On this the 1st quarter of 2010, we will be running a play-testing campaign at our friendly local store, 2D10 Games, in Fort Myers, Florida (USA). Our main objective is to stress test the Kroot Mercenary, the Imperial Guard Catachan Jungle Fighters and the Chaos Cultists Squads in a semi-controlled environment. While we want to determine how this Squads fare against each other in a long term campaign setting (see how their growth affects their balancing) we are also planning to test several concepts that may never (or very improbably) be seen in a regular campaign. Before every game we will discuss elements that we would like to tests and after the game we will discuss how those elements (as well as other surprises) came to be. Based on results, changes to the Core Rules may be written... although more likely the changes will be at a Squad-level.

The campaign will be played using standard rules (700 points) by Dozer (Chaos Cultists [Nurgle]), DaBank (Kroot) & the Mordheimer (IG Catachans). Like it is now tradition, our campaign follows the Narrative Battle Reports... with every story affects the Scenarios and post-games results... or is it vice-versa? No matter... expect new threads in the incoming weeks from Dozer, DaBank and myself, and enjoy how each of the players (and their Squads) see the campaigns from their point of view. For now, get your juices flowing with the Epilogue!


Sensory Array 738, Prelude
One of the most eastern systems on the Segmentum Tempestus is the system of Baddur. The largest of all its planets its the Agri-World of Baddur Prime. It is a mystery why was this highly productive Agr-World was spared by the Tyranid Hive Fleet Kraken during the second Tyranid wars, as it would have been a major source of biomass for the Xenos. Instead, it escaped apparently unharmed. After such ordeal, the Imperium's Administratum decided to install an early warning system in several planets near the border with Ultima Segmentum. Such bases would provide a constant vigilant eye on further Tyranid incursions... or so they thought.

Baddur Prime is roughly the size of planet Saturn, but its landmass composes roughly 70% of the planet surface, interrupted by the occasional deep lake or meandering river. Its four oceans are composed of fresh water, not considered lakes because of their vast size. Most of the landscape has been terraformed and used as agricultural lands, with the exception of the two Hive Cities (Alpha and Omega) and scattered farming villages. The planet's weather is mild and stable, perfect for agriculture. The only noticeable area is known ans the Null Void.

The Null Void is located directly under the permanent shadow of the barely inhabited Baddur Prime's only moon, affectionately known as the Green Sea, roughly 4,500 km. The moon is in perfect synchronization with Baddur Prime's axial rotation, so the small planetoid cast a perennial eclipse on the same spot on planet's surface. The moon's core is believed to be composed of highly enriched Unobtainium, but definite proof has not been collected by the Mechanicus as today. It is theorized that the constant bombardment of solar flares to the Green Sea's surface and the constant gravitational forces from Baddur's Prime has created electromagnetic fields engulfing both celestial bodies. As a net result, biological organisms tend grow and mature faster and healthier than normal, and sentient beings endure a sensation of constant well being. For the populace, this translate on healthier and more abundant crops and a more positive outlook of life. The Null Void is completely opposite; the terrain is barren of life and electromagnetic interference inhibits all electronic equipment. Naturally, the natives care little to explore or disturb this area of their otherwise perfect planet.

The Green Sea's terrain is mostly mountainous jungles. Several colonists attempted to make the moon their home, but the lack of major water sources to create irrigation systems made the endeavor non-prosperous. Currently there is only one major city, where the Sensory Array 738 is located, as well as various small settlements composed of descendants of earlier colonists. The Array is managed and operated by local civilian scientists, but regiments of Catachan Jungle Fighters are sent to the base to regroup from major conflicts. High Command is aware of Baddur Prime's properties to 'heal the body and uplift the spirit', so it is seemed as an appropriate way-station for Catachan's Regiments to spend some time re-training and re-grouping before being shipped to their next theater. On the other hand, Catachan Field Commanders hate being sent to the Green Sea; they see this as a major punishment directed to soften the men under their command. Such is the place, that when the local fauna becomes extremely aggressive during their mating season, Catachans are dispatched to eradicate them armed only with their Catachan's Fangs... so to give the beasts a minimal fighting chance.

So it is the time of the Imperial Guard Catachan’s 4573rd Regiment, The Eye Pokers, to be stationed at the Green Sea. The company was reduced to less than 4% of their size, and were sent there to absorb the survivors of the now disbanded 4921th Regiment (The Emperor's Strokers), 3256th (The Grot's Vomits) as well as to receive new recruits from Catachan. Rumors said that once at full strength, they were to be shipped to the Eye of Terror... for some real eye poking! For the meanwhile, they are to continue their boring patrols... praying to the Emperor for some worthy opponent. Careful what you pray for...

Unknown to everyone, Nurgle (the Lord of Pestilence and Disease) has another plans for Baddur and its Sensor Array. Rather than sending armies, which would more likely trigger an alarm for the Astartes, he has already infiltrated and sent his Champions to take over the moon and the Array. The plan is to take over the machinery, and while still sending data to the Imperium (so no suspicious minds get any ideas) reverse the effects of Baddur electromagnetic resonance; they are to create a new Death World, capable of projecting a death-field across several thousand light years. Nurgle wishes to launch the next Black Crusade and any resistance on the Green Sea will not stop him from accomplishing his goals of death and decay.

Attempting to foul Nurgle's plans is Tzeentch, the Lord of Change. Through his agents, contact has been made with the Kroot's homeworld of Pech. Unknown to anyone else, Kroot Mercenaries have been hired to fight everyone of the moon. The Kroot are to eliminate everyone on the moon, take over the array and destroy it. As an added bonus, they have been explained the healing properties of Baddur and the Master Shaper is convinced that acquiring genetic material from this world would allow the Kroot to gain regenerative adaptations which would make them practically immortals. The Mercenaries are focused on taking over the moon, and then the planet itself!

Such are the webs weaved on the galaxy. One of billions of conflicts resolved not by armies, but by unsuspecting individuals pawns of games played by dark gods to destroy the Imperium of Men.

Are the Kroot here for themselves as noted? Could they be working as mercanaries for the higest bidder or working with the Tau?

The KFC squad is coming to the planet on the pretext of destroying the array, but for whom?



I was feeding off your comments, that was my lame attempt at an Intro. LOL.

Well, the idea was that they have been hired (and well paid) by 'someone' to eliminate everyone from the moon colony and destroy the Array. Who exactly? Well, it is open to your devious mind! For sure, the Kroot do not know that who ever hired them are undercover agents of Tzeentch... who just wants to ruin Nurgle's plans! Of course, the Kroot are not stupid... once the 'job' is over, the Master Shaper will send some Warpspheres to take over (invade!) Baddur Prime.

The specifics of the 'hiring' are up to you battle brother. I just planted the seed... you go crazy with it. After all... its just fluff to get your creative juices flowing!

Hmmm.....I do believe I can work with this. Prepare to bow to the almighty power of Nurgle!

I'm not normally this devious.......I swear........

I will be playing Imperial Guard Catachans, members of the 4573rd Catachan Regiment, The Eye Pokers. Here is their introduction... enjoy!


Imperial Guard, Catachans Jungle Fighters (The Eye Pokers) Introduction.
Captain Wilford Lance looked down and was slightly startled by his new bars of rank. His new uniform itched like crazy and the damned cough would not go away. Looking up to the holo-screen with renewed vigor he spoke.

- Sir, permission to speak freely... off the record.

- Very well Captain, permission granted. What's on your mind, son?
replied the three-star General, while his grim demeanor turned slightly softer.

- Why the fuck have we been shipped here? I served under your command at Catachan repelling the latest invasion of the chaos filth, during Medusa V it was the team under your command that I was assigned to who captured the second Death Leaper and finally at Mussel Province the Eye Pokers managed to retain the Green Tide long enough for the pretty boys to take the credit. Not only YOU promoted me to Captain, but awarded me full Administrative Rank! Assigned a new group of men for what? This shit? Not even the fucking Empero...

- Watch you mouth soldier!
interrupted the pious General.

- My apologies. Not even the holy Emperor knows where we are. This place is a dump! We are babysitting civilian egg-heads in a remote moon? FUCK THIS! How is that this shit hole any reward for my efforts? I did not even wanted a promotion in the first place!

- Are you finished, you overgrown baby? Since this conversation is not happening, I will take some of my time to let you on the scoop. That, and because I like you. It is true that the Eye Pokers did a superb job at Mussel... but they got pretty much eradicated. Reduced to a meager 9.8% fighting strength. Usually, this would mean disbanding the Regiment. Instead, we have decided to honor the sacrifice of the men at Mussel and allow reinforcements to beef up your ranks. Remaining men from the 4921th Regiment, The Emperor's Strokers, and from the 3256th, The Grot's Vomit, will be merged with the Eye Pokers. Not only that, but the new-meat from Catachan has been assigned to join you. I guess the Eye Pokers' Regimental survival will ensure that you Grox lickers will stay in for a while.

Why on the moon of Baddur Prime? The obvious reason is that the egg-heads need some babysitting. Least obvious is that the jungle environment will not only help your men to feel more at ease, but will allow the HQ to re-train some of you clowns to dance with two feet on The Green. Only known to a lucky few at HQ... because it is Baddur Prime.

The Captain looked puzzled while the General chuckled.

- Did you had a nasty case of Mussel's flu?

- Uhhh... yes, Sir. I was starting to cry blood. How did you know?

- Speckles. The little traitor did not care much for your threat of spitting on his recaff. Based on medical data, you had less than 20 days before joining The Emperor at his bosom. Yet, you managed to survive 15 days in stasis and 12 days on active duty. I bet my command that not only none of your teeth have fallen out, but that you are well in your way to health.

Lance was shocked. He thought it was pure luck that he was healing.
- You are right Sir. I feel as good as ever. I guess that luck had nothing to do with this. Speaking of luck, Speckles should be thankful to his lucky charm... as this conversation is just a dream I won't have to give him a Catachan Kiss. So... what's the deal?

- Baddur Prime, as well as its moon 'The Green Sea', have some kind of energy that promotes well being. None of this heretical magikal crap cures. It is just that people at that miserable planet tend to be... happier. Troubles seem to be minimized and natural healing tends to go better. The medical personnel can't account for it... we just know it happens. We have been using this location to regroup forces, and give them some time to recover before sending them to a new theater of war. I believe that the construction of the Sensory Array 738 and its protection is nothing but a sham... a hoodwink, so we can gather forces here without the enemy knowing better. The Eye Pokers deserved the best... so they got the best. I take care of my own. Once the men are recovered and the Regiment is back at full strength, you will be shipped to the next assignment.

Then again, you are drunk as a skunk and in your alcoholic delirium you are imagining this conversation.

- Schizophrenia, Sir. I believe that is how Medical-Servitor calls what I have. Making shit up all day.

- Command, as you will learn, is a heavy burden. Hope you carry it well. Time to wake up...

With that, the General unapologetically terminated the transmission. The new Captain looked out the window, and saw the Navy battle-barge Inconsistus going to Warp. The General was now gone, but he was not alone. His Commanding Officer was on the base, as well as his Junior Aids; he would have to learn to deal with the pencil-pushers. Suddenly Sergeant Barrent entered the open communications room. He was a huge man. Some people confused him with an Ogryn, until he started barking orders. He was already a veteran Sergeant when Captain Lance was a raw-recruit. Men under his guidance trusted 'old barrel' implicitly; his insight to the enemy was uncanny. Between his cigar and his heavy chested frame, he could not sneak up to a lamp post but he knew what to do.

- You called, Sir?

- Yes, Sarge... come in. Barrel, how long have we know each other? Six years? No matter... how is that you turned the promotion down?

- Well... Sir. To tell you the truth, I care nothing for the shit-heads of HQ. They issue orders that make no sense... and I rather remain a Sergeant in Administrative Rank, but a 5-star General with my men. Of course... you are not on my shit list, yet. I guess it will be OK to do as you tell me... unless you pull something stupid... then I will just put my Commissar's hat! Problem solved!
Both men grinned... they were both aware of what happened to Commissar Hicks at Medusa V.

- Because of YOU, I'm stuck on the big chair; that makes you an ass hole. Between that and the manner you address me, I should have you court marshaled and executed. Then again, only my second in command should be allowed to do so. What? Don't look at me that way! I'm new to command, and I need someone I can trust by my side. I can trick the raw-meat, but the vets will trust only you. Command is a bitch... enjoy ridding it. That will be all, Lieutenant.

Ohh... by the way. I already filled a formal complaint on your behave with Catachan HQ regarding the Field Promotion, requesting a formal panel in 4 weeks. Too bad you will not be able to make it back on time. Of course, you can always request to be re-scheduled. You are dismissed.

He though the Captain pulled a great move on him. The newly appointed Lieutenant knew that requesting any changes to the complaint would mean an admission of guilt. He was stuck with the promotion. Reaching on his back pocket, he put an old tattered Commissar's hat. Marching out the room, he mumbled loud enough for Lance to hear...

- Let the stupidity begin!

Chapter 1: Rude Awakening
Imperial Guard, Catachan Jungle Fighters (The Eye Pokers) vs Chaos Cultists (Nurgle)

Captain Wilford Lance had deployed with some of the men under his command two days ago deep on the Green Sea's jungle. Nothing like a light stroll on the garden to stretch the legs and help improve his health. He needed to program some activities to further connect with his men, but this was not going to be easy on this environment. Suddenly his daydreaming was interrupted.

- Sir, vid-map shows that there should be an abandoned encampment just ahead. It was composed of one mining facility and five other support structures. Records indicated that the place was abandoned 47 years ago. My guess, is that the Green has swallowed the place. What are we to do?

This was the opportunity that Lance was waiting; a simple land survey exercise would work wonders on team-building skills. Also it would give the men something else to do, breaking the monotony that the Green Sea offered them. He looked at Lieutenant Marsellas; he was a rather tall fellow. Skinny as a twig, but fast on his feet. Like almost everyone on the now disbanded Emperor's Strokers, he was just promoted to his rank. Untested in battle and unknown to everyone under the Captain's command, it was critical that he could stretch his seniority muscles.

- Very well Lieutenant. Since we are already here, let's do the egg-heads a favor. Gather the twins and the rest of the raw meat. I want a complete survey of the area, including a full perimeter analysis and holo-pictures. I will take Lieutenant Barrent and Private First Class George Dush and survey the main building. Once you are finished, meet us there.

After a quick salute, Marsellas barked for attention. The twins stopped at unison, perfectly synchronized. Just like Lt. Marsellas, both of the twins had just been promoted to Sergeants. Unlike him, both men were part of The Eye Pokers since their recruitment to the Imperial Guard and practically everyone know about them. Not only they were solid fighters, but almost identical and very much inseparable. They were both typical Catachans; not too tall but built to last. Physically, both men had features that were carbon copies of the other, with the exception of their skin. Sergeant Pepper has skin as dark as pure ebony, while Sergeant Salt was a Hermansky-Pudlak albino. Young and eager to please, they put the rest of the men on attention. After a short debriefing, the men spread out for the survey.

Captain Lance, Lieutenant Barrent and Private First Class Dush headed to the abandoned town. George had been with The Eye Pokers for some time now. He was big, even for other Ogryns, and while considered by the Imperial Guard High Command a 'genius' among brutes of his kin... everyone though he was dumb as a rock. But the giant was not there to think, but to fight. His trusted Ripper Gun was loud enough to make him grin when fired, and few things made the brute as happy as blowing heretics up.

- Sir, objective building ahead.

- Thanks Barrel. What is wrong with this picture?

Barrent looked puzzled.

- What do you mean, Sir?

- Stop 'siring' me, fatso. It rained two hours ago... here the trees are without leaves and the grass is almost dead dry. Granted we were not here two hours back, but we have been moving at Administratum speed. Something is odd.

The Captain was right; everywhere they looked near the abandoned town seemed dry. The flora was not dead, but it seemed uncharacteristically yellowish, especially when it was considered that just 10 meters back where they stood it was a luscious jungle. With some trepidation, Captain Lance entered the abandoned central warehouse. Part of the roof had collapsed after decades of neglect, and evidence that the jungle had overgrown the place until not too long ago. Barrent moved to the east side of the building, while George stayed on the west.



Out of thin air, the familiar mini-thunder of autogun fire cracked on the air. The shots ricocheted from a nearby wall. They were under attack! The Captain ran outside the building, near the south end, taking cover behind a short wall.

- WE ARE TAKING FIRE! SARGE, USE THE MINI-VOX TO GET EVERYONE HERE! ON THE DOUBLE!

Lt Barrent ran towards the location of his Captain and screamed at the Ogryn to met them there. While behind a wall, he pointed at his rank bars.

- Told you it was stupid to promote me. Under regulation Omega-5821, I have been demoted!

- Unless I get shot... and that will never happen.
Lanced tried to move to get a better view of the new enemy, just to be shot on the upper chest. He dropped like a rock. Barrent knew that he just got re-promoted. Pressing on his neck-phone, he communicated with urgency.

- MAGGOTS! The Captain is down... someone has just shot at him. Probably an assassin... and unless Speckles gets his ass over here, they may have succeeded. Everyone, stop pussy-footing, get your pea-shooters and provide cover fire. We MUST take the Captain out. Unknown make and number of assailants, currently on the norther end of the main building. GEORGE, COVER THE CAPTAIN!

Barrent tried to get a pulse on the Captain. He was bleeding profusely, already turning white. He was in charge now. George moved in closer and with a blank expression.

- Dammit you Ox! Attack with that gun of yours!

Hearing that, George snapped off and threw the gun at the approaching enemy. A loud crack clearly resonated on the Lieutenant's ears.

- Remind me to kill you once we get out of here. Go in and crack some skulls... I DON'T CARE IF IT IS A DEMON PRINCE. STOP 'EM! GO!

Barrent peeked to see the enemy. Humans, in ragged uniforms bearing no markings of allegiance. Then he smelled him... then he saw him. Behind everyone else, he stood as big as an Astartes, but his armor fancied the Mark of Nurgle. Chaos! He needed the reinforcements now.

- Where the hell are you! We need cover fire NOW! Speckles, I swear that if you don't get here now I will make you eat your cigar lighter.

George screamed a war cry and moved forward to assault an unsuspecting man. With a body tackle the man was knocked down on his ass. He quickly stood up and engaged the Ogryn in battle, as if possessed by Khorn himself. His actions were not missed by his allies; the Champion of the Lord of Decayed ordered his men to fire at will at the two combatants. No good deed goes unpunished. The first Officer shot his own man down; that would teach him to hesitate. The other Officer shot George, seriously injuring him. The Lieutenant could see the reinforcements arriving south of their position, so he ventured to shot at the enemy. He rapid fired his autogun, missing his mark. The enemy was indeed luckier, shooting Barrent making him fall unconscious behind a wall, close to the Captain's body. From the north, Private Burnt Wood attempted to sneaked up with his trusted Flame Thrower. He was shot on the head directly on the head, his Flamer bursting in flames that consumed the body. The aroma of burned flesh mixed with the stench of the Heretical Marine. To him, it smelled like victory.

The enemy moved closer; two men were to assault George. A three to one ratio... even the Ogryn understood the odds. He was infuriated and remembered why he was there; to crack skulls. As the two men got closer, George picked one from his face. Lifting him up several feet of the floor, he made his face meet the rockrette ground in great haste. Only the man's legs twitched. He followed with a kick to the other man's torso, which broke several ribs dropping the man to the floor. A single Bolter shot cracked the air; it sound seemed to stop time. George just could see the Plague Marine on a second floor balcony, pointing the smoking weapon at him, before his eyes closed.


The situation was desperate; The Eye Pokers were out manned and outgunned. Reinforcements managed to arrive to the building, taking entrenching positions and started firing at the enemy. The exchange of fire was brutal. The Eye Pokers though they had contained the enemy at bay, when they saw one of them pull a Flame Thrower. Unceremoniously he pointed the weapon at the Captain location and pulled the trigger. A conglomerate of volatile napalm paste flew on the direction of his primary target, first burning George and two Infantrymen. Lt Barrent just recovered consciousness, and in a desperate attempt to save Captain Lance, he threw his body over his commanding Officer. While the secondary target managed to miraculously escape major damage from the infernal attack, the primary target was not so lucky... it received the attack full force. The heroics of the Lieutenant saved the Captain's life, but it came at a horrendous price. Part of his right leg was exposed outside the cover of the collapsed wall, and his foot was severely burned.


Lieutenant Marsellas appeared from the north, and started to press fire to the exposed enemy flank. It was a small diversion, but it allowed plenty of time for George to crawl out behind the intense firewall, pick up Captain Lance and moved him out of the area. The Decomposing Heretical Champion saw as the Guardsmen fled the scene. He ordered his men to stand their ground. His objective was achieved; no point on terminating the game so early. There was much Chaos to spread.

After some time, Jack "Speckles" Kevorkian could tend to the injured Officers. After brave attempts of the Field Medic to control his mouth-to-mouth rhythms, Captain Lance went flat-line. His dead was clear to everyone around him. Continuous use of the portal defibrillator as an enema jolted the Captain back from the dead. Lieutenant Barrent was not so lucky; his right foot was incredibly damaged. No amount of field medical assistance can help. They needed to return to base, so a Apothecary-Servitors tend to the injury and save the foot. It was clear that Old Barrel was not going to sprint any longer.



Defeat for The Eye Pokers!

Awesome first game! Continuing with a time honored tradition, we rolled everything randomly! The Scenario was Surprise Attack, and besides minor wording adjustments it was a GREAT challenge! Starting with 3 models was scary, but I had only to 'stay alive' until reinforcements arrived. Having Dozer shot my Captain (the only model he could see) on Turn 2 and get him OOA was inspiring... for him! HA! The best part was seeing his face of 'I feel so bad I killed your Leader!' No prob Bro! All in war!

The bulk of my reinforcements came in Turn 2, but I deployed them in the wrong place... I should had put them behind the Chaos Cultists and sandwiched them in! Idiot! DaBank just rolled his eyes at me. Sorry! George was the MVP of the game... even when I 'cheated' with the 4 attacks thing. Sorry guys! I copied the info wrong. I will make sure not to cheat until Game 3 for the next campaign.

Dozer's Chaos Cultists have the Mark of Nurgle... OUCH! That T4 and T5 versus autoguns is a pain in the butt! Definitely I have to get some better weapons... and Hot Packs! Defeating this guys is a challenge indeed!

Even with a loss, it was a great game! We both were on rout, so it could had gone either way. I'm glad I loss, because I made bad tactical decisions. I blame the lack of playing on the last 6 months... but I have never been the best tactician! Looking forward to fight again!

Before that... I should get painting the models.

Great Story and Great pics.

Nice one! I especially love the flame thrower pic. I will most definitly not forget my camera next week. And since you and dabank are playing there will be an abundance of pictures for you guys!

You might have a hard time taking pics of the KFC as they move so fast they are almost unseen.

Did you hear what the Kroot Shaper said to the Imperial Priest?
Be careful what you "PREY" for.

Not how I think of catachans but still THAT WAS FRIGGIN FUNNY! Eye Pokers is well aslo funny but I gotta say that I would have never called them that. I would hafe thought of Hellbers Hellbringers, Flyn's Firewalkers or somethin' down that line.
Anyway good luck.

dwi

Glad you liked it.

I agree with you on the name... it is not a 'serious' or 'cool' name. The reason? Well, after each Regiment is formed they give them a number and a powerful name. Each regiment is composed of tens of thousands of men. The story is about 4573rd Catachan Regiment. The joke is that by now, they have ran out of the cool names. They are also tied by Regimental name with the Special Character, Leon.

Rather than being a bunch of silent-type brutes, which makes for minimal writing, I decided to portray the Officers as the newbies they are. To me, this is the very beginning of THEIR story. The fact that they got their asses whipped on their first battle (and that they did not behaved like Catachans!) shows their inexperience. As time goes by, and the Officers gain experience and skills, you will see Captain Lance become more aggressive and confident.

Anyway... its all in good fun!

Note: Remember to click on the LINKS for full enjoyment!

Chapter 1.5: Alone in the Dark
Imperial Guard, Catachan Jungle Fighters (The Eye Pokers); Pre-Game

The march to Outpost XXXII was brutal. The seemingly benign jungle terrain of the last two days seemed to have turned as hostile as Catachan itself. Captain Lance's chest burn constantly from the wound, and his cough started acting up. Lieutenant Barrent had to be sedated and carried by stretcher; Speckles had to made a field amputation as the infection and gangrene was settling at an alarming rate. The men were flooded with a paranoid delusions of being pursued by their assailants and seeing their commanding officers almost dead did not helped their spirits.

Besides the forced marched, it took almost 3 days to return to the the main outpost. The placed seemed deserted; The Eye Pokers were supposed to be on location, receiving reinforcements. There were almost a thousands men were on base when Captain Lance took his Squad for patrol. Now, the outpost was practically deserted. There was no sign of struggle, and the civilian guards on the main gate did not seemed distressed. Something was going on.

- Hey you! Where are The Eye Pokers? Where is everyone?

- Uhhh... I guess you are it General. Everyone is gone to planetside... you know, for the 'Be Well' celebrations. I hear on the commercial vox-caster that the Prime Minister made a big fuss about celebrating with parades and stuff. Well, at least until the damned thing broke. Only thing I get is static now.

Lance signal everyone to rush in. He sent Lieutenant Marsellas and few men to take Barrel to see the Apothecary-Servitors. He and the twins were to see the Communications Station. Upon entering to the medical facility they were greated by an older woman.

- I'm Doctor Pruth... what seems to be the pro... OHHH.... By the Emperor! When you soldier boys stop this nonsense! Quick, move it to the stretcher. Bingo, Bango... on the double!

Two Apothecary-Servitors, that had seemed better days, moved closer to Barrel. They started scanning the wound, and paper started to spill from their mouths.

- Nothing I can do. As a matter of fact, I still have to amputate farther up the leg. I have no Bionic Replacements... just an old prosthetic. I can have one ordered for you, and it could be here in couple of days. Hmmm.. odd... I can't see to connect to the Administratum di Salud office to complete the order. I guess the prosthetic is due. Leave your buddy here... he should be fine in a week or so.

Meanwhile, Captain Lance arrived to the Communications Station. The place was no bigger than a closet; he had seen field commands bigger than this place. On one single desk laid an old military grade vox-caster. A young blond man sat with his blue eyes wide open.

- Name, designation and rank soldier.

- James Podd... no soldier. I'm a Systems Eng...

- Shut up! What kind of gay name is James? I bet you they call you Jamie Fancy Pants! You are almost worthless. The idiot at the main gate said everyone is gone? Who gave the order?

- Ahhh... don't get your panties on a knot, man!

The sudden gleam of the twins holding a pair of Catachan Fangs, made the young man reconsider his words.

- Be VERY careful... your next words would probably be your last ones. Again... WHO GAVE THE ORDER?

- General what-his-name... I don't know! You people all look like baby Ogryns to me! I know we got a request from Prime Minister Damien Molakai himself to have the Guardsmen as guests of honor at Prime. They left two days ago... no word from them, but we are not expecting any.

- Listen to me very carefully. How many Guardsmen are still on this forsaken place?

- I don't know... no more than 20. That is not counting you and whoever you brought to the party.

- Can we still go to the planet?

- Nope. There are no shuttles and the next supply transport is not due for 27 days. But not to worry Sarge, we can still see the parades on the holo-vision.

Captain Lance knew this was a trap. Based on descriptions, the assailants at the mining outposts were heretics. Now somehow they have gotten rid of a complete Regiment of his brethren. He knew the strategic importance of this place and he was stuck in the middle of a huge attack from the filthy heretic. Picking up the mega-vox, Captain Lance spoke to the compound.

- OK... This is Captain Wilford Lance and I'm assuming total command of this hell hole. From now on, until further notice, Outpost XXXII has become a military facility. No civilian transmission are to be broadcast and we are under Marshal Law. All military personnel is to report to the main hangar immediately. Lance, out.

He put the mega-vox down, and turned to the twins.

- Sergeant Salt, Sargent Pepper. Go to the Depot and requisition EVERYTHING you can find. We need to move from this pop-guns to some real weapons... lasguns! I want everyone issues full Carapace Armor, Combat Helmet, a Lasgun and 5 Hot Packs. Get with Lieutenant Marsellas and have him organize real guards for the gate and I want a 1 kilometer perimeter buffer zone.

The young vox-operator was terrified. Looking at him the Captain Lance said,

- You are one of us now, Fancy Pants. Welcome to hell, Jamie... welcome to hell.




HA! I could not resist! jd3 joins us back from a long leave (stupid real life!) He will be testing Chaos Cultists, Tzseench... unless he changes his mind. Anyway... Welcome back Jamie!

Did I mention that the ill fated regiment that departed Outpost XXXII met with an unfortuante warp storm incident which propelled them into the eye of terror where they are now enslaved as life-size dress up dolls gifted by Abbadon himself to his neice?

Terrible fate, just terrible.

I'm glad to be back and amd looking forward to playing next week!

LOL! Abbadon's niece... LOL! You cracked me up man!

Ah well I can tell you have no tactical skill. Geting the Cap in to the fray is not some thing I would do untill I have some armour on him, my Caps have power swords but still. Anyway well done! It could have been bader than it was

Oh and two pukes to you DoZer

dwi