Post by The Governor on May 3, 2016 23:12:38 GMT
Maarlox, Fifth Line
All over the fifth line, heavy laser turrets and trisilviate rail guns opened fire on the Invaders. In the high trenches, Lieutenant Tiller continued to command the defence. The Invaders were right on top of Confederate positions now, although the minefields had slowed the charge of the tanks to a crawl. As the horde drew closer, Tiller noticed the fighting intensify.
Despite their distance, the enemy tanks sounded loud and close. As for the Invaders, they crashed into Confederate lines like a pale tide. Assaults were taken in stride, and beaten back. A lone Invader ran at a trench. Dozens of rifles and several turrets shot it up. More like them came. They were also repulsed. But then larger mobs would come, and all the efforts of the gunners couldn't stop the tide. But the other commandos had dug in, and fought tooth and nail. With blade, bulk, and battle armour, the Naval Commandos did their duty to stop the Invaders. Tiller smiled at this. The Invaders were having a great deal of trouble breaching the line. But suddenly all of that changed.
A figure with pale skin and white hair had arrived. With a height of 6'1, he was dwarfed on many sides by the massive Dothvalians all around him. He was about the same as many of the human commandos. This size belied a strength completely inhuman, as the creature battled several Confederates at once. He was also incredibly fast, and his fighting style was insanely aggressive. The Invader slammed an armoured fist into a Dothvalian's chest plate, denting the armour and hurtling the commando backwards. He seemed unstable. The creature seemed to be talking to his weapon. And as he did so, he plunged it through the heart of another Confederate soldier, before hastily withdrawing it and killing more.
Some of the men began to flee, and Tiller understood he was beginning to lose control of the situation. He said in a commanding tone, "Everyone forward! Don't you dare run! It's me, not the Invaders you should fear."
"But sir," one specialist said. "The High Invader. The one that's better than the others. He's tearing us apart."
Over a comm, Tiller said evenly, "All troops, hold your positions whatever it may take. And forget about that High Invader. He's just another freak, and I'll deal with him."
He then advanced towards the Invader and drew his sword, unafraid. Perhaps this Invader was better than the others, but nothing was invincible. At 6'5, Tiller was easily one of the larger human Naval Commandos, and the High Invader was much smaller. With or without unnatural strength, no way it had every inch of its body packed with muscle, like Tiller had. And the Confederate commander was no stranger to combat. When Lestat's compound was stormed during the Terror Wars, Tiller had been at the front of every battle, going toe to toe and winning against the best soldiers the EOH had to offer. Finally, he had personally studied bladed combat for years before trisilviate became a requirement. He had a better body, a wealth of combat experience, and intimate knowledge of the sword. Before Tiller discovered the truth, there was no way he could lose.
Rho smiled as he was approached. The opponent for the moment was Lieutenant Blake Tiller, someone with whom he had worked extensively in his old life. The man was brash, impulsive, and just a bit overconfident. He was also much bigger than most human or Invader combatants, and used that to his advantage. Finally, Rho knew of the Lieutenant's skill with weapons. They had been close rivals an eternity ago. But now he had the advantage, whatever the size difference between them.
Rho didn't say anything as the Lieutenant approached, but waved his men off and grinned. He was going to enjoy this. And so the battle began. High against twisted trisilviate, man against monster. Tiller's strokes fell first, furious and heavy. Even as durable as he was now, Rho dodged the attacks. He didn't want to test his new body any more than he had to. Rho tried to counter, but his stroke was blocked. Knowing what happened next would be a pure contest of strength, he edged closer. But like a train from nowhere, the potent right arm and clenched fist of Tiller slammed into Rho's jaw. Even through his new body, he could feel a small amount of pain and staggered a step backwards. Now angered, Rho let loose his own flurry of strokes. Tiller blocked several, the blades dancing wildly. But the Confederate commander had a major flaw.
He was big and tough, but also slow. One of Rho's strikes slashed along his armour, tearing the thinnest part of the metal open. It was a graze along the shoulder, and blood poured out. The red droplets froze before they hit the snow. Tiller cursed, knowing the exposed area would freeze soon. Despite this, he continued battling the High Invader. He knew he was the only one on the battlefield who could last against the thing for more than a few strokes.
But his determination mattered for little as frigid air dug into his body, distracting Tiller and slowing him down even more. He had gone from a slow and capable swordsman to a lumbering fighter who could barely keep pace with the High Invader. More cuts tore into him, and one stab in particular, aimed just below and through his hip caused Tiller to collapse to the ground. Knowing he wouldn't be able to rise and continue, the commando officer grabbed a CI-56 and prepared to fire a cryonic round into the enemy.
But Rho was too fast. He had seen these weapons before, and knew what Tiller was planning. He swung the sword downward in a flash, severing Tiller’s right hand. The officer shouted in pain, but quickly lost feeling. He then looked up at the High Invader. He asked in a tone of controlled fury, “Who are you?”
The thing tapped on his battered armour, and Tiller was just now noticing it was once Confederate. He then noticed the sideways silver cross of a Lieutenant on the collarbone, and the faded but discernible insignia of Wendigo Company. Recognition of the small frame and aggressive fighting style flashed in Tiller's eyes as he said, "My God Michael. So you're alive. You would become one of their higher ups."
Knowing the last comment was a dig at his love of violence, Rho grew offended and replied, “Damned right. But I’m going to go on living. Unlike you.”
With that, Rho picked up the CI-56 Tiller had dropped, changed the setting to trisilviate rounds, and fired three into the helpless commando. Tiller fell to the ground, dead. The trisilviate bullets prevented him from rising, which is exactly what Rho had wanted. He didn't want rivals for favour with the High Ones.
Maarlox, Command Centre
In the command centre, Faanes felt real fear for the first time. His second in command had just been executed, and the defence would crumble shortly now. He said to Dr Kenaaros, “Dr. I’m afraid we have to go. There’s little more we can do to save Maarlox. We never planned on saving it anyway, but it’s obviously lost now. Are there any last measures, any additional surprises we can throw at the Invaders?”
The R and D Director thought for some time before answering, “There are a few things. But they’re internal defence measures. And all of them are very old, forgotten initiatives. That’s why I saved them until now. Nobody the Invaders have absorbed would know about them. Even so, these devices were never perfected. So I don't know how effective they'll be.”
“Deploy them all, then we go. No telling how long we have before the Invaders penetrate the base.”
“Alright.” With that, the scientist accessed a list of commands. She selected 'files', 'holo guards', run, deploy. She then chose, 'projects', 'winter mechs', deploy. She finally chose 'defence measures', 'conventional and unconventional', activate.
Faanes then said over a general command comm, “All forces, retreat inside the base, and make a defensive retreat towards the landing platforms. There’s only one transport left that can't hold all of us, but I doubt we’ll have that trouble by the time the Invaders have taken over, by which time we’ll be long gone.”
As the two headed for the landing platforms, the contents of the database continued to be deleted, now nearly half the information was gone.
Landing Platforms
Seeing the Invader fighters attacking the transport, Confederate Vanishers raced up to meet them. The fighters were about evenly matched, and despite the superior combat ability of the Invader pilots, the determination of the Confederates and their fire support from ground and space made the groups almost evenly matched. Even so, several transports were destroyed, and many others were damaged. They mainly focused on reaching orbit, and making a near suicidal jump to hyperspace before the Invaders closed FTL off completely.
High Orbit, Maarlox
Relieved at the arrival of other forces, Henderson's ships simply continued their current actions. They fought with all their resources and determination, and hoped the others were doing the same. She felt as though some of the Invaders' attention had been taken by the new arrivals, which was a relief.
All over the fifth line, heavy laser turrets and trisilviate rail guns opened fire on the Invaders. In the high trenches, Lieutenant Tiller continued to command the defence. The Invaders were right on top of Confederate positions now, although the minefields had slowed the charge of the tanks to a crawl. As the horde drew closer, Tiller noticed the fighting intensify.
Despite their distance, the enemy tanks sounded loud and close. As for the Invaders, they crashed into Confederate lines like a pale tide. Assaults were taken in stride, and beaten back. A lone Invader ran at a trench. Dozens of rifles and several turrets shot it up. More like them came. They were also repulsed. But then larger mobs would come, and all the efforts of the gunners couldn't stop the tide. But the other commandos had dug in, and fought tooth and nail. With blade, bulk, and battle armour, the Naval Commandos did their duty to stop the Invaders. Tiller smiled at this. The Invaders were having a great deal of trouble breaching the line. But suddenly all of that changed.
A figure with pale skin and white hair had arrived. With a height of 6'1, he was dwarfed on many sides by the massive Dothvalians all around him. He was about the same as many of the human commandos. This size belied a strength completely inhuman, as the creature battled several Confederates at once. He was also incredibly fast, and his fighting style was insanely aggressive. The Invader slammed an armoured fist into a Dothvalian's chest plate, denting the armour and hurtling the commando backwards. He seemed unstable. The creature seemed to be talking to his weapon. And as he did so, he plunged it through the heart of another Confederate soldier, before hastily withdrawing it and killing more.
Some of the men began to flee, and Tiller understood he was beginning to lose control of the situation. He said in a commanding tone, "Everyone forward! Don't you dare run! It's me, not the Invaders you should fear."
"But sir," one specialist said. "The High Invader. The one that's better than the others. He's tearing us apart."
Over a comm, Tiller said evenly, "All troops, hold your positions whatever it may take. And forget about that High Invader. He's just another freak, and I'll deal with him."
He then advanced towards the Invader and drew his sword, unafraid. Perhaps this Invader was better than the others, but nothing was invincible. At 6'5, Tiller was easily one of the larger human Naval Commandos, and the High Invader was much smaller. With or without unnatural strength, no way it had every inch of its body packed with muscle, like Tiller had. And the Confederate commander was no stranger to combat. When Lestat's compound was stormed during the Terror Wars, Tiller had been at the front of every battle, going toe to toe and winning against the best soldiers the EOH had to offer. Finally, he had personally studied bladed combat for years before trisilviate became a requirement. He had a better body, a wealth of combat experience, and intimate knowledge of the sword. Before Tiller discovered the truth, there was no way he could lose.
Rho smiled as he was approached. The opponent for the moment was Lieutenant Blake Tiller, someone with whom he had worked extensively in his old life. The man was brash, impulsive, and just a bit overconfident. He was also much bigger than most human or Invader combatants, and used that to his advantage. Finally, Rho knew of the Lieutenant's skill with weapons. They had been close rivals an eternity ago. But now he had the advantage, whatever the size difference between them.
Rho didn't say anything as the Lieutenant approached, but waved his men off and grinned. He was going to enjoy this. And so the battle began. High against twisted trisilviate, man against monster. Tiller's strokes fell first, furious and heavy. Even as durable as he was now, Rho dodged the attacks. He didn't want to test his new body any more than he had to. Rho tried to counter, but his stroke was blocked. Knowing what happened next would be a pure contest of strength, he edged closer. But like a train from nowhere, the potent right arm and clenched fist of Tiller slammed into Rho's jaw. Even through his new body, he could feel a small amount of pain and staggered a step backwards. Now angered, Rho let loose his own flurry of strokes. Tiller blocked several, the blades dancing wildly. But the Confederate commander had a major flaw.
He was big and tough, but also slow. One of Rho's strikes slashed along his armour, tearing the thinnest part of the metal open. It was a graze along the shoulder, and blood poured out. The red droplets froze before they hit the snow. Tiller cursed, knowing the exposed area would freeze soon. Despite this, he continued battling the High Invader. He knew he was the only one on the battlefield who could last against the thing for more than a few strokes.
But his determination mattered for little as frigid air dug into his body, distracting Tiller and slowing him down even more. He had gone from a slow and capable swordsman to a lumbering fighter who could barely keep pace with the High Invader. More cuts tore into him, and one stab in particular, aimed just below and through his hip caused Tiller to collapse to the ground. Knowing he wouldn't be able to rise and continue, the commando officer grabbed a CI-56 and prepared to fire a cryonic round into the enemy.
But Rho was too fast. He had seen these weapons before, and knew what Tiller was planning. He swung the sword downward in a flash, severing Tiller’s right hand. The officer shouted in pain, but quickly lost feeling. He then looked up at the High Invader. He asked in a tone of controlled fury, “Who are you?”
The thing tapped on his battered armour, and Tiller was just now noticing it was once Confederate. He then noticed the sideways silver cross of a Lieutenant on the collarbone, and the faded but discernible insignia of Wendigo Company. Recognition of the small frame and aggressive fighting style flashed in Tiller's eyes as he said, "My God Michael. So you're alive. You would become one of their higher ups."
Knowing the last comment was a dig at his love of violence, Rho grew offended and replied, “Damned right. But I’m going to go on living. Unlike you.”
With that, Rho picked up the CI-56 Tiller had dropped, changed the setting to trisilviate rounds, and fired three into the helpless commando. Tiller fell to the ground, dead. The trisilviate bullets prevented him from rising, which is exactly what Rho had wanted. He didn't want rivals for favour with the High Ones.
Maarlox, Command Centre
In the command centre, Faanes felt real fear for the first time. His second in command had just been executed, and the defence would crumble shortly now. He said to Dr Kenaaros, “Dr. I’m afraid we have to go. There’s little more we can do to save Maarlox. We never planned on saving it anyway, but it’s obviously lost now. Are there any last measures, any additional surprises we can throw at the Invaders?”
The R and D Director thought for some time before answering, “There are a few things. But they’re internal defence measures. And all of them are very old, forgotten initiatives. That’s why I saved them until now. Nobody the Invaders have absorbed would know about them. Even so, these devices were never perfected. So I don't know how effective they'll be.”
“Deploy them all, then we go. No telling how long we have before the Invaders penetrate the base.”
“Alright.” With that, the scientist accessed a list of commands. She selected 'files', 'holo guards', run, deploy. She then chose, 'projects', 'winter mechs', deploy. She finally chose 'defence measures', 'conventional and unconventional', activate.
Faanes then said over a general command comm, “All forces, retreat inside the base, and make a defensive retreat towards the landing platforms. There’s only one transport left that can't hold all of us, but I doubt we’ll have that trouble by the time the Invaders have taken over, by which time we’ll be long gone.”
As the two headed for the landing platforms, the contents of the database continued to be deleted, now nearly half the information was gone.
Landing Platforms
Seeing the Invader fighters attacking the transport, Confederate Vanishers raced up to meet them. The fighters were about evenly matched, and despite the superior combat ability of the Invader pilots, the determination of the Confederates and their fire support from ground and space made the groups almost evenly matched. Even so, several transports were destroyed, and many others were damaged. They mainly focused on reaching orbit, and making a near suicidal jump to hyperspace before the Invaders closed FTL off completely.
High Orbit, Maarlox
Relieved at the arrival of other forces, Henderson's ships simply continued their current actions. They fought with all their resources and determination, and hoped the others were doing the same. She felt as though some of the Invaders' attention had been taken by the new arrivals, which was a relief.
