Playgound misfits, Freefrom game for the GuardITP

[Baxter190]

This shall be the OP for the free form game for the Playgournd Misfits, Imperial Guard Regiment in the Playground.

For the thread for the Regiment, http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=96259

Commissar Baxter was smiling. If that thought alone wasn’t scary, it was a smile few where live to recognize today. It wasn’t the smile he had worn, when he performed his now famous, “Blaze of glory run.” No, that day he wore a smile with a a bit of a blood solemn look, as if he knew he was going to die and wanted to go out fighting. The imperial guard unit he was with that day were outnumbered three to one that day by the head of the Ork wagh, where the Commissar had been ordered to try and take out the Ork war boss. Unfortunately, they were out numbered, and were quickly driven back and surrounded. Refusing to go out without a fight, Baxter had stood up, and exclaimed,
“Come one you ****ing P******, we’re going on a blaze of glory run!” With that said, he jumped over there cover, and charged the war boss. For the first few seconds, everyone was still firing, none of the shoots hitting him. However, eventually everyone stopped shooting, as the lone human ran all out towards the obviously much larger, and much more powerful ork war boss and his elite guard. As all watched dumbfounded, he ran close enough to swing his chain sword, leaped, stepped on an ork nob to use as a jumping point, and jumped. While he was in the air, he was higher up than the war boss, and brought his chain sword upon his neck, and cleanly severed his head. Yet again, all watched the human in all his audacity, pull the head of the fallen ork, and exclaim, “For the emperor!” As he was still here today, it was obvious he was successful.

Nor was it the smile of wanton blood lust, such as the day when he “Promoted” the colonel to his current position. That day, the previous colonel had just ordered a retreat from a large hive city to a more” secure position, deeper inside the tunnels. However, Baxter knew what he was suggesting was heresy. The Dark Eldar had engaged them, and were trying to desecrate the emperor’s must glorious temple! They had the eldar dangerously outnumbered, and if they would make one last charge, they would break them! Convinced the colonel was heretic for his plan, he shot the man on the spot when he exclaimed retreat. As all the guardsmen looked on in aw, Baxter grabbed his friends Lt. Cabal, and yelled, “This is your new leader.1 Hew shall lead us into battle, and victory, not your heretic previous colonel. Now, unto Glory!” Needless to say, he was still alive and won the battle.


[No, it the smile only his own, personal unit would know, as well as a number of close friends. It was the smile he wore when he had been accepted into the Commissar academy, when he was saved from almost certain death in close combat by a certain sniper’s fire from almost five miles away. It was the smile he had when the had a seen a certain psyker melt the face off of a heretic zealot, and when a bone’ead had tipped over a eldar tank because he though his lucky penny was under it. It was one that a pair of guardsmen that had survived his blaze of glory run had seen when they told him it was the awesome thing they had ever seen. It was the smile of utmost glee. It was the smile of man who stood in front a Baneblade tank ordered by his grandfather three generations ago, and was just finished, fresh from the blessign ceremony. Turning to Colonel Cabal beside him, Commissar Baxter said, “Think Goblin’s gonna like it?”

[chiasaur11]

Negotiations about to commence, sir.

And we both know what we mean by "negotiations", I hope.

[Fri]

Meanwhile, Imperial Guard #247, vanguard infantryman (that is the fancy name of meatshield), of Baxter's Bloody Bastards and Head Laundrymaster of Emperor's Most Holy Cleaning Service of Playground's Misfits stood with some of the new recruits in the kitchen.

"Some said that Logistic a.k.a kitchen service is where they put the misfits of the misfits. That's true, but not by what you think. Kitchen service is one of the most prestigious place where you can be assigned.

Some said that imperial guard's life is sacrifice, we must sacrifice our life for the emperor, for other guards, for our commsiars, for keeping the heretics and xenos and whatnot from touching our most-holy-and-damn-hard-to-move artillery.

So why don't you want to sacrifice yourself by throwing yourself into the line of vegetables for the life of our regiments!

Oh, and that's said, we do have 20% death ratio for newbies in the kitchen duty. Boy, the meats do pack some resistance."

[Krrth]

*Wincing at the explosions, Guardsman First Class Krrth (don't ask...let's just leave it at his mother was really, really drunk when she named him) grumbled under his breath.*


I've got to account for all that crap, but do they care? No....they think tank shells grow on trees or something. At least I'm not counting bullets this time. I never thought I'd be happy we have Lazguns.

[Foeofthelance]

Foeofthelance looked at the bastardized...thing sitting in front of him. Neatly lined up to either side of it were Basilisk Heavy Artillery tanks, their cannons pointed to the heavens, as if eager to rain down death on the Emperor's enemies. Standing in front of the Basilisks were their crews, all standing rigidly at attention.

Then there was the abomination in front of him. It was clearly based on Xeno technology, that much was obvious. It was larger than anything else in his unit, and was clearly designed to fly. The lines of the plane were sleek, cleaner than anything he had seen in the Imperial forces. But what really confused him were the two Earthshaker cannons that had somehow been mounted under the wings. He could see the complicated mechanisms to adjust their firing angle, and what might be a way to reload them in midair, but....

"WHERE IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME DID THIS COME FROM?" And much more importantly, "AND WHERE ARE MY FRAKKING BASILISKS THOSE TUBES CAME OFF OF?!?!"

"Sir, those are spare tubes, I believe," the trooper in front of the Thing answered. He and his crew were doing everything they could not to crack out the grins on their faces.

Before Foe could say anything else, a large truck pulled up next to him. The troopers inside of it began to quickly unload stacks of crates. Foe jogged over, curious as to this newest development. All of the boxes had the same stenciled labels.

"DICTIONARYDADE"

What was in the Emperor's Name was this?

[warty goblin]

Tank Commander Goblin sat comfortably in his jumpseat, the upper part of his torso sticking out of the turret hatch, and gazed down the imposing length of the Leman Russ' battle cannon. He preferred the sheer firepower and armored might of a Baneblade, but peace negotiations came with certain conditions, and one of those was 'no super heavy tanks.' Ah well, his first action had been in a Leman Russ. Shortly thereafter he'd won his Commander's chevrons in that very same tank.

That had been quite a few years ago now, he'd only been a gunner then. The bestial orks had been making a major incursion, and the half strength 224th Armor Company had been tasked with holding a minor road leading to a major city and shrine of the Emperor. Nobody had expected more than a few boyz to come that way, which was why only three vehicles were protecting it. Of the three only the single Leman Russ was a proper tank, the Chimera and Hellhound were respectable fighting machines, but no substitute for armored might. But nobody was expecting much trouble.

Everyone had been quite surprised therefor when a few hundred howling orks had crested the hill, spraying bullets everywhere, catching the company completely off guard. One of squad of guardsmen assigned to the Chimera had been relieving himself, and was the first to see the oncoming horde. He'd come tearing back to the cluster of vehicles about a hundred feet ahead of the foremost ork, and hopped right up on the back of the Leman Russ. The tank's commander was a bit slow in making up his mind to batten down the top hatch, at least until a big shoota round changed it for him, Removed most of it actually, they'd had to bury him with a basket under the cloth covering his face to make it look like he still had a head. The loader, a twitchy little fellow, froze right up, leaving then Gunner Goblin to stuff the first shell that he could reach into the breech and fire it straight into the oncoming horde. It had, by ill chance, been an armor piercing round and just blew a hole into a couple of orks, but it still slowed 'em down a bit. Goblin had then shouted up to the soldier clinging to the back of the turret to get on the rooftop stubber and shoot until either he ran out of ammunition or died, whichever came first.

The next shell Goblin had grabbed had been high explosive, thankfully, and had blown a considerable hole in the front of the enemy lines, giving the driver time to scramble into position and fire up the hull lascannon. The Hellhound had opened fire, literally, in just the nick of time, burning down a wave of orks about to scramble onto the still immobilized Russ, and then they were off, charging straight into the beasts, crushing them under the treads and riddling them with bolterfire. Under Goblin's somewhat extemporaneous command, they had driven back and forth in front of the Chimera and 'hound, keeping the orks from reaching the thinner armor. Fifteen minutes later, the artillery company over the next ridge finally figured out what was going on and started raining basilisk shells into the orks, and after that it was a mop up.

Three days later Goblin had earned Commander officially by rallying another armor company to keep a bunch of heretics from fleeing the city and spreading panic. It hadn't been pretty, but if they wouldn't listen to reason, they'd certainly listened to the battle cannon.


Now, on this alien world, all he had to do was wait, out here in the cover of the forest. Sooner or later his Commissar would issue the order, and then he'd get to shoot him some more xenos. He liked shooting xenos.

[Kane]

"Tiny thing, isn't it?" Gunner 1st Class Kane said, examining the shells and battle cannon of the Leman Russ.

"It's-!" one of the sponson gunners began.

"Yes, I know it's the main gun, I just like the *Baneblade much better! It's bigger and-" Gunner Kane was cut off by a loud clang as he attempted to straighten up. "there's room in there!" he finished, clutching his head, and turning the final words into a makeshift expletive.

"Haven't you ever been in a Leman Russ before?" the same sponson gunner asked.

"Yes, but only for a week. Get oriented, then I got promoted up. Someone decided that with previous experience, they wanted such a gunner for their command tank." Turning his head carefully, he raised his voice, "Thanks, Commander Goblin!"

"How'd you get kicked out of the Imperial Navy anyway?"

"Well... I wish it made for interesting telling, but really I just found that thin line between getting a CO upset enough to get rid of you, yet not justifiable for execution, or really, any punishment at all." A moment of thought ensued, at which point Kane resumed, "Really, kind of lucky. Keeps him from paying me off, keeps me from getting offed by a less-scrupulous subordinate trying to do him a favor. Er... As leader of a Vulture flight, I was kind of invited to his weekly card games, and, well.... If you ever feel like losing your pay for the next thirty years, I'd like to play cards with you some time. Course it have to be something big for me to try what I did to Captain Bizan..."

"What'd you do?"

"Ask me when we have a table and some cards. Neither in here, I think. Plus, you know, no money riding on it. If I'm going to show you a trick you can use to break the bank on any world we're stationed on, I want something for it."

[Innis Cabal]

Commander Cabal sat at his desk. Sure, not his dream position at the moment, but his men were good hard "Negotiators" and could handle themselves. All he had to do was sit back, and ready himself for any…hard treatments to come.

Good men were hard to come by. Men who’d die next to you because they were told to? Ya…those were harder.

[Weezer]

Corporal Weezer silently waved his team into position, waiting for them to obtain cover before finding it himself. Hidden deep in a thicket, he sights in on the negotiations, seeing his commissar approaching the foul grey-skinned xeno. scanning the treenlines he makes out the comforting sight of Commander Goblin's tank waiting for the command to fire. Panning back to the clearing he sights in on the unclean, patiently awaiting the order to cleanse the xeno scum.

[chiasaur11]

Lt. Chiasaur was...
nervous.

The Tau may be the most idealistic and likely negotiate bunch of xenos, but they still were unlikely to surrender unconditionally. Or at all.

And that meant that he'd be on the frontline when it all went down.

He wondered why he made this stupid plan in the first place, and desperately hoped he could steal a Barracuda before the Russes started firing.

[warty goblin]

"You're welcome!" Commander Goblin replied to his gunner. Really, that man's talents had been wasted in the Navy. Back in his days as a gunner, Goblin had been good, in the top third of his gun laying class, but Gunner Kane was...a natural. He pointed the gun, and the shells just seemed to go where he wanted them to, no worries about range, drop, terrain or windage.

Sighing, Commander Goblin went through his pre-battle check for the dozenth time. The spare vision blocks were at hand, the firing port in the turret was clear, the laspistol ready in its holster on the turret wall next to him, half a dozen frag grenades rattled in their box below it. The commander's gunsight was clean and calibrated, and the operations map was tapped up to the side of the turret. Yes, all it was now was a matter of waiting.

Waiting was the hard part though, always was. Once everything got going there almost wasn't time for fear, just instinct, training and the will to serve the Emperor to the last. Before that though he just had to sit and chunter, thinking through all the eventualities he was prepared for, and trying not to think of how many he wasn't. What if the Tau had seen through the plan? What if they had heavy armor somewhere in the woods as well, waiting? With skill Commander Goblin knew he'd be able to take on any of the lighter vehicles the Tau threw at him, Stingrays, Devilfish, they were just a battlecannon shot or two from being so much melting scrap, burning fuel and detonating ammunition. The broadside suits were a little more worrisome, they were small enough to take effective cover, and those railguns could quite possibly do significant damage, particularly to the treads or rear armor.

Commander Goblin had once been in a tank which had taken a Chaos lascannon to the a tread. Melted the whole assembly and burned the left sponson gunner clean in half. Fortunately the hull autocannon had cut that particular cultist into nice even sized pieces before he'd managed a second shot, and the beam hadn't touched off the fuel or ammo. Still, the following battle had been an exceptionally long one, unable to move and stuck on the front lines with rockets exploding everywhere and those Emperor-cursed Khornites screaming about blood. They'd gotten their blood though, oh yes. Power armor was tough, but a battle cannon didn't notice it all that much. Why the first berzerker wasn't even enough to touch off the HE shell, he'd just sort of disintegrated around it.

That had been the last time Commander Goblin had commanded a Russ. He'd gotten the Baneblade gig right after that and never looked back. Sure the 'blade might take most of a city block to turn around, but with that much firepower, if there wasn't space to make the turn, you could make the space, and when it came to laying waste to the worst the scum of an entire galaxy could throw at a person, there wasn't anything to beat it. With all the guns blazing, it would take somebody more crazed than a khornite ork to even think of getting close, and between the main cannon and the demolisher, there wasn't anyplace safe in a mile of the thing.

Unfortunately he wasn't in a Baneblade now, and he really wished he was. He could handle the Devilfish and the Stingrays, even the Broadsides. It was the Hammerheads that worried him the most. They outgunned the Russ, and were more maneuverable to boot. Fortunately they didn't have the armor to match. If he could get the drop on them, Commander Goblin would offer good odds that it wasn't his tank that'd be beaten into flaming ruin first. If he didn't get the drop, well, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it.

[thorgrim29]

Meanwhile, in the Tau city, Sergent Thorgrim of the 29th veteran squad was priming the last Krak mine around the Tau battledome, the idea was to keep any units currently in the structure in it, while not completely destroying the valuable building filled with xeno tech. Most of the time, he preferred good old imperial technology, like his beloved hellgun and chainsword, but even he had to admit some of those tau rifles were pretty amazing. His 25 vets stood by his side with their lean, scarred faces, many with augmetic replacements to lost limbs, good men all, who he would trust to battle any foe the Imperium's foes threw their way. He also had under his charge two squads of regular infantry, who he hoped would be up to the distasteful task he had for them. He spoke to the regulars first:

-Alright newbies, you get the easy job, according to intel only the "fire caste" are actual fighters, and most of those on duty are either out there to meed with our "traders" or in the battle dome I'm about to blow up. Your job is to go in their living quarters and kill them all, no quarter, no surrender for the xeno scum. Only one exception, if you see an ethereal, try to capture it, but don't take unnecessary risks to do so, basically if you see a Tau not in their ugly orange armor that seems to be leading troops, odds are it's an ethereal. So ransack through the living quarters, set a few fires if you can manage it, and join me and my squad in the armory. Alright go, get in position, attack when the city goes boom, and please try not to get noticed.

As the troopers go to their position, he motions his squad closer:

-Alright lads, you know the drill, the armory is probably the best defended part of town right now, but if everything goes according to plan the basilisks should shell the entrance a bit before we go in, but you know the artillery boys, so be ready for a hard fight. We go in fast, and we go in hard. If we come across battlesuits, let the plasma gunners handle it, otherwise, it's weapons free. With the battledome down and this building in our control, the battle will be much more easier for the rest of the misfits, so give all you've got, and remember, the Emperor protects those who serve Him well, so kick some xeno arse.

As the soldiers go about their pre-battle rituals, the Sarge waits for the signal, a seemingly random series of static on his vox unit.

[KnightDisciple]

Veteran Trooper Knight Disciple looked nervous.
"Don't know how much I like this, Sarge. Feel nervous-like. Too many newbies."
He pauses to hawk a loogie on the ground.
"Ah well. Just point me where you need me, Sarge."

[Lord Mancow]

As Air Marshal Mancow gazed over the dark airfield he saw, with a spark of happiness, the eastern sky begin to brighten. He smiled, this was one of those smiles that you can wait your entire life to see and never see it. The men of the 24th Luftwaffe knew that this smile meant it was time to support the negotiations in the Tau city. No one* had ever asked the Generalleutnant how he and his 25 Luftwaffe divisions had come to be in every battle involving the misfits.

"It's quite a tale," The Generalleutnant told his men. He would tell them this story before every battle.

The Dark Angels had originally come to the backwater planet that he had called home to recruit new marines for service. They'd asked him and his brother to join the Chapter. His brother had accepted but Mancow had refused, saying, "I don't want to be in you Dark Angels strange little regiment! I wish to join the Navy and gain command of my own Luftwaffe and I'll show you the real meaning of a space fortress!" Before walking off before their librarians fried his brain. He was scorned by his family when he returned and as a result took to the streets.

He became experienced at looking after himself and at the age of 15 lied about his age and joined the navy. From there he had made his way to fighter command and at the age of just 21 took control of his own division which he named the Luftwaffe. He and his Luftwaffe had been fighting in the battle of Tallernam Prime when they had encountere some strange Chaos Marines. The Dark Angels had then shown up and attacked these Marines that they called the Unforgiving before turning on the Navy in a cover-up, much like the Grey Knights do when a Daemon invasion occurs. All the senior officers were killed in the opening engagement and so Squadron commander Mancow took control and lead a daring break out operation. During the escape run his cruiser was assaulted by the Dark Angels and he was forced to fight his brother, who was now a full battle-brother of the Chapter and managed to hit him in the legs and escape but he didn't have the strength to kill his brother.

He and what were left of the force he was with then proceeded to join the Misfits and have a ongoing rivalry with the Dark Angels. This has reached the point where they now intend to construct their own asteroid super-fortress for use by the Misfits.

His second in command then came up to him and said through his vox-caster,"The Generalleutnant's Luftwaffe! I sure didn't expect that!"
The Generalleutnant's forces then called back, "No one expects the Generalleutnant's Luftwaffe!" before climbing into their Thunderbolts and Marauders and beginning to launch.
The Generalleutnant smiled to himself,"These negotiations shall be fun" he thought . As he climbed into his Black, red and yellow thunderbolt with it's Imperial Aquillia on the side.

The negotiations had begun.

*who wasn't a part of the regiment**
**yes, even the Inquistion

[Zenos]

Sentinel Pilot Karhaha sat in his sentinel, near a building, overlooking a pair of charred kroot corpses and trying to clean off kroot bits from his vehicles bladed feet. He climbed back into the cockpit and turned on the vox.
"Hello? This is sentinel unit #070899, requesting repair unit. Immobilized sentinel leg. A xenos got in a good hit on a joint"

[chiasaur11]

Lt. Chiasaur cleared his throat. "Sir, I, on the behalf of the Imperial guard, wish to begin negotiations. Firstly..."

He then noticed a slight disturbance in the distance. It looked to be a good deal of Tau firepower... dinging off a sentinel.

Negotiations, it seemed, needed to commence a good deal more quickly.

He quietly muttered something about trigger happy recruits and quickly began running for the nearest transport.

[Moonlitrebel]

Trooper Illiya Moon sat on a rotted stump, his trusty flamer resting by his side. As he looked up, he noticed two men walking towards him. One was Petroz, a man who had fought many battles alongside Illiya in the name of the Emperor. The other man Illiya had seen around, but did not know. He was a new recruit, sent in two weeks ago. Illiya couldn't be bothered to find out his name. He'd probably be dead within the month anyway.

“Why did we have to be the ones left in gakking rearguard!?” the newcomer asked.
“Command decided they needed to hold some troops in reserve in case 'negotiations' went awry.” Illiya answered nonchalantly.
“The only time we'll see battle is in mop up duty!” the boy complained. “I want to send some of those Xenos scum to hell!”

Illiya just grunted. To be honest, he liked being held back in reserve. It was safer. To be frank, he didnt trust his squad mates. Petroz, he trusted with his life, but the rest of them were fresh meat, straight out of training. And the fact of the matter was, no matter how well trained, rookies made mistakes. Mistakes that cost lives. He took a lho stick out of his pocket and lit it up. It was his fifth this day.

“Do you ever not smoke?” the lad asked, “I swear, I've never seen you without one of those in your mouth!”
“I have!” Petroz chimed in, “But thats only when hes sleeping. Or drinkin'.”
Illiya silenced his old friend with an icy glare. “The day I go to the Emperor's pearly gates is the day ill stop smoking.”
“But dont you know how dangerous they are?” the recruit asked.
“Dangerous? You wanna know dangerous!?” Illiya roared. “have you ever seen a “nid!?”
“Of course ive seen pictures.... “the lad stammered.
“No, not pictures. Have you ever had one so close to you, you can smell its breath?”
“No.”
“Well, when you have the privilege of having that happen., you can tell me how dangerous my little habit is. Until then, just turn around and leave me alone.”
Embarrased, the recruit turned away, but not before muttering, “Those sticks will be the death of you....”
Illiya sat back, inhaled the narcotic deeply, and smiled. He would be a lucky man indeed, if these were the death of him.

[warty goblin]

With a sigh, Commander Goblin straightened up as much as was possible in the cramped Russ. "OK men, it's time."

"You all know what to do. Remember, the enemy most likely doesn't know we're coming, and will probably be unprepared. This does not mean we are out of danger though. It is said that only in death does one's service to the Emperor stop, and I plan to go on serving the Emperor for a good few years yet." That got a few chuckles, it always did.

"Our boys on the ground are hitting a xeno armory over there. They've got the artillery, the air wing, and the new air wing of the artillery all supporting 'em directly, so I guess they don't need us."

"But they need a secure route to evac through along with all the xeno weapons they've taken. That means this road here, and that's where we come in. Our job is simple, we're gonna drive up to that road and frag any alien scum who set foot in it, wait for the infantry to fall back, and then cover their retreat. And when I say any alien, I mean any alien, make the ones with guns top priority, but shoot 'em all. This is a negotiation after all, and negotiations mean one thing, mass alien casualties."

"I said our job is simple, don't mean it's easy. These aliens might be a bunch of blue communist space cows, but that doesn't mean they don't know how to fight. I say we hit 'em hard and we hit 'em fast, just the way the Emperor intended armor to be used when he invented the tank."

"Now, for the Guard, for loot, and above all, FOR THE IMPERIUM!"

With that, the tank was off, crashing through brush, spraying dirt. They reached the road unopposed, sponson guns blazing and civilian transports erupting in flames. From inside the armored copula, Commander Goblin scanned the scene, looking for anything that could be an enemy. So far so good...no, that was not good.

"Stingray gunships, two of 'em, bearing fifteen points left. Move to face and-"
The tank shuddered as a group of missiles burst on the forward glacis, rocking backwards on its treads. "-Gunner Kane, fire at will!"

[Innis Cabal]

Commander Cabal had heard of the disturbince, gunning it for the nearest Chimera bay. He made a swift motion at the rest of his command squad as they piled into the large vehicle

"I see its time to get going boys! For new weapons!"

The rest of the squad cheered as the transport ripped away to the front lines.

[WychWeird]

WychWeird turned to the servitor whose lower face had been replaced with a voxcaster and listened to the incoming transmission, "Hello? This is sentinel unit #070899, requesting repair unit. Immobilized sentinel leg. A xenos got in a good hit on a joint." He sighed as he turned to the Sentinel servitors and nodded to them.

"Inform #070899 that I shall personally accompany the repair crew," He said to what he called the Voxitor, "And arrange a rhino to deliver me to #070899's location."

As the servitors moved to the loading bay, WychWeird annoited his servo-enhanced arm with some rare oil brought from Mars, "May the Machine God protect protect that sentinel and keep it's spirit intact." He thought, "We can always get another Guardsman."

[Krrth]

"Hello? This is sentinel unit #070899, requesting repair unit. Immobilized sentinel leg. A xenos got in a good hit on a joint."


.....Great, more costs. I really hope we can get some decent parts from this. Negotiation in force. Or is that with force. Something like that. Anyways....time to get out the "salvage" inventory book.

[Foeofthelance]

The dull roar of explosions echoed into the Basilisks' emplacement as the firing began in the distance, and Foe shook his head. They were supposed to tell him when they were gonna kick off the fight! They always forgot to tell the artillery. He was probably going to get some complaints about some idiot walking under his barrage at that. No matter how often he pointed it out or brought it up in staff meetings, the other commanders just never got around to telling their men that his Earthshaker rounds had automatic right of way on the field of battle.

"Alright men, the bell is up!" He yelled, getting a roar of approval from the men. "You know what to do, just as we've drilled. Tubes one through three, give 'em some queasy stomachs with the pounders. Four and five, you got the smokes. Six?" He paused and turned around to the crates that had just been delivered. He didn't know what a Dictionarydade round was, but if they had been delivered to him he was darn well gonna use 'em. "Six, you get the special delivery. I want an after action on how well it handles! Hop to it men!"

The men gave another cheer as they turned around to their vehicles and mounted up. It took less than a minute before the Basilisk boomed, sending the Emperor's special compliments to the preloaded Tau positions. Foe knew those positions were probably wrong, but someone was going to be having a bad day, and it might as well not be him.

"Sir, what about us?" asked the the crew leader standing in front of the Thing.

Foe considered it for a moment. The Earthshakers had been mounted on the undersides of the wings, so there was no way to elevate them up high enough to fire them. Which meant they would have to be above the target in order to work... Ah well. If he was in the air, then maybe he wouldn't be there if the Tau broke through the lines. "I've got the stick," he finally announced. "You lot get on the guns. We'll see how well this works out."

The cockpit to the Thing had been left open, and he discovered that someone had conveniently replaced the original seat with a much more comfortable leather upholstered one. That was nice of whom ever was responsible. There were three buttons arranged in a line on his right armrest, which he took to be options of somesort. They might have remembered to make the seat suitable for humans, but the modifiers had forgotten to put labels on things. There was also a stick between his legs, which be grabbed hold of with one hand. He thumbed the vox with the other. "Every one ready?"

"Aye commander!" came the enthusiastic response.

He smashed the green button, and a voice spoke in an alien tongue. Nothing else happened. So he smashed the buttong again. The voice spoke, but again, nothing else. So he smashed it again. Green meant go, didn't it?

There was a loud thump from beneath him, and then the craft rocketed skyward at an impossibly fast rate. He grabbed the stick out of reflex, and the craft rushed forward like an angry bull. Pulling back the nose rose, and the craft slowed, till it was hovering in midair. Further experiments proved that left was left, and right was right. Well, at least he could fly the thing. He shoved the stick as far forward as it could go, and the craft dashed through the air.

"Sir, we're closing on the enemy tanks position!" one of the gunners called over the comnet.

"Gun one, on your mark, fire!" Foe ordered. There was a muffled boom from under the left wing as the Earthshaker roared...

The men responsible for modifiying the Thing had forgotten one specific fact. A Basilisk's main gun had monstrous recoil. Normally this recil was absorbed through the treads, which in turn passed it onto the planet. And strong as the shock was, most planets could take such a hit without noticing. (There had been a few incidents here and there which had led to accidental discoveries of sinkholes and tunnel networks, but those were ignored for all practical purposes.) The Thing, however, was not connected to the ground.

The recoil of the gun shoved the left wing up suddenly, causing the strange hybrid craft to go tumbling through the air...

[Zenos]

Karhaha was sitting in the cockpit, fingering his laspistol. Then he saw several brown-skinned xenos breaking from cover. He activated the vox and said "More Kroot! I'll try to hold, but I don't think I can keep fighting for long."
He swivelled the sentinel's head around, training the heavy flamer on the Kroot mercenaries. They were getting closer, he snapped off a shot with his laspistol at one of the foul xenos, and it was satisfying that it dropped with one arm less. Then the kroot shot back, and Karhaha ducked beneath the cover of the cockpit.

[warty goblin]

Commander Goblin grinned in triumph as Gunner Kane's second shell hit the last of the Stingrays dead center. The armor piercing core blew a two inch hole into the flimsy xeno armor, but failed to overpenetrate. Perfect, the superheated core would now ricochet around the interior of the vehicle, cutting the crew to paste and setting things afire. Sure enough, the gunship lurched to one side, and then blew in half as the fuel detonated.
"That's the last of 'em, well done crew!" Goblin shouted over the thunder of the tank wheeling to face back up the road.

"Hello? This is sentinel unit #070899, requesting repair unit. Immobilized sentinel leg. A xenos got in a good hit on a joint."

Goblin grimaced, that just figured. He hated it when a vehicle got stranded. Still he had to hold the road, there wasn't anything else for it. Not that it looked like the road really needed held anymore. The gutted ruins of a dozen or more civilian vehicles littered the ground, smoldering. Here and there amid the wreckage of the two Stingrays, the propellant of some stray missile caught fire and the weapon flew into the sky with a whine before exploding overhead, fireworks to celebrate the defeat of the xeno.

"More Kroot! I'll try to hold, but I don't think I can keep fighting for long."

That tore it. There wasn't anything on the road left to shoot, and he would eat ork steak before he would leave a perfectly good sentinel and pilot to the tender mercy of a bunch of genetic freaks. "Driver, move us to Grid Coordinate... 13 by 53, and step on it."

The driver looked like he was going to object, that the coordinates were outside of their operational area, but then he remembered the location the distress call had come from, and also that the commander had a laspistol up there. The tank lurched forwards, gathering speed.

They rounded a corner, tracks sliding out, and slammed headlong into a small army of Fire Warriors, some still scrambling to put on helmets or grab pulse rifles. Before he'd even had time to issue the order, Goblin heard the sponson bolters and hull autocannon open fire as the tank lurching onwards, crushing aliens in the treads. In a moment they were through, and Goblin glanced back at the shattered formation, only to see with some consternation a Fire Warrior clamber up onto the back of the Russ, and pull a plasma grenade out of his belt.

Before the xeno scum had time to do something clever involving the grenade and the turret ring, Goblin seized the laspistol and jammed it out of the firing port on the rear of the turret, letting the xeno have it full blast. It was a good thing it was close range, otherwise the armor might have kept the las blast out. As it was the Fire Warrior lost most of his right thigh, and rolled off the back of the tank, apparently rethinking his martial carrier. "Keep going," Goblin ordered the driver, "we're nearly there."

[thorgrim29]

-Well, that was typical
Mutters sargent thorgrim as the first shots ring out.

-Well then lads, look like no one deigned to signal us, so the party is already started, and we've got some xeno to kill, so lets go, for the emperor!

A few bewildered fire warriors were already coming out of the battle dome when he pushed the big red button on his jury rigged detonator, and they were disintegrated before they even knew what the hell was happening. The explosion threw some of the vets on the ground, and left the other with an unpleasant ringing in their ears, but they charged as one man nonetheless. In a matter of moments, the five Tau warriors on guard duty were dead, the imperials having sustained only minor injuries. The sargent took the emitting end of the squad voxcaster and spoke a few brief sentences into it:

-Squad 29 has penetrated the armory, are preparing to go in, repeat, squad 29 is in the armory.

Cautiously, the vets entered the building proper, half of them had holstered their hellguns and were revving their shiny new chainswords, laspistol in the other hand, the other half were prepared to splatter any xeno scum they came across.

[Krrth]

-Squad 29 has penetrated the armory, are preparing to go in, repeat, squad 29 is in the armory.


Squad 29, make sure you get a good count of everything. We wouldn't want something to "fall off" the books.

[Foeofthelance]

Foe let the plane/tank roll over, turning into the roll until the plane righted itself. "I think Im gonna be sick!" someone whined over the vox.

"Quiet out there!" Foe ordered. "No getting sick onboard the Thing! You vomit, you clean it!" Grumbling to himself, he switched over the general communications network. No one had contacted him for a fire salvo, but that was not a surprise. It was generally left to him to determine where the best way to spend his shells.

"Hello? This is sentinel unit #070899, requesting repair unit. Immobilized sentinel leg. A xenos got in a good hit on a joint." Well, that sounded like a request to him. Enemy unit trapped behind enemy lines? Definitely a task for firesupport until rescue units could arrive.

"This is Basilisk Six, all units, fire on Grid Coordinates 13/53, say again, fire on grid coordinates 13/53. Fire Plan Back Scratch, repeat, Fire Plan Back Scratch. On my mark..."

He steered the Thing over to the area he was looking at. Actually, being up here wasn't so bad. If anything, at least he knew how to call for fire, something which half the FNGs in the regiment didn't. Probably why they had such a high turn over rate... Down below he could see a solitary Leeman Russ charging into a pack of Kroot and Firewarriors, which had almost surrounded a lone sentinel, bowed on one knee. He switched over to the squad net for the men on the Thing. "Gun One, Gun Two, synchronized fire. Walk it from the Leeman back to the Sentinel, then over the hill. On my mark..." He switch back to the general net. "All Basilisk units, FIRE!"

The Thing bucked beneath him, jumping in the air as both Earthshaker Cannons fired vertically down. It jumped again and again as the crews rapidly reloaded and fired. He managed to get a good look out the window as th ground in front of the Leeman exploded in a fountain of dirt, then another pair of explosions as they shells walked to the enemy...

[warty goblin]

"Holy Horus in Hell, what in the name of the Emperor was that?" Somebody shouted up from the depths of the main combat compartment, as overhead an aircraft screamed by, and the ground and kroot in front of the Russ exploded into sprays of dirt and less pleasant things.

"That," said Commander Goblin laconically, 'is the artillery's new air wing."

[chiasaur11]

Great.

The Tau double cross us and bring an army to a diplomatic meeting.

If we hadn't done the same thing, I'd be insulted.

Lt. Chiasaur desperately dashed into a Tau Orca, hoping his armor, stolen on an early "diplomatic mission" would allow him to pass as the enemy for long enough to be alone in the pilot seat. After that, well, an Orca should be able too...

He then spotted a Manta. The plan was rapidly beginning to revise itself. The Orca could land in that thing's docking bay... And who would be paranoid enough to guard against their own dropship pilots?

Well, he* would, but he very much hoped the Tau wouldn't.

*And his commander would, and his commander's commander would, and most of the troops under him would... heavy weapons units with a tendency towards custom weapons tend to be either very skittish, very good planners, or very dead.

[Foeofthelance]

Foe used the time the gunners needed to reload to circle the battlefield, trying to evaluate the damge they had done. The Leman Russ tank was slowly advancing up a brown road, occasionally dipping up and down as it entered and exited the craters left behind. Its goal was the lone Sentinel, kneeling on a circle of green in a ring of tossed dirt. At the height they were flying at, he couldn't see the body parts from slain xenos, but he didn't need to. Below a grey mass of kroots was advancing much more slowly towards the Sentinel. 'What is with those guys?' Foe thought as the Guard tank began to take the Tau soldiers under fire. 'Its just a Sentinel! Why sic most of their army on it?'

As the thought occured to him, Foe's eyes narrowed. He had spent too much time in the company of Commander Warty, Commander Cabal, and Commissar Baxter for his mind to not assume the Guard unit was being led into a trap. Those three could confuse a rock into getting up and walking away if they wanted to. Their paranoia and cunning was, fortunately for the others in the Regiment, at least those who survived, infectious.

Foe broke his pattern just as the first smoke round went off in the middle of the kroot. White phosphorous detonated, burning those unlucky enough to be too close to the shells when they went off, spilling white smoke onto the battlefield. Figuring he couldn't do anything if he couldn't see the ground, he decided to go check out the rest of the action.

After a few minutes flying, he came across what might have been a Tau airfield. Circling, he could see troops loading into Orcas, at least one of which looked like it was going to try docking with the Manta the Tau had brought to carry the gear the Misfits were supposed to be 'negotiating' for. Something puzzled him though. Where were the Barracudas and other fighters that were supposed to be guarding the treasure?

His thoughts were cutoff as a blue blaze of rail cannon rounds flashed past his cockpit, narrowly missing the Thing. 'Oh. There they are.' He twisted the stick over, turning the Thing about to face the new threat...