attacking them in a 'secured' district, but it hardly mattered. For all their caution and attention they couldn't detect him coming, and the ever-growing flames answered his call eagerly. Cohort after cohort was reduced to little more than fuel as his flames encircled them in the streets, their leaders dispatched by Mittens before they could raise so much as a shield. For all that these were elite forces of the Abomination, there was only so much they could do against a foe that outclassed them as much as he did. Of course, no good thing could last and his actions would provoke a response. It was a good thing he was counting on it.
Their foe was predictable, and over the week of constant fighting he had learned their moves inside and out. The strike team that would be dispatched to secure their line of reinforcements would consist of exactly five fifth-circle Angyls, one a command specialist/telepath, one focused on daemonology and some form of direct damage psyker powers, one a ranged attack and shield specialist, and two direct combat specialists. Theoretically a balanced force capable of handling anything capable of creating this level of destruction/disruption decisively without sapping too much from the front or risking difficult to replace assets if it was a trap. To be fair, said force would be far more of a fair fight for him (even with him using his typical unfair means) than he would wish to face, and he was certainly on the upper end of the forces for which causing this level of destruction was a reasonable use of their talents. It was a well-calculated response for all of its predictability.
Unfortunately for them, he was fairly sure the surprise he had put together here would be sufficient to tip the scales in his favor. The fire before hadn't just been for show, and rather than putting it out after burning through the cohorts he had been condensing it and filling the empty hab-blocks with it. The trick to dealing with a foe that outnumbered you, after all, was to strike hard and fast to even the numbers out, and condensed fire fed on the bodies of Angyls would make for a hell of an alpha strike.
Naturally, though, in order to actually land said alpha strike he needed to get the strike force in range and with their pants down. Metaphorically, of course. While playing an elaborate game of cat and mouse while hoping they didn't notice the potential of the suspiciously-not-spreading-or-going-out fire and having Mittens pick a few of them off if their focus ever dropped was one way to do it, simplicity had an elegance all of its own as well. They were here to stop him from killing off reinforcements, and they were still sending reinforcements through here. If he knew where they posted themselves all it would take to get them where he wanted them would be careful selection of which group of reinforcements he attacked and when.
Picking out the strike force wasn't that hard. Stealthy Angyls as a whole most certainly were not, and while there were a few exceptions the odds of a full strike force being able to stay under the radar was quite low. Instead, they had opted for being moderately obvious but constantly moving to prevent accurate artillery bombardment and being surrounded by meatshields to prevent easy ambush. Of course, this made picking out exactly when and where to hit one of the reinforcement columns more than a bit of a pain, but he persevered. Some things were worth hard work, and killing Angyls was one of them.
In Xavier's book, a fight going well was almost always anticlimactic. Hitting hard, fast, and ending it in the first serious strike was his definition of a good fight. Sure, there was frequently a good amount of maneuvering before said strike could be launched, but there was no opportunity as good as the first real surprise in a fight. If he couldn't land a telling enough blow to either end the fight, or at least put his opponent at a crippling disadvantage with it, then said fight was quite likely to end up being far trickier than he liked. Alas, actually pulling off an anticlimactic fight here was likely to be beyond his capabilities. An alpha strike hard enough to kill two of them, or deal significant wounds to four, was doable if he was lucky. Mittens being able to take out another was reasonably likely as well. Unfortunately, that meant that even in a near best-case scenario he was going to be fighting two unwounded or four rapidly regenerating fifth circle Angyls without the element of surprise and with a large number of lesser but still dangerous reinforcements incoming. Not exactly a calm and relaxing time, to be sure.
The baiting was, in his humble opinion, flawless. Rather than giving the game away by pulling out the condensed flame he mentally handed the maintenance of it off to Mittens while conjuring up fresh fire to burn out the selected cohort of reinforcements. The squad of fifth circles, as expected, made a beeline for him, but were distracted from being able to really survey the area by the artillery strike he had called in practically on top of them—like most Avernites he had a deep and abiding respect for artillery support. Sure, the injury it dealt them was little more than scratches, but it forced them to split their focus and, even better, made them throw up a shield that didn't cover his planned angle of attack.
From the way one of them sought to claim the flames he had just used to torch the latest cohort from him he could conclude that their offensive psyker was a pyromancer as well. He let it have said flames after a brief struggle—while he could have held on to them, those flames were in a poor position to actually reach him and attempting to corral them would hopefully distract the pyromancer from the potency of the flames within the buildings. In the brief time he had before they could narrow down his position, he and Mittens swapped back over control of the condensed flames from before to himself and braced themselves for the first real fight of the day.
He allowed himself to be spotted. It was a calculated move. Mittens needed a distraction to make his strike, after all, and it wasn't like he was so incompetent as to give their ranged specialist a good target. Dalv (or, he supposed, Vlad) would have his hide if he screwed up like that. His foes did not disappoint. They moved up several levels in his mental assessment of their level of alertness, if not tactical acumen, as they rapidly oriented on him and began their bombardment while moving to cut off all avenues of retreat. Trying to cut off a pyromancer with fire wasn't all that effective, even if their other area denial options weren't particularly good, and they seemed woefully unprepared for any exotic movement techniques that he as a highly proficient psyker had.
Of course, their biggest mistake was in the underlying assumption that their only foe of note was him. It was perhaps understandable, as most combatants at his level didn't double up when sent to problem areas. Mittens tended to be quite sneaky too, to the point where even those specifically looking for evidence of a second combatant would be unlikely to find much. However, battle did not care for even the most understandable of mistakes, and a silent swipe from out of a wall left their distracted leader headless.
The combination of surprise and loss of leadership was the best opportunity he was going to get, and Xavier made the most of it. The condensed flames that had burned quietly before now surged out of the hab blocks on either side of the street he had confronted them in, as unstoppable as the tide and with a learned hunger for the warpstuff that formed the Angyls. Alas, his foe had maintained separation knowing they faced a powerful pyromancer, but said separation was insufficient to avoid the coming wave, and he had chosen his targets with care. One melee-combat focused Angyl, likely specialization light weapons was fully consumed, and while the ranged specialists' barrier had gone up in time to divert the tide it had lost more than half of its body to the flames, with only its warp-born toughness allowing it to function at all. Another swipe of Mitten's paw, this time from out of the ground, ended even that.
He now faced two opponents, another melee specialist and the pyromancer, plus whatever reinforcements they could call upon. The pyromancer had upon his attack dropped its attempts to corral his earlier flames and was instead seeking to assert its dominance over the concentrated Angyl-bane flames of his latest attack, but was finding it impossible, with both his will and the nature of the flames themselves opposing it. The melee specialist was cautiously approaching, constantly scanning for the flame's return while moving to engage him, hoping to exploit a typical weakness of pyromancers to close in fighting or to at least buy time for the reinforcements the pyromancer was no doubt calling for.
The fight was draining, forcing him to split his attention at least three ways—keeping an eye on the pyromancer and coordinating with Mittens to prevent a successful counter-attack, maintaining control of the flames while using them to ward off the chaff-tier reinforcements, and violently disabusing the melee-specialist of the idea that without the easy ability to bring his powers to bear he was helpless. Luck was with him, though, and a few nicks slowed them down enough to land a few hits, and after those hits they could no longer stay ahead of the flame. Soon, the only evidence left of their existence were scorched silhouettes and the hungry flames.
Despite his victory it was time to move on. The district had been long-since lost, and the next reinforcements they sent to clear it out would not be so easily handled. Still, he had quite a bit of Angyl-bane flames built up here, and it would be a real waste not to use them productively. A mental querry to Tamia and he was patched into the local fire-support network, and soon a vector was fed into his head—a fair distance away, and potentially a danger-close situation, but details were as always limited in the network and it was beyond a doubt impervious to tampering even by the First Circles. With a mental shrug he launched it along the provided vector, feeding it with even more power and hate for the daemon.
A furious pulse of anger and contempt caused a minor shockwave through the warp, and his danger sense SCREAMED at him, which he knew better than to question. It took ten or fifteen blinks, a few walls phased through, and severely damping down his presence before it shut up. A look back to the district he had fought in showed it burning brightly in the false-gold fire. Mentally, he reached back out to his wife.
"Tamia, what exactly did I launch that at? I really didn't get much of any context from the fire-support network and I'm a bit worried about the reaction…"
After a mental sigh and a brief interrogation on if he'd gotten out all right occurred before she was willing to get into what nest of hornets he'd disturbed, but honestly he expected that. At some level he had even expected the answer he'd received as well. Apparently he'd managed to blow through an anti-bombardment shield the First Circle had been keeping up over one of the cores of elites in its advance, and between the power of the shot and the rest of the bombardment on it it had actually broken temporarily and provoked the furious response, which had probably ended up costing the besieging forces more than his efforts in clearing out the fifth circles, the damage done by bombardment before the First Circle had reestablished the shield, and the power drain on the First Circle caused by the shield being taken down.
It was a humbling reminder both of the price of hubris, and that for all that he outclassed many of his foes there were always bigger fish in the sea.
Because Xavier needs more love, and bonuses.
Seriously, dude has been a master pyromancer since the first incursion if I recall correctly.
Bigger Fish
It was chaos in the district. City fighting was always a messy affair, especially as containment broke and lines morphed into hardpoints before being snuffed out one by one until all that remained were holdouts. Naturally they tried to evacuate first, before things got too desperate (both good for morale and individuals in a prepared defense were able to achieve far superior exchange rates than they could in last stands), but that just added another layer to the madness, with the complex interplay of offensive moves to secure lines of retreat and hook up with fellow survivors combined with a net movement to retreat. Fortunately, this enemy was almost uniquely unsuited to city fighting in mentality—taking to the air, a favored combat maneuver for the Angyls, merely made them easy targets for entire hab blocks full of people, and their typical rigid advances and perfect coordination worked poorly with each block a different battlefield and no easy way to determine which paths would be more or less heavily defended at a given point in time. Unfortunately, between the number, power, and skill of the current besieging forces, they were still fully capable of pushing through.
To Xavier's experienced eye, the fighting here was almost over. Already the more mobile forces were pulling out, and as the neighboring districts had already fallen a flanking maneuver or counter-attack was unlikely to materialize before the last holdouts fell. Bad news, but honestly expected—this district had held for longer than it had any right to, and their foe had been constantly escalating the pressure and forces assigned to clearing it as they had fallen further and further behind schedule. It was for that exact reason he was here though. To most moving into a falling district was an elaborate form of suicide, but he was not most people. Few were the Angyls that could detect him when he did not wish them to, and fewer still were those that could actually threaten him—and that was before Mitten's presence was factored in. There were quite a few Angyls that would have been very surprised by Mittens had they not become very dead from Mittens so far this Incursion, and he himself would be extremely surprised if there weren't quite a few more. Catching Mittens from ambush was tricky enough if one knew it was coming, and doing so without knowing of the danger and with a very flashy pyromancer in front of them was quite a bit harder. Not all deception was about subtlety, after all.
Ironically, the lack of remaining defenders made his task here substantially easier. No worries about friendly fire, less chance of someone else's blunder raising the Angyl's level of alertness as he snuck up on them, and much of their forces being moved further forward—both reducing the number of reinforcements he might face as well as giving him transit lines to hit. A saboteur's dream.
After taking out the first advancing cohort of lower-tier Angyls he lost the element of strategic surprise that someone was attacking them in a 'secured' district, but it hardly mattered. For all their caution and attention they couldn't detect him coming, and the ever-growing flames answered his call eagerly. Cohort after cohort was reduced to little more than fuel as his flames encircled them in the streets, their leaders dispatched by Mittens before they could raise so much as a shield. For all that these were elite forces of the Abomination, there was only so much they could do against a foe that outclassed them as much as he did. Of course, no good thing could last and his actions would provoke a response. It was a good thing he was counting on it.
Their foe was predictable, and over the week of constant fighting he had learned their moves inside and out. The strike team that would be dispatched to secure their line of reinforcements would consist of exactly five fifth-circle Angyls, one a command specialist/telepath, one focused on daemonology and some form of direct damage psyker powers, one a ranged attack and shield specialist, and two direct combat specialists. Theoretically a balanced force capable of handling anything capable of creating this level of destruction/disruption decisively without sapping too much from the front or risking difficult to replace assets if it was a trap. To be fair, said force would be far more of a fair fight for him (even with him using his typical unfair means) than he would wish to face, and he was certainly on the upper end of the forces for which causing this level of destruction was a reasonable use of their talents. It was a well-calculated response for all of its predictability.
Unfortunately for them, he was fairly sure the surprise he had put together here would be sufficient to tip the scales in his favor. The fire before hadn't just been for show, and rather than putting it out after burning through the cohorts he had been condensing it and filling the empty hab-blocks with it. The trick to dealing with a foe that outnumbered you, after all, was to strike hard and fast to even the numbers out, and condensed fire fed on the bodies of Angyls would make for a hell of an alpha strike.
Naturally, though, in order to actually land said alpha strike he needed to get the strike force in range and with their pants down. Metaphorically, of course. While playing an elaborate game of cat and mouse while hoping they didn't notice the potential of the suspiciously-not-spreading-or-going-out fire and having Mittens pick a few of them off if their focus ever dropped was one way to do it, simplicity had an elegance all of its own as well. They were here to stop him from killing off reinforcements, and they were still sending reinforcements through here. If he knew where they posted themselves all it would take to get them where he wanted them would be careful selection of which group of reinforcements he attacked and when.
Picking out the strike force wasn't that hard. Stealthy Angyls as a whole most certainly were not, and while there were a few exceptions the odds of a full strike force being able to stay under the radar was quite low. Instead, they had opted for being moderately obvious but constantly moving to prevent accurate artillery bombardment and being surrounded by meatshields to prevent easy ambush. Of course, this made picking out exactly when and where to hit one of the reinforcement columns more than a bit of a pain, but he persevered. Some things were worth hard work, and killing Angyls was one of them.
In Xavier's book, a fight going well was almost always anticlimactic. Hitting hard, fast, and ending it in the first serious strike was his definition of a good fight. Sure, there was frequently a good amount of maneuvering before said strike could be launched, but there was no opportunity as good as the first real surprise in a fight. If he couldn't land a telling enough blow to either end the fight, or at least put his opponent at a crippling disadvantage with it, then said fight was quite likely to end up being far trickier than he liked. Alas, actually pulling off an anticlimactic fight here was likely to be beyond his capabilities. An alpha strike hard enough to kill two of them, or deal significant wounds to four, was doable if he was lucky. Mittens being able to take out another was reasonably likely as well. Unfortunately, that meant that even in a near best-case scenario he was going to be fighting two unwounded or four rapidly regenerating fifth circle Angyls without the element of surprise and with a large number of lesser but still dangerous reinforcements incoming. Not exactly a calm and relaxing time, to be sure.
The baiting was, in his humble opinion, flawless. Rather than giving the game away by pulling out the condensed flame he mentally handed the maintenance of it off to Mittens while conjuring up fresh fire to burn out the selected cohort of reinforcements. The squad of fifth circles, as expected, made a beeline for him, but were distracted from being able to really survey the area by the artillery strike he had called in practically on top of them—like most Avernites he had a deep and abiding respect for artillery support. Sure, the injury it dealt them was little more than scratches, but it forced them to split their focus and, even better, made them throw up a shield that didn't cover his planned angle of attack.
From the way one of them sought to claim the flames he had just used to torch the latest cohort from him he could conclude that their offensive psyker was a pyromancer as well. He let it have said flames after a brief struggle—while he could have held on to them, those flames were in a poor position to actually reach him and attempting to corral them would hopefully distract the pyromancer from the potency of the flames within the buildings. In the brief time he had before they could narrow down his position, he and Mittens swapped back over control of the condensed flames from before to himself and braced themselves for the first real fight of the day.
He allowed himself to be spotted. It was a calculated move. Mittens needed a distraction to make his strike, after all, and it wasn't like he was so incompetent as to give their ranged specialist a good target. Dalv (or, he supposed, Vlad) would have his hide if he screwed up like that. His foes did not disappoint. They moved up several levels in his mental assessment of their level of alertness, if not tactical acumen, as they rapidly oriented on him and began their bombardment while moving to cut off all avenues of retreat. Trying to cut off a pyromancer with fire wasn't all that effective, even if their other area denial options weren't particularly good, and they seemed woefully unprepared for any exotic movement techniques that he as a highly proficient psyker had.
Of course, their biggest mistake was in the underlying assumption that their only foe of note was him. It was perhaps understandable, as most combatants at his level didn't double up when sent to problem areas. Mittens tended to be quite sneaky too, to the point where even those specifically looking for evidence of a second combatant would be unlikely to find much. However, battle did not care for even the most understandable of mistakes, and a silent swipe from out of a wall left their distracted leader headless.
The combination of surprise and loss of leadership was the best opportunity he was going to get, and Xavier made the most of it. The condensed flames that had burned quietly before now surged out of the hab blocks on either side of the street he had confronted them in, as unstoppable as the tide and with a learned hunger for the warpstuff that formed the Angyls. Alas, his foe had maintained separation knowing they faced a powerful pyromancer, but said separation was insufficient to avoid the coming wave, and he had chosen his targets with care. One melee-combat focused Angyl, likely specialization light weapons was fully consumed, and while the ranged specialists' barrier had gone up in time to divert the tide it had lost more than half of its body to the flames, with only its warp-born toughness allowing it to function at all. Another swipe of Mitten's paw, this time from out of the ground, ended even that.
He now faced two opponents, another melee specialist and the pyromancer, plus whatever reinforcements they could call upon. The pyromancer had upon his attack dropped its attempts to corral his earlier flames and was instead seeking to assert its dominance over the concentrated Angyl-bane flames of his latest attack, but was finding it impossible, with both his will and the nature of the flames themselves opposing it. The melee specialist was cautiously approaching, constantly scanning for the flame's return while moving to engage him, hoping to exploit a typical weakness of pyromancers to close in fighting or to at least buy time for the reinforcements the pyromancer was no doubt calling for.
The fight was draining, forcing him to split his attention at least three ways—keeping an eye on the pyromancer and coordinating with Mittens to prevent a successful counter-attack, maintaining control of the flames while using them to ward off the chaff-tier reinforcements, and violently disabusing the melee-specialist of the idea that without the easy ability to bring his powers to bear he was helpless. Luck was with him, though, and a few nicks slowed them down enough to land a few hits, and after those hits they could no longer stay ahead of the flame. Soon, the only evidence left of their existence were scorched silhouettes and the hungry flames.
Despite his victory it was time to move on. The district had been long-since lost, and the next reinforcements they sent to clear it out would not be so easily handled. Still, he had quite a bit of Angyl-bane flames built up here, and it would be a real waste not to use them productively. A mental querry to Tamia and he was patched into the local fire-support network, and soon a vector was fed into his head—a fair distance away, and potentially a danger-close situation, but details were as always limited in the network and it was beyond a doubt impervious to tampering even by the First Circles. With a mental shrug he launched it along the provided vector, feeding it with even more power and hate for the daemon.
A furious pulse of anger and contempt caused a minor shockwave through the warp, and his danger sense SCREAMED at him, which he knew better than to question. It took ten or fifteen blinks, a few walls phased through, and severely damping down his presence before it shut up. A look back to the district he had fought in showed it burning brightly in the false-gold fire. Mentally, he reached back out to his wife.
"Tamia, what exactly did I launch that at? I really didn't get much of any context from the fire-support network and I'm a bit worried about the reaction…"
After a mental sigh and a brief interrogation on if he'd gotten out all right occurred before she was willing to get into what nest of hornets he'd disturbed, but honestly he expected that. At some level he had even expected the answer he'd received as well. Apparently he'd managed to blow through an anti-bombardment shield the First Circle had been keeping up over one of the cores of elites in its advance, and between the power of the shot and the rest of the bombardment on it it had actually broken temporarily and provoked the furious response, which had probably ended up costing the besieging forces more than his efforts in clearing out the fifth circles, the damage done by bombardment before the First Circle had reestablished the shield, and the power drain on the First Circle caused by the shield being taken down.
It was a humbling reminder both of the price of hubris, and that for all that he outclassed many of his foes there were always bigger fish in the sea.
- Location
- western US
I think I agree, we should LEF Helm's deep. negate that bonus they are getting, anyone left there would likely thank us anyway.
besides, its been a while since we last gave people a reason to see us a ruthless so we can probably afford to do another heartless act without risking the buffing (or debuffing?) of that trait.
besides, its been a while since we last gave people a reason to see us a ruthless so we can probably afford to do another heartless act without risking the buffing (or debuffing?) of that trait.
- Location
- United states
Is it really heartless when the whole population was captured and going to be sacrificed anyway? A bit cold maybe but it's also a bit of a mercy since at least with the bombings it would be a far quicker and painless death.
- Location
- Brazil, Minas gerais
Need to agree at this point. Mostly because their souls would be eaten by daemons while being warped. This way at very last they would suffer less. And hopefully die from some local warp creature.
- Location
- western US
oh I would agree, thats why I gave that post.
but thats not what other people see.
often what happens AFTER the fact is people start to make assumptions/generalizations/etc till all of a sudden, you arranged for it to happen that way. Or that we did it dispite having alternatives that they thought up AFTER all is said and done without know the context of why we did the things we did.
we are not talking about people who are rational/intelligent (most of the time), we are talking about the general public because that is how reputations start/happen. You don't get it from the small group of people who actually hear about the details and understand things and thus it doesnt matter whether or not you were justified or not, people can make up their own story about what happened.
basically, what (could) happen is the metaphorical newspaper prints "avernus govener orders deathstrike on own city" since that actually fits in a headline. (this is more of a metaphor mind you, I know that theres likely hole in it due to this being wh40k and what not.....my point tho is that people simplify things and those simplifications sometimes get extended out into statements that make us look far more ruthless thhen we actually are and all it takes is the wrong sort of action on our part and a little bad luck to get the snowball rolling
edit: also note that all I'm really saying is that we have not done this kind of thing in a while.
IE: even if it gets percived poorly it is unlikely to give us another bad trait/upgrade the current one. (or is it downgrade? ) In other words, I'm saying the risk is small.
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- Location
- Berkeley
Honestly, if anything a LEF strike on Helm's Deep is a waste of military resources from a strictly utilitarian viewpoint. If we actually think it would be effective at preventing the corruption and sacrifice of any remaining population I'd be all for it on humanitarian grounds. There's shit far worse than death in this universe, and unless we act they get to experience it.
- Location
- western US
why woulden't it work? I know the deamons might be resistent...but the human sacrifices would not be.
- Location
- Berkeley
Getting through the airspace, any shields, and walls if the survivors are kept inside is difficult.
- Location
- madison
durin mentind it might work on discord, so it might be worth a shot.
Why aren't we going to 1 on Astartes now? They're the only super elite that we can replace pretty quickly.
- Location
- Berkeley
Because priority is still relative priority, and I'd rather lose lose Helltroopers and Helguard when it's time to suicide hold a position than them when they could be placed at a location with a potential line of retreat.
- Location
- western US
uhhh.. I'd imagine that most of that would be down by now....
I'd rather lose an equivalent power of astartes. They regenerate their numbers and skill level much faster than the Helltroopers or Helguard.
- Location
- Berkeley
Airspace is full of Angyls, and it's not like they don't form their own anti-bombardment shields in addition to having anti-air equivalents (which works on deathstrikes).
Regen rate of skill and numbers for our stuff depends quite a bit on the overall circumstances facing us. After the first Incursion, for example, we basically didn't take a hit on experience at all because our Helltroopers could basically be promoted to veteran Helguard and ditto PDF into Helltroopers. As things stand thanks to recent expansions too most of our dudes are pretty low veterancy anyway, and thus wouldn't lose much in replacement.
Do we have someone ready to kill Saint Lin should it come to it so the FC does not get the power-up?
- Location
- western US
why would having flying angyls stop a deathstrike?
and if they had anti-bombardment shields that were that effective why would our deathstrike's be effective at all?
I think your overestimating such measures, maybe I'm wrong...but I woulden't just dismiss the idea out of hand at the very least. I will see what the discord discussion says about it.....