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[mike_]

[News Opening ]This is Astrum Galactic News bringing you the latest in galactic news.

[Anchor Begins] Our current story is that Coalition siege of Ortan-controlled Turan, former homeworld to the now-extinct race of identical name.

The Confederacy of Hal-El Space Forces and Astrum Imperial Military have broken through the Ortan Horde two weeks ago ending the month-long siege of the Turan, bringing direct invasion of its surface a firm possibility.

We now go to a data-clip sent to us by our fleet attaché Julia Galvons

[Data clip starts]

Hello there, folks at home. I’m Julia Galvons reporting for AGN. I'm out here on the front lines, following the Coalition-Ortan War, Turan Reclamation Campaign.

We are here in orbit the former capital planet of Turan, which is the last remaining stronghold of the Ortan Horde. I cannot begin to describe the level of destruction that we are seeing. [Camera switches to external view and pans across upper-atmospheric debris field before switching back to Julia] The fighting between the Ortan hordes and Confederate/Astrum Forces for the past month has seen massive casualties on both sides but most of the debris here in orbit is from the altogether inferior Ortan fleet. The main reason for the losses of Coalition numbers are due to the sheer volume of fighting-craft amassed here to defend their foothold in the galaxy.

Three days ago Coaltion Forces broke through the Ortan defenses in key hardpoints and began the deployment of ground forces, beginning with the orbital incursion forces of both factions. While their space technology is not something to keep you awake at night, as most of our viewers know the Ortan excel at ground combat and the forces they have assembled here will provide a great challenge for the Coalition ground troops to overcome.

This is all the information that Coalition Command will allow us to report at this time, but we will continue to send you updates as the situation allows.

This is Julia Galvons signing out for Astrum Galactic News, thank you and good evening.

[Data clip ends, Anchor resumes]

That is all that we have received from Julia so far and we will share any new information on the Campaign as soon as we get it.

The five-year ongoing Coalition War with the Ortan Horde started with the unprovoked Ortan invasion of several Confederate and Astrum frontier worlds, with the Confederate and Astrum governments forging a temporary Coalition following up with a massive pushing-back of the Ortan in the Helena and Sabine Campaigns. With the goal to take back Ortan-controlled Turan and end of the war finally nearing sight, we can only speculate on the long-term repercussions of this long and bloody War.
On a further note, as most of our views know the Ortan are a hardy warrior race that believes through conflict they become 'closer to their gods', so the ultimate goal of all Ortan is to contribute in some way no matter how small the conflict. The only way to end this War is to eliminate every Ortan planet and shipside.

[Anchor Ends] We will continue to keep you apprised of the situation and tell you any information that we receive. So until next time…

[News Closing] This is AGN bringing you the latest in galactic news, stay tuned for updates.

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Aboard the HMS Flags Flying...

Navigation Officer Hickory 'Remme' Sellers wiped a growing bead of sweat from his forehead before it could slide down his nose and drip onto the monitor. He was seated in the angular Control Room along with the seven other Officers. Their workstations were organized in a 'U' around the Captain's chair, so that the commanding Officer could keep an eye on them all without having to turn around. The man in question, Captain Picard, was gazing with hawklike intent towards the forward-facing viewscreen. No sweat shown on the older man's pale, shaven scalp.

They'd managed to completely repulse the Ortan attempts at boarding actions while simultaneously blowing their birds out of the sky. The crude Ortan fighters and larger vessels (which were so random in size and construct that they had never been classified in traditional naval terms) were no real match for the outnumbered but significantly more professional Confederate and Astrum pilots. In the present the last few suicide ships were being driven off and landing preparations underway.

Nav Officer Sellers bowed his head in unconscious prayer for those poor souls about to get dirt in their boots.

---

Meanwhile, Sergeant Major Harley Muldoon was prepping his men for the hot landing. He strode down the long catwalk between the rows of HAIs (High-Altitude-Insertion pods), passing crewmen and Marines giving him a wide berth. Muldoon stopped at the intersection made by the four aisles' meeting, took in a breath, and called out, 'Uh-ten-sion!'. Every Marine on deck stopped in his tracks and fell into rough order. The four platoons' worth, one-hundred twenty men in total, waited orders. Muldoon looked them over with a practiced eye. Not one Marine retained the baby fat so associated with young men, and not a one of them had a look of worry on their face. Except in their eyes. There, though, the Sergeant Major didn't care to look.

He then cut the tense silence not with a knife but a claymore, 'Once again, it is our job to finish what the flyboys started. We are leaving this ship's relative protection, and engaging the Ortan bastards on solid ground. When we meet the enemy, you will rip their skulls from their spines, and toss 'em away, laughin'! Am I right, Marines?'

'Sir yes sir!' Came his answer.

Muldoon smiled grimly, then shouted again, 'Alright then ladies! Grab year gear and strap in. Y'know where to go - I'll be damned again if you don't!'

The Marines laughed and scrambled to their individual HAIs. Muldoon continued down the catwalk in the midst of the concourse, and opened up the Company's COM unit. 'Men, here is where we show those buck-toothed, knot-topped sons of bitches that they could not have picked a worse enemy than the Confederacy of Hell. We are going to blow the hell out of those dumb pigs until we don't have anything left to shoot 'em with! And then, we are going to strangle them with their own living guts! Am I right, Marines?'

They knew better than to stop the loading and answer him.

He continued as more Marines loaded up and awaited the drop. 'These block-headed greenskins think they've got the victory; that they can just cut us up like a Thanksgivin' turkey! They think that we're just gonna hand ourselves over to 'em all nice-like tied up in ribbons with a big pretty bow up-top. But no. What they will get - what they're damned well GONNA GET - is a belly-full of lead, and a puddle of their own blood to drown in!'

A chorus of cheers, dulled by the heat-shields on the HAIs answered him. The Sergeant Major strode over to his own HAI when he realized he was the last man on deck.

Sealing it shut behind him, he sat down in his allocated pod and secured first himself, then his gear. Reaching down inside his shirt, he brought out a small bronze crucifix and kissed it. It was time. He hit the green 'ready' button on the control panel and everything went silent.

Then they dropped.


((OOC: Alright, the Prologue's started. Your turn, Drak. Any others besides us two - feel free to post as the occupying Ortan forces (think 40K Orks, but more intelligent and tech-savvy). Don't post as your factions, unless you want to have a military attaché representing your faction's interests in the campaign. Please no godmodding, though.))

[Drakconus]

((OCC: I see that you used the news report like we discussed mike_ Okay give me a few days to thing of somthing to follow what you put up, I think that this should be Fleet Admiral Drivdus's and Ensign Cratovus Maltan's debute.))

((SWGedit: ah, yeah drak, good to know you mentioned the news report thing, i completely forgot, and i had planned to tell them about that.))

Edited by some_weirdGuy, 19 April 2009 - 08:09 AM.

[Vortigern]

Elthik Vessika Ortan aimed his turret skywards and let off a short burst of fire, the luminous green globules of anti-matter rising upwards at extreme speeds. The humans were preparing to land, and he would be damned if he let them set foot on his part of the planet. The gods would reward his diligence when the time came.

Words flashed across the screen before him: Asha'ak venmoru ten alli Konfederatis empuki. Confederate forces are to be destroyed on sight. Vessika let out the Ortani equivalent of a contemptful sigh, his nostrils flaring and sucking in a powerful blast of oxygen, eyes rolling back into his head for a moment. As soon as that moment passed, his eyes were back on the skyline, preying on the falling drop-pods of the humans.

A shot of his connected with a pod, the bizarre substance released by the guns sizzling through the metal of the pods, leaving a body-sized hole in the side of it. He glimpsed a body come tumbling out of the hole, rapidly followed by another. Elthik shav asha'koi Humani, he thought. I'm going to get you, humans.



((Just thought I'd drop by for a moment. You did invite us, after all. Anyone else, feel free to pick this up.))

[{IRS}Athos]

((OOC: What are Orks? Like orcs, or something? If they're at all religious, I might have a few Order members in their army. ))

[mike_]

((OOC: The Ortan are basically like 40K Orks, but more intelligent. I'll introduce more things for them... later. So look them up you lazy bum ))

[Drakconus]

Ensign Cratovus Maltan of the Astrum Ground Service liked the HAI Marines more than he liked other Confed personnel, at least they didn’t whine about the enemy being ‘too dug in for attack’ or ‘There’s too many of them, we’re all going to die!’


*Though that hadn’t seemed to help these guys* he thought to himself with a grimace as he looked at what little remained of a HAI platoon after the full charge of a Ortan Blood Drinkers unit, very few things short of a tank squad could survive an attack by Blood Drinkers.


Not even his toon was unscathed after the fight, of the 20 Hostile Environment Shock Troopers that he began with only 11 were ‘combat capable’ *he thought while cleaning the violet blood off his sword*


"Commander, we’ve got survivors over here" called one of Crats men.


"Load them up in Med-Bags and prepare them for evac and as soon as thats done I want everyone to move out now while Sarge and I leave a few ‘surprises’ for our over-sized friends." ordered Crats


"Dam fools, if they had waited for us before leaving the staging area then there would be more of them left alive… so sure of themselves, didn't need any help" muttered Sergeant Glav Martine as he worked at setting traps to cover their retreat "…dam dead fools."


"I know Sarge, I know" said Crats giving sarge a gentle punch to the shoulder *This has been a long day and is looking to be a longer night…* thought Crats as he strung one if the 'suprises' *Very long night.*

Edited by Drakconus, 01 May 2009 - 12:39 AM.

[mike_]

Muldoon brought the butt of his rifle up in a swift crack, the impact of shaped Confederate steel and Ortan skull jarring his entire body and making blisters erupt in his hands. The green-skinned, vaguely pig-like being, an eight-foot tall monster, crumpled down in a lifeless pile of limbs.

The Sergeant Major didn't have time to reload his dry weapon - so he went with the next best thing. Reaching over his shoulder, the seasoned Marine officer gripped the custom weapon strapped to his back and pulled it free of the elephantine sheath.

Clicking it into gear, the chainmore whee'd to life, the high-pitched buzz generated by its three serrated chain-lengths roaring like a lion gone soprano.

Charging headlong with the four-foot long chainsaw/claymore held high above his head, Muldoon went to work. A massive Ortan brute saw his challenge and raised it high, leveling a massive cleaver in each hand. A brutal necklace of trophies - severed human heads and hands, bloodily strung on a length of barbed wire - bounced on its snot-coloured chest. Frothing around the massive pair of tusks jutting primitively from its lower jaw, the Ortan howled a battlecry. Its ceremonial topknot, dyed red with human blood in places, bounced recklessly.

Muldoon swung the chainmore in a horizontal slash; steel met flesh and a very messy explosion of black, steaming blood and Ortan flesh erupted from the wound. Muldoon didn't let up; he continued through with the blow, the Ortan champion screaming in agony and bloodlust.

The chainmore soared out of the Ortan's abdomen - the side opposing its entry - in a cloud of sticky viscera.

The Sergeant Major moved on to his next victim, the chainmore crying out for more blood.

[Drakconus]

Onboard the Astrum Imperial Command Ship Domarian one of the Fleet Admirals many aids approached his cabin and knocked on the hatch.

“Come in.”

The Aid opens the hatch walks over to the Fleet Admiral, who was sitting at his desk

“Sir, we have received transmission from the surface.”

“Well, what does it say?” asks the Fleet Admiral with a sigh

“Our units in area 664 are requesting a Colossus drop, Sir”

“hmm… pull up the intelligence we have on that area.”

“Yes Sir, right away.”

“It looks like preliminary intelligence was dead-on for the number and placement of enemy troops in sector 37, but it appears that some Alliance units became overzealous and advanced without support which in turn opened a hole in our line that the Ortan have used to push to the sector 37 staging area.”

“What units do we have on the ground?”

“We have one mechanized company plus a HEST toon, they are working with 3 platoons of Confed HAI Troopers and 4 companies of Confed Regulars, Sir”

“Who requested the drop?”

“The HEST unit commander, Sir”

“And who is in charge of the HEST unit?”

“One, Ensign Cratovus Maltan, Sir”

“A Maltan then…request for Colossus drop approved. Drop within the hour.”

“Yes Sir, moving into position and commencing drop within the hour.”

*I just hope that Maltan knows what he is doing…* the admiral thought with a smile

-------------------
(10 minutes from drop)

"Admiral We're receiving a priority message from command, for your eyes only." announed one of the fleet admirals aids

"Put it on my screen" orderd the admiral

after glancing at the document quickly the admiral reads it again closer after which he announces "Get me Ensign Maltan and all other ground commanders on the horn"

"Yes Sir."
looking a way from his screen Fleet Admiral Drivdus shakes his head lost in thought.

Edited by Drakconus, 12 July 2009 - 03:32 AM.

[Drakconus]

"Alright orders understood" said Ensign Maltan in a calm voice that belied his rage.

"Alright men we've got marching orders, all units are to imediately report back to the staging area while the fleet provides cover fire and await transport off world. A picket fleet will be left to hold the planet while negoiations are held to bring this world into the empire." said Maltan as he passed their orders from command on to his men.

"What In the Hell Do you Mean We're Pulling Out" yelled one soldier with many others shouting their agreements "We've just spend the better part of a year beating the sh*@ out of these pig faced freaks" stated the soldier emphasizing his Blak-Maile; blasted, torn and coverd in blood and gore from months of fighting. "You just want us to leave after all that? After all of our friends we sent home in body bags?" said the soldier his voice getting quieter with everyword.

"ENOUGH!!" bellowed Sergeant Martine "THESE ARE YOUR ORDERS AND YOU WILL FOLLOW THEM UNDERSTAND" his loud voice reaching above the complaints of the men "Now get your a*&'# in gear prepare to move out in 30!" finished the vetran sergent before turning his back on them and stalking over to his kit and getting it ready.

while the men were preping to move out Maltan walked over to his comm operator and orderd "Get in contact with the Confed Marine unit on our flank and inform their commander Sergeant Major Muldoon that his superiors have ordered the same."

"Yes Sir" answered the comm operator.

"Dam... what could have caused this?" spoke Maltan quitely to himself as him men got ready to what appered to be, for all intents and puropose, a full retreat.