Looks like it was a great day, I'm feeling quite sad that i missed it
Yakday Peterborough 2017
- Thread starter CaptainDangerous
- Start date
Keep an eye out for the next yakday thread? The more the merrier 
There will be able notifications here, social media and by email for the next one.
I'm so sorry that i wasnt there. I look atthe pics See the amazing Gangs, the perfect terrain, read the Reports and it Sounds like a perfect weekend.
I really wanted to Be there.
@CaptainDangerous: many Thanks for your Kind words. I am really happy that i could help you a little Bit. You made a great work for the yakday!
I really wanted to Be there.
@CaptainDangerous: many Thanks for your Kind words. I am really happy that i could help you a little Bit. You made a great work for the yakday!
Posting here as well in case folks aren't keeping up with the main announcement thread. T-Shirts celebrating TribeMeet 2017 are available for a limited time, with a discount for the store opening available until the 18th.
Details here.
Details here.
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I followed both this and the London gig with interest. Sadly I couldn't attend do to work, but I'm definitely planning on attending the next one.
Congrats to all who attended, and especially all those who organised, it's been a fantastic read.
Congrats to all who attended, and especially all those who organised, it's been a fantastic read.
CaptainDangerous
Officer, without number, head turner, troll burner
Staff member
Yak Comp 3rd Place
Tribe Council
First post updated, let me know if I have missed anything, or if there is anything else you would like to see there.
And.....
And.....
Here is that same photo as seen through Danger visiontm........Thank you so much everyone!
Winning anything at yakday was the last thing on my mind when I hoped to attend.(which was evident with the performance of my pitslaves
I can assure you the prize will be used to make something special for future tribe meets. It was a pleasure to spend sometime in the hive with all you guys.
Watch out for @Yaksam lifting this trophy in the not to distant future. I wish I was as good as him when I was that age, mad skills!
Everyone's minis look stunning and it's a real honour to been voted for amongst this crowd.
Im just sad I couldn't be at the awards ceremony to have my picture taken with that lovely trophy(no doubt inspired by the inspirational tribe legend @ClockworkOrange) so instead here's a treasured picture of me with
The man!
The legend!
The Captain!
Hope you don't mind Cap.
Thanks
Final Sonjas Slicers fluff... this time!
Captain Arctus carefully entered the code into the warehouse door. The beeps sounded thunderous after the slow and silent approach he and the remaining 11 security officers had made. After just three days even the greenest of them was a hardened fighter - the zombies had made sure any that weren't were no longer with them.
Arctus himself was feeling like a young Sergeant again, the thrill of armed combat sharpening his flagging skills and senses. His bionic leg and arm had not worked so well in years, the constant hard toil bedding them in like they had never been before.
The door unlocked with a thunk of magnets disengaging. Something inside this nondescript warehouse was terribly important to the Mayor. Arctus had a low opinion of the man - his orders had indirectly helped the zombie horde take over the dome - always a danger when someone of no military experience ended up in charge of what should be a Guard matter. Consequently Arctus had found himself and his 30 officers on the wrong side of the dome pointlessly guarding servitor parts when the cack hit the recirculator. They might have done some good had they been in a central location, as it was they ended up bottled up when all hell broke loose and when the zombies emerged they couldn't do anything meaningful to contain them.
Their final orders had been to get the contents of this warehouse out of the dome. That had been three days ago and they hadn't heard anything since.
He nodded at Styles and Evelyn directly behind him. He couldn't be sure how he knew which was which - they were wearing identical armour - black and severe - their helmets and filters hiding their faces completely, the dull green glow of their visors obscuring their eyes. He put it down to his years of Imperial Guard service.
Without word, Styles swung the heavy door open, light spilling into the abandoned street. Evelyn raised her hotshot lasgun and swept in to the left as Arctus raised his laspistiol and swept right. They continued into the small anteroom and with a click into his communicator the others deftly swept in behind him. He was pleased to see the last two - Hallam and Vertes - turn to guard the door without prompting.
There was no sign of trouble here, the lights were on and everything seemed to be in place. There was a large window looking into the warehouse proper, but the lights were off out there and the glass was so filthy he couldn't make anything out. The connecting door was just a cheap clapboard one, and was unlocked to boot. He made his way through, laspistol still held high. His helmet visor automatically highlighted shapes in the darkness - boxes, pillars for a walkway above, cabling on the walls. The cabling led to a junction box on the wall beside the main roller door. Probably light controls there too.
Arctus carefully made his way through, followed by four of the others spread out. They were still keeping quiet, just in case.
He made it to the junction box without issue, and located a bank of light switches - he whispered "lights coming up" into his comm, and flicked half of the switches. The old halogen tubes pinged and clicked as they flickered to life, playing havoc with the visor sensitivity and his night vision. A few seconds later, most had settled - one in the far corner was still flickering away.
He surveyed the warehouse properly for the first time. There were boxes piled everywhere - all sorts of goods. Knockoff food prep units, cheap flat-pack furniture, hair removal cream - the mayor had been making a tidy bit on the side trading miscellaneous tat. None of it was prepped to move - he'd been told the goods would be ready to shift. His eye was drawn to a hulking great tarpaulin covered block in front of the roller door - part of the tarpaulin was folded up at the back, revealing the unmistakable shape of a lowered Chimera rear door. Now that is just the thing to have in a zombie attack, he thought to himself, starting to feel a little better about this mission.
Evelyn was looking in to the rear of the armoured personnel carrier. Her voice came in clearly over his comm - "It's wildsnake. Cases and cases of Balvenie wildsnake. Must be thousands of credits worth."
Her voice faded as she removed her helmet to survey the stack that filled most of the passenger compartment with her own eyes.
With the help of three others, Arctus pulled the tarp from the vehicle. It was a Chimera alright. Battered and repaired in a few places, but otherwise sound. It was painted in a brown and tan desert camouflage - probably from its last campaign with the Guard. It wouldn't exactly blend in in the hive.
The multilaser was present, as were the rows of hull mounted lasguns. Unfortunately the controls for the lasguns were blocked by the sheer mass of whisky boxes in the load area. He also noted with dismay that there would be no room for his officers inside - beyond a driver, gunner and commander, everyone else would need to walk or ride exposed on the back.
The other officers were wandering through the warehouse, surveying the assorted goods. A clatter of a box falling caught their attention, and a man in oil stained green overalls and a tank driver's helmet staggered out from behind a pile of cases of desk fans. "It must be the driver" Evelyn announced, walking over to him and extending her hand. She wasn't wearing her helmet. She couldn't see what Arctus's and a few of the others registered after a second... no heartbeat. They cried out in union, Evelyn looking to Arctus with surprise on her face... but it was too late - with a guttural snarl the ex-tank driver leapt and sank his teeth into her neck. A lightning fast hotshot lasbolt from Chriton blasted its right arm from its shoulder, but didn't stop it. Evelyn gurgled a scream as they both fell to the ground.
It sat up, tearing a mouthful of flesh from Evelyn's throat, and howled at the top of its lungs before Arctus put two laspistol shots into its back and one into its head. It went rigid and fell to the side with a thud.
Evelyn lay wheezing and gurgling, a tear rolled down her cheek as Arctus approached and aimed the pistol between her eyes. She'd been a good, reliable sector security officer, and had done her duty without question. She looked down the muzzle of his laspistol, closed here eyes, and nodded.
The shot echoed round the warehouse for a few seconds as everyone stood in silent shock.
"The area is compromised" Arctus stated coolly, "Get that tank running, now."
*********
Sonja crept to the edge of the rooftop on her hands and knees, and peered over the edge beside Anita.
"They're all over the fracking place..." she whispered, exasperated. It had been a day since the shooting finally died down. The first scouts out of the hideout had returned swiftly, panicked.
Sonja hadn't believed them until she'd seen it herself. Now she was regretting coming to this damned dome altogether. They should have stayed in Choke Town and taken out that damned corrupt Guilder instead. Now they were trapped near the centre of the dome, which was teeming with zombies. Several buildings were burning, filling the air with an acrid haze. They couldn't see far even from their high vantage point atop a water tower, but they could see hundreds - or thousands - of undead ambling aimlessly around the streets.
Anita was looking through the telescopic sight of her lasgun. She nudged Sonja in the shoulder and pointed over the edge to a hab unit one street over. A first floor window had just opened and a man armed with a heavy stubber was standing there. She could just make out others congregating on the lower floors.
"Get ready everyone, someone's going to try and make a break for it." They clambered down the after tower ladders and, just before reaching the bottom, heard the chatter of stubber fire begin. As if as one, the zombies in the street perked up and turned to face the sound, before charging towards it, shrieking.
After only a few seconds all of the zombies in the immediate vicinity had gone. As one, the Slicers dashed across the wide street, heading for the nearest dome wall and, hopefully, a way out.
*********
The Chimera roared to life in a cloud of blue prometheum fog so dense some of it made it past Arctus' filter system. Luckily they were easy enough to drive, sharing a control scheme with most Imperial tracked machines. The engine roared as Styles gunned it to get the oil and coolant flowing properly.
This was going to attract an awful lot of attention.
Arctus stood by the roller door and turned off the warehouse lights - may as well not make it a light show too. The remaining officers clambered onto the vehicle - it was a tight squeeze up there. With Styles drivingm, Chriton manning the multilaser controls and Hallam in the heavy bolter position - now a little crestfallen as it transpired it had no ammunition - the only other space inside was the commander's seat, which had been left vacant for Arctus without any hint needed from him. That left six crowded on the upper doors at the back and perched precariously on the track guards. He hoped Styles would drive it smoothly.
He threw the switch, and with a tortured squeal of metal the roller door started creeping ever so slowly upwards upwards. Dashing to the rear of the tank, Vertes gave him a hand up and he quickly hopped into the turret seat, staying up with the hatch open. It wouldn't do to hide inside the sealed up tank whilst his men rode outside.
As the door rose, he could see movement outside. Between engine roars he heard a howl of rage. He turned to look over the officers behind them. Indicators were glowing green on the lasguns - he thanked the Emperor that when they'd cracked open the never-issued security service weapons crates they'd discovered they were all hotshot lasguns hardwired directly into large backpack power units, which also contained cooling systems for the guns, armour and integrated comm units. Some dishonesty had taken place in the past on top of whatever administrative frack-up had resulted in military grade hardware ending up in a sector security armoury, as they were on record as having 100 of such armour and weapon sets, yet the apparenlty long-sealed store contained only twenty three. The dome had gone all to hell before whoever had been selling them on the sly - his money was on the mayor - had been able to flog the lot. He was particularly pleased to see the two high capacity melta guns were still there, now defending the right and left flanks of the Chimera. They were meant for breaching walls and defences during raids, but would melt throug a stream of the undead like they weren't even there.
"Ready all" he said through his communicator, as the first zombie found it could get through the door if it crawled under. One of the officers on the back blew its head apart with a single lasbolt before it could stand up again.
Three others started to crawl through, and were just as easily dispatched. Then another five. The door was only a metre off the ground - it needed to travel another four before the Chimera could pass without sweeping the men from the rear. This was going to take too long. As if he'd read Arctus' mind, a "Hold on" came through the comms and the tank lurched backwards, crushing boxes as if they contained nothing. Styles backed it up enough to thump it off the girders of the rear wall, giving the multilaser just enough elevation... Chriton aimed at the left most roller door mounting high on the wall, and with a whining-zapp spun up and fired the multilaser. The unit at one side of the door exploded in a shower of sparks and molten metal. Keeping his finger on the firing stud, he swung the turret right, punching through the door and wall behind it with the powerful lasbolts, until the motor unit at the left side was blown apart and fell from the wall. With a groan, the door dropped from its mount and crumpled on the warehouse threshold, crushing several undead beneath it.
"Go, go now!" called Arctus, and the Chimera lunged forwards, crushing the pile of wrecked door and flattening several zombies as it burst from the warehouse. Several tried to climb on and either lost their grip, were crushed, or were cooly shot by the officers riding on the back.
Within 30 seconds they'd left the immediate zombie threat behind them and were thundering along a mostly clear road towards the only dome exit - Gate 17 - that he knew was still open and heavily defended, right on the other side of the dome.
*********
Sonja parted yet another zombie head from its body with her chainsword. They were damned tenacious. Every few seconds another would wander into the hotel lobby they'd found themselves in and need to be cut down. Luckily the frontage was soundproofed for the comfort of guests, so the occasional shot or roar of a chainsword didn't seem to be attracting any more.
Unfortunately the sqare outside that they needed to cross was teeming with them. Someone had made a last stand - recently, by the fresh blood smeared on some of the wandering zombies - at the public information building in the centre. The zombies had not yet dispersed. A few were still excited and sporadically fighting each other - each time that happened it drew the others attention back to the sqauare.
"What're we gonna do, Sonja?" implored Hope, one of the new recruits.
They both knew it was only a matter of time before the beaurocracy further up the spire would catch up with events down here and the dome would be sealed - probably forever. Painful memoried flashed back of that damn crooked guilder. He had scammed a whole township and, upon being found out, had managed to convince someone powerful that there was a chaos cult growing... it hadn't been a big dome. It didn't make anything unique. It had been ordered sealed without much inquiry or investigation. With Sonja and several of the original Slicers' families still inside. They had been raiding a nearby Delaque gang at the time, and had returned jubilant to find every gateway, tunnel and vent welded shut, heavily mined or collapsed.
"We've got to try for it" she said, with a heavy heart.
She looked around at the women and girls. Pale with fear, expressions of grim determination. They understood.
They checked magazines, power cells, ammo belts and assorted blades, cudgels and grenades.
"This is it gentlemen," - that drew a snigger, morale was still ok - "we will probably get split up. If you get free, get to the edge of the dome and find a gate, vent, tunnel - anything that will get you out. Don't stop. No heroics."
They lined up by the door... and charged out into the square. Sonja and Hagga made it almost half way across before the zombies twigged something was amiss... and the fighting began.
*********
The Chimera grumbled up towards the centre of Downtown. Arctus smiled to himself as they trundled past the HIVE GUYS billboard - still with a crucified servitor crudely nailed to it. A zombie was standing beneath it, head tilted backwards, catching the occasional drop of hydraulic flud in its mouth. Arctus recodgnised his outfit as Sector Security Mech Pool. He'd probably been trying to retrieve the servitor when the zombies struck.
Arctus aimed carefully, and shot him through the neck as they passed. The hydraulic fluid ignited, and he exploded into flame, running away down the street hissing. He heard a chuckle through his intercom, and allowed himself a wry smile.
"Sir... what's that noise" Osram asked. The man had good ears, even before the helmet's engancement. Styles slowed the tank to a gentle stop and Arctus tried to listen... the others could hear it, but he, after so many years of warfare, couldn't. They insisted it was gunfire - from ahead.
Arctus ordered them forwards, quickly - gunfire meant survivors. Armed ones. And armed surviviers were, in his book, reinforcements.
*********
The Slicers were doing well - Sonja had found a moment of calm and quickly tried to take stock of the situation. Each close combat specialist had teamed up with a shooter, and they were fighting in little groups, just like they did in battle. They were edging their way across, and as far as she could see, not one Slicer had fallen... Her heart glowed with pride. A second later, a zombie tried to jump her from behind, and she lost track of things again.
*********
"Do we want them as allies Sir?" Styles asked, with distaste in his voice.
It was clearly one of the incomer gangs. Armed and dangerous fugitives. But they were fighting like demons and he had to admit that he was impressed by the way they seemed to have grouped up by speciality.
"We want them, Styles, we want them. Never fancied saving a damsel in distress?"
"They don't look like they're in distress. They look more dangerous than the Zombies."
"Indeed. I like it. Get this hunk of junk over there - all guns blazing - the cavalry has arrived!"
With a thundering roar and a cloud of blue smoke, the chimera lurched from its hull-down position in a burned out building and into the square. The multilaser opened up, shredding a cluster of zombies charging the female fighters. The high powered lasbolts popped them like party baloons as it superheated their fluids and organs. Flying splinters of bone even took out a couple on the periphery. Any other foe would have checked at that... but not the mindless undead. They simply made a beeline for the loudest, most dangerous thing they could sense - the tank. Several were easily cut down by the women as they turned to the new threat.
Sonja cut a zombie's legs from beneath it and almost cut another in half with her plasma pistol. They had simply turned away from her, and now she could see why. There was a tank, of all things, thundering across the square towards them, blasting with its laser cannon. Black armoured men on the back were almost casually shooting zombie after zombie with sleek, professional looking lasguns.
She breathed a sigh of relief, before getting back to picking off zombies.
Within another minute, it was over. She stood, surrounded by twitching, smoldering bodies, face to face with a man called Captain Arctus of Sector Securty. They were headed for Gate 17 - apparenlty the only open one left. He would ask no questions about the Slicers' activities, if they helped them all get out.
Sounded like a damn fine deal to her.
They quickly arranged themselves - the tank went first, with the best shots on top - two Slicers and two security officers, along with Mags and her heavy stubber. Behind followed the heavily armed and mixed bag of Slicers and officers as the tank crawled at a brisk walking pace towards the gate. It was an effecive approach - the zombies couldn't come fast enought to cause undue difficulty, and if any got close one of the close combat Slicers leapt out of line and quickly dispatched it.
It didn't seem like long before the gate loomed in front of them, massive mechanised adamantium doors open just a crack, with defensive positions set up outside. The surrounding buildings had been razed and demolished leaving a wide semicircular open killing zone. A loudhailer commanded them to stop fifty metres shy, still with the occasional zombie charging mindlessly at them and being cut down.
"IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR, WHO GOES THERE?" it called.
Arctus played with his comms, and after a few seconds, was on line with the head of the detachment guarding the door.
"Captain Arctus, Mega Dome One Sector Security, Downtown Division. Hauling out supplies for the Mayor."
"Supplies? You are aware what has happened here, 'Captain'?" - the man put a strain on the rank, clearly unconvinced.
Arctus decided to go for it, after raising warning finger to his men to keep their mouths shut. He prepared his most official Sergeant Major voice.
"You got me, Sir. Seargeant Major Horatio Arctus, Special Forces, 477th Necromunda Battalion, Imperial Guard. I suppose it was the tank that gave it away. No fooling you eh? We have retrieved sensitive materials under orders from the Inquisition regaring the disater here and are now heading for rendezvous. Might I most strongly suggest you don't get in our way. I can see thirty of you on our scope armed with little more than standard pattern las-popguns. We have a tank, armour, heavy weapons and almost as many men. If we want to come through, we damn well will whether you let us or not - then you can face some undead scum with a hole in your prescious door and considerably fewer troops and IF you survive you can explain to a High Inquisitor why you delayed us. I'm sure he would be most interested in your concerns." He cut the channel before several others started laughing.
After a second of consideration, the comm channel crackled again. "Who are the whores?"
Arcus decided to push the boat out - he hissed a breath in through his teeth - being sure to transmit it. "Sir... luckily the 'whores' are on a different comm channel. Sister Incognentia and her retinue of the Adeptus Sororitas Infiltrators are not known for their tolerance of foul language."
He heard the first half of a blunt swear word and several people saying "Oooh, sh..." before the comm cut off again.
It looked odd... but... they did indeed have a tank... several soldiers armed with hellguns and wearing some serious armour kit were riding on top and standing around. And the women... the women looked as though they could kill with a glance...
"Open the doors" called Sector Commander Chad to his subordinate. "Show due deference when our honored guests come through."
They proceeded through the gates like heroes. Soldiers lined up on each side of the street saluted them as they passed. Several averted their gaze when the Slicers stared back.
A hundred metres or so in, Sonja dashed up to the tank, deftly climbed aboard and approached Arctus.
"Time we were gone, hun." she said, cooly.
"Lest we not meet again, he said, holding out his non-mechanical hand."
"I hope not... we try not to have too much to do with the law..." She shook his hand, and lept from the tank. With a shrill whistle, Sonja's slicers melted away into the darkness between some warehouses.
Arctus tunred and surveyed the survivors.
"How much did Evelyn say this stuff was worth?"
"Thousands" a couple chimed in.
"Old mayor-of-nothing surely wouldn't miss a few hundreds worth... I think we've earned it."
Arctus himself was feeling like a young Sergeant again, the thrill of armed combat sharpening his flagging skills and senses. His bionic leg and arm had not worked so well in years, the constant hard toil bedding them in like they had never been before.
The door unlocked with a thunk of magnets disengaging. Something inside this nondescript warehouse was terribly important to the Mayor. Arctus had a low opinion of the man - his orders had indirectly helped the zombie horde take over the dome - always a danger when someone of no military experience ended up in charge of what should be a Guard matter. Consequently Arctus had found himself and his 30 officers on the wrong side of the dome pointlessly guarding servitor parts when the cack hit the recirculator. They might have done some good had they been in a central location, as it was they ended up bottled up when all hell broke loose and when the zombies emerged they couldn't do anything meaningful to contain them.
Their final orders had been to get the contents of this warehouse out of the dome. That had been three days ago and they hadn't heard anything since.
He nodded at Styles and Evelyn directly behind him. He couldn't be sure how he knew which was which - they were wearing identical armour - black and severe - their helmets and filters hiding their faces completely, the dull green glow of their visors obscuring their eyes. He put it down to his years of Imperial Guard service.
Without word, Styles swung the heavy door open, light spilling into the abandoned street. Evelyn raised her hotshot lasgun and swept in to the left as Arctus raised his laspistiol and swept right. They continued into the small anteroom and with a click into his communicator the others deftly swept in behind him. He was pleased to see the last two - Hallam and Vertes - turn to guard the door without prompting.
There was no sign of trouble here, the lights were on and everything seemed to be in place. There was a large window looking into the warehouse proper, but the lights were off out there and the glass was so filthy he couldn't make anything out. The connecting door was just a cheap clapboard one, and was unlocked to boot. He made his way through, laspistol still held high. His helmet visor automatically highlighted shapes in the darkness - boxes, pillars for a walkway above, cabling on the walls. The cabling led to a junction box on the wall beside the main roller door. Probably light controls there too.
Arctus carefully made his way through, followed by four of the others spread out. They were still keeping quiet, just in case.
He made it to the junction box without issue, and located a bank of light switches - he whispered "lights coming up" into his comm, and flicked half of the switches. The old halogen tubes pinged and clicked as they flickered to life, playing havoc with the visor sensitivity and his night vision. A few seconds later, most had settled - one in the far corner was still flickering away.
He surveyed the warehouse properly for the first time. There were boxes piled everywhere - all sorts of goods. Knockoff food prep units, cheap flat-pack furniture, hair removal cream - the mayor had been making a tidy bit on the side trading miscellaneous tat. None of it was prepped to move - he'd been told the goods would be ready to shift. His eye was drawn to a hulking great tarpaulin covered block in front of the roller door - part of the tarpaulin was folded up at the back, revealing the unmistakable shape of a lowered Chimera rear door. Now that is just the thing to have in a zombie attack, he thought to himself, starting to feel a little better about this mission.
Evelyn was looking in to the rear of the armoured personnel carrier. Her voice came in clearly over his comm - "It's wildsnake. Cases and cases of Balvenie wildsnake. Must be thousands of credits worth."
Her voice faded as she removed her helmet to survey the stack that filled most of the passenger compartment with her own eyes.
With the help of three others, Arctus pulled the tarp from the vehicle. It was a Chimera alright. Battered and repaired in a few places, but otherwise sound. It was painted in a brown and tan desert camouflage - probably from its last campaign with the Guard. It wouldn't exactly blend in in the hive.
The multilaser was present, as were the rows of hull mounted lasguns. Unfortunately the controls for the lasguns were blocked by the sheer mass of whisky boxes in the load area. He also noted with dismay that there would be no room for his officers inside - beyond a driver, gunner and commander, everyone else would need to walk or ride exposed on the back.
The other officers were wandering through the warehouse, surveying the assorted goods. A clatter of a box falling caught their attention, and a man in oil stained green overalls and a tank driver's helmet staggered out from behind a pile of cases of desk fans. "It must be the driver" Evelyn announced, walking over to him and extending her hand. She wasn't wearing her helmet. She couldn't see what Arctus's and a few of the others registered after a second... no heartbeat. They cried out in union, Evelyn looking to Arctus with surprise on her face... but it was too late - with a guttural snarl the ex-tank driver leapt and sank his teeth into her neck. A lightning fast hotshot lasbolt from Chriton blasted its right arm from its shoulder, but didn't stop it. Evelyn gurgled a scream as they both fell to the ground.
It sat up, tearing a mouthful of flesh from Evelyn's throat, and howled at the top of its lungs before Arctus put two laspistol shots into its back and one into its head. It went rigid and fell to the side with a thud.
Evelyn lay wheezing and gurgling, a tear rolled down her cheek as Arctus approached and aimed the pistol between her eyes. She'd been a good, reliable sector security officer, and had done her duty without question. She looked down the muzzle of his laspistol, closed here eyes, and nodded.
The shot echoed round the warehouse for a few seconds as everyone stood in silent shock.
"The area is compromised" Arctus stated coolly, "Get that tank running, now."
*********
Sonja crept to the edge of the rooftop on her hands and knees, and peered over the edge beside Anita.
"They're all over the fracking place..." she whispered, exasperated. It had been a day since the shooting finally died down. The first scouts out of the hideout had returned swiftly, panicked.
Sonja hadn't believed them until she'd seen it herself. Now she was regretting coming to this damned dome altogether. They should have stayed in Choke Town and taken out that damned corrupt Guilder instead. Now they were trapped near the centre of the dome, which was teeming with zombies. Several buildings were burning, filling the air with an acrid haze. They couldn't see far even from their high vantage point atop a water tower, but they could see hundreds - or thousands - of undead ambling aimlessly around the streets.
Anita was looking through the telescopic sight of her lasgun. She nudged Sonja in the shoulder and pointed over the edge to a hab unit one street over. A first floor window had just opened and a man armed with a heavy stubber was standing there. She could just make out others congregating on the lower floors.
"Get ready everyone, someone's going to try and make a break for it." They clambered down the after tower ladders and, just before reaching the bottom, heard the chatter of stubber fire begin. As if as one, the zombies in the street perked up and turned to face the sound, before charging towards it, shrieking.
After only a few seconds all of the zombies in the immediate vicinity had gone. As one, the Slicers dashed across the wide street, heading for the nearest dome wall and, hopefully, a way out.
*********
The Chimera roared to life in a cloud of blue prometheum fog so dense some of it made it past Arctus' filter system. Luckily they were easy enough to drive, sharing a control scheme with most Imperial tracked machines. The engine roared as Styles gunned it to get the oil and coolant flowing properly.
This was going to attract an awful lot of attention.
Arctus stood by the roller door and turned off the warehouse lights - may as well not make it a light show too. The remaining officers clambered onto the vehicle - it was a tight squeeze up there. With Styles drivingm, Chriton manning the multilaser controls and Hallam in the heavy bolter position - now a little crestfallen as it transpired it had no ammunition - the only other space inside was the commander's seat, which had been left vacant for Arctus without any hint needed from him. That left six crowded on the upper doors at the back and perched precariously on the track guards. He hoped Styles would drive it smoothly.
He threw the switch, and with a tortured squeal of metal the roller door started creeping ever so slowly upwards upwards. Dashing to the rear of the tank, Vertes gave him a hand up and he quickly hopped into the turret seat, staying up with the hatch open. It wouldn't do to hide inside the sealed up tank whilst his men rode outside.
As the door rose, he could see movement outside. Between engine roars he heard a howl of rage. He turned to look over the officers behind them. Indicators were glowing green on the lasguns - he thanked the Emperor that when they'd cracked open the never-issued security service weapons crates they'd discovered they were all hotshot lasguns hardwired directly into large backpack power units, which also contained cooling systems for the guns, armour and integrated comm units. Some dishonesty had taken place in the past on top of whatever administrative frack-up had resulted in military grade hardware ending up in a sector security armoury, as they were on record as having 100 of such armour and weapon sets, yet the apparenlty long-sealed store contained only twenty three. The dome had gone all to hell before whoever had been selling them on the sly - his money was on the mayor - had been able to flog the lot. He was particularly pleased to see the two high capacity melta guns were still there, now defending the right and left flanks of the Chimera. They were meant for breaching walls and defences during raids, but would melt throug a stream of the undead like they weren't even there.
"Ready all" he said through his communicator, as the first zombie found it could get through the door if it crawled under. One of the officers on the back blew its head apart with a single lasbolt before it could stand up again.
Three others started to crawl through, and were just as easily dispatched. Then another five. The door was only a metre off the ground - it needed to travel another four before the Chimera could pass without sweeping the men from the rear. This was going to take too long. As if he'd read Arctus' mind, a "Hold on" came through the comms and the tank lurched backwards, crushing boxes as if they contained nothing. Styles backed it up enough to thump it off the girders of the rear wall, giving the multilaser just enough elevation... Chriton aimed at the left most roller door mounting high on the wall, and with a whining-zapp spun up and fired the multilaser. The unit at one side of the door exploded in a shower of sparks and molten metal. Keeping his finger on the firing stud, he swung the turret right, punching through the door and wall behind it with the powerful lasbolts, until the motor unit at the left side was blown apart and fell from the wall. With a groan, the door dropped from its mount and crumpled on the warehouse threshold, crushing several undead beneath it.
"Go, go now!" called Arctus, and the Chimera lunged forwards, crushing the pile of wrecked door and flattening several zombies as it burst from the warehouse. Several tried to climb on and either lost their grip, were crushed, or were cooly shot by the officers riding on the back.
Within 30 seconds they'd left the immediate zombie threat behind them and were thundering along a mostly clear road towards the only dome exit - Gate 17 - that he knew was still open and heavily defended, right on the other side of the dome.
*********
Sonja parted yet another zombie head from its body with her chainsword. They were damned tenacious. Every few seconds another would wander into the hotel lobby they'd found themselves in and need to be cut down. Luckily the frontage was soundproofed for the comfort of guests, so the occasional shot or roar of a chainsword didn't seem to be attracting any more.
Unfortunately the sqare outside that they needed to cross was teeming with them. Someone had made a last stand - recently, by the fresh blood smeared on some of the wandering zombies - at the public information building in the centre. The zombies had not yet dispersed. A few were still excited and sporadically fighting each other - each time that happened it drew the others attention back to the sqauare.
"What're we gonna do, Sonja?" implored Hope, one of the new recruits.
They both knew it was only a matter of time before the beaurocracy further up the spire would catch up with events down here and the dome would be sealed - probably forever. Painful memoried flashed back of that damn crooked guilder. He had scammed a whole township and, upon being found out, had managed to convince someone powerful that there was a chaos cult growing... it hadn't been a big dome. It didn't make anything unique. It had been ordered sealed without much inquiry or investigation. With Sonja and several of the original Slicers' families still inside. They had been raiding a nearby Delaque gang at the time, and had returned jubilant to find every gateway, tunnel and vent welded shut, heavily mined or collapsed.
"We've got to try for it" she said, with a heavy heart.
She looked around at the women and girls. Pale with fear, expressions of grim determination. They understood.
They checked magazines, power cells, ammo belts and assorted blades, cudgels and grenades.
"This is it gentlemen," - that drew a snigger, morale was still ok - "we will probably get split up. If you get free, get to the edge of the dome and find a gate, vent, tunnel - anything that will get you out. Don't stop. No heroics."
They lined up by the door... and charged out into the square. Sonja and Hagga made it almost half way across before the zombies twigged something was amiss... and the fighting began.
*********
The Chimera grumbled up towards the centre of Downtown. Arctus smiled to himself as they trundled past the HIVE GUYS billboard - still with a crucified servitor crudely nailed to it. A zombie was standing beneath it, head tilted backwards, catching the occasional drop of hydraulic flud in its mouth. Arctus recodgnised his outfit as Sector Security Mech Pool. He'd probably been trying to retrieve the servitor when the zombies struck.
Arctus aimed carefully, and shot him through the neck as they passed. The hydraulic fluid ignited, and he exploded into flame, running away down the street hissing. He heard a chuckle through his intercom, and allowed himself a wry smile.
"Sir... what's that noise" Osram asked. The man had good ears, even before the helmet's engancement. Styles slowed the tank to a gentle stop and Arctus tried to listen... the others could hear it, but he, after so many years of warfare, couldn't. They insisted it was gunfire - from ahead.
Arctus ordered them forwards, quickly - gunfire meant survivors. Armed ones. And armed surviviers were, in his book, reinforcements.
*********
The Slicers were doing well - Sonja had found a moment of calm and quickly tried to take stock of the situation. Each close combat specialist had teamed up with a shooter, and they were fighting in little groups, just like they did in battle. They were edging their way across, and as far as she could see, not one Slicer had fallen... Her heart glowed with pride. A second later, a zombie tried to jump her from behind, and she lost track of things again.
*********
"Do we want them as allies Sir?" Styles asked, with distaste in his voice.
It was clearly one of the incomer gangs. Armed and dangerous fugitives. But they were fighting like demons and he had to admit that he was impressed by the way they seemed to have grouped up by speciality.
"We want them, Styles, we want them. Never fancied saving a damsel in distress?"
"They don't look like they're in distress. They look more dangerous than the Zombies."
"Indeed. I like it. Get this hunk of junk over there - all guns blazing - the cavalry has arrived!"
With a thundering roar and a cloud of blue smoke, the chimera lurched from its hull-down position in a burned out building and into the square. The multilaser opened up, shredding a cluster of zombies charging the female fighters. The high powered lasbolts popped them like party baloons as it superheated their fluids and organs. Flying splinters of bone even took out a couple on the periphery. Any other foe would have checked at that... but not the mindless undead. They simply made a beeline for the loudest, most dangerous thing they could sense - the tank. Several were easily cut down by the women as they turned to the new threat.
Sonja cut a zombie's legs from beneath it and almost cut another in half with her plasma pistol. They had simply turned away from her, and now she could see why. There was a tank, of all things, thundering across the square towards them, blasting with its laser cannon. Black armoured men on the back were almost casually shooting zombie after zombie with sleek, professional looking lasguns.
She breathed a sigh of relief, before getting back to picking off zombies.
Within another minute, it was over. She stood, surrounded by twitching, smoldering bodies, face to face with a man called Captain Arctus of Sector Securty. They were headed for Gate 17 - apparenlty the only open one left. He would ask no questions about the Slicers' activities, if they helped them all get out.
Sounded like a damn fine deal to her.
They quickly arranged themselves - the tank went first, with the best shots on top - two Slicers and two security officers, along with Mags and her heavy stubber. Behind followed the heavily armed and mixed bag of Slicers and officers as the tank crawled at a brisk walking pace towards the gate. It was an effecive approach - the zombies couldn't come fast enought to cause undue difficulty, and if any got close one of the close combat Slicers leapt out of line and quickly dispatched it.
It didn't seem like long before the gate loomed in front of them, massive mechanised adamantium doors open just a crack, with defensive positions set up outside. The surrounding buildings had been razed and demolished leaving a wide semicircular open killing zone. A loudhailer commanded them to stop fifty metres shy, still with the occasional zombie charging mindlessly at them and being cut down.
"IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR, WHO GOES THERE?" it called.
Arctus played with his comms, and after a few seconds, was on line with the head of the detachment guarding the door.
"Captain Arctus, Mega Dome One Sector Security, Downtown Division. Hauling out supplies for the Mayor."
"Supplies? You are aware what has happened here, 'Captain'?" - the man put a strain on the rank, clearly unconvinced.
Arctus decided to go for it, after raising warning finger to his men to keep their mouths shut. He prepared his most official Sergeant Major voice.
"You got me, Sir. Seargeant Major Horatio Arctus, Special Forces, 477th Necromunda Battalion, Imperial Guard. I suppose it was the tank that gave it away. No fooling you eh? We have retrieved sensitive materials under orders from the Inquisition regaring the disater here and are now heading for rendezvous. Might I most strongly suggest you don't get in our way. I can see thirty of you on our scope armed with little more than standard pattern las-popguns. We have a tank, armour, heavy weapons and almost as many men. If we want to come through, we damn well will whether you let us or not - then you can face some undead scum with a hole in your prescious door and considerably fewer troops and IF you survive you can explain to a High Inquisitor why you delayed us. I'm sure he would be most interested in your concerns." He cut the channel before several others started laughing.
After a second of consideration, the comm channel crackled again. "Who are the whores?"
Arcus decided to push the boat out - he hissed a breath in through his teeth - being sure to transmit it. "Sir... luckily the 'whores' are on a different comm channel. Sister Incognentia and her retinue of the Adeptus Sororitas Infiltrators are not known for their tolerance of foul language."
He heard the first half of a blunt swear word and several people saying "Oooh, sh..." before the comm cut off again.
It looked odd... but... they did indeed have a tank... several soldiers armed with hellguns and wearing some serious armour kit were riding on top and standing around. And the women... the women looked as though they could kill with a glance...
"Open the doors" called Sector Commander Chad to his subordinate. "Show due deference when our honored guests come through."
They proceeded through the gates like heroes. Soldiers lined up on each side of the street saluted them as they passed. Several averted their gaze when the Slicers stared back.
A hundred metres or so in, Sonja dashed up to the tank, deftly climbed aboard and approached Arctus.
"Time we were gone, hun." she said, cooly.
"Lest we not meet again, he said, holding out his non-mechanical hand."
"I hope not... we try not to have too much to do with the law..." She shook his hand, and lept from the tank. With a shrill whistle, Sonja's slicers melted away into the darkness between some warehouses.
Arctus tunred and surveyed the survivors.
"How much did Evelyn say this stuff was worth?"
"Thousands" a couple chimed in.
"Old mayor-of-nothing surely wouldn't miss a few hundreds worth... I think we've earned it."
CaptainDangerous
Officer, without number, head turner, troll burner
Staff member
Yak Comp 3rd Place
Tribe Council
The Tragedy of The Captain and Crew of the I.S.S. Crumpet...
This wasn't the first time the Captain had been to Downtown Mega Dome One, when he was last here he managed to blag a good deal from that stupid mayor. He had sold him some of the servitors that he had found on Armagedon, what the mayor didn't know wouldn't hurt, right? And with all the spare parts that came with them, the captain would be making profit for days!
But upon receiving the news that one of the units had been damaged, the captain Gave out a boatswains call to his crew of ex bodybuilding servitors (all suffering the imperial price for extreme vanity) and headed , from their ship in necromunda's orbit, to retrieve the salvage with the intention of giving it a lick of paint and selling it back on!
So the captain, in true leader fasion, teleported first, to the darkest, meanest part of the underhive .......which he had made sure was clear of any and all mean darkness by his Delaque intelligence operative, known only as agent brown.
Together they travelled 100 miles in the captains newly aquired Dangermobile, but found it was a difficult journey as neither of them wanted to look the least cool by removing their shades!
Upon arriving in the dome, the captain went to locate the missing servitor, only to find him pinned unnaturally to the domes hive guys sign and totally unsalvagable, while he sent Brown to rendezvous with the local badass, psycopath, fellow goliath weight enthusiast, Rick Razor.
Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
While the Razorbacks were having their midweek wind-down drinking session, their supply of belvenie wildsnake had not turned up from their brother house Gang the Ripflow tide sharks, (it was due to be delivered by the river that day)
And not only that, but by the next morning, all the Razorbacks had vanished!
Not wanting to miss out on some lucrative trading, and with a seconds silence for his missing kinsmen, the captain approached the mayor of downtown and tried to play hardball with his onions and hairgel!
Knowing a useful idiot when he sees one, and with slight pang of guilt from the excessive amounts of servitor parts that accidentally got sent to him, the mayor offered the captain some 'prime real estate' if he could manage to dredge the old sump round the back of the guild offices.
Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and after being reassured that there was no links whatsoever to any ancient yakskin tribe, rituals, prophesies or otherwise. The captain soon settled in to his new underhive dwelling, quickly getting his crew down to the surface, and hastily turning the domes precious clean water supply into a private spa and bubble bath emporium.
All was good for a time,
Although he had yet to find a buyer for his new brand of shampoo, (made from the finest sludge from the Ripflow tide river - he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just an element to his chemicals that just gave the glossiest of shines to any hair type) and he and the crew were just finishing giving the THUNDERCUBE a last minute rustic old concrete finish when they heard a loud bellow from the other side of the arena! Whatever it was, it sounded monsterous....and it sounded p**sed off!
Here's the captains men, minding their own buisness, painting grey walls a differnt shade of grey without a care in the hive!
But what is this? Out of the darkness comes the yellow beasts! With raging howls and clashing of bionics they come with a fierce purpose! TO BREAK THE CHAINS OF SERVITUDE, So that all cyborgs may be free!!
The very first Pitslaves to enter the THUNDERCUBE! Their spirits high and their prosthetics sharp!
The left flank, as the captain makes best use of his tactical firing line (he isn't using them as cover...honestly)
The mechanical might of Moleman and the professor advance with purpose.
The fight was breif but the carnage was glorious! The left flank managed to hold the molemen at bay (despite an infiltrating yakskin that didn't follow any orders - he was still lovesick from his affair with a slicer)
The centre was dominated by chief engineer krunk's heavy stub volleys, and the right flank truly belonged to the mechanical menace!
Sending his ordinary seemen to prove their worth, and supervised by chief science officer Wolfgang, the only juve to show any valour was number 5! After completely failing to cause any damage from three badly thrown grenades, the pitslave's quickly closed the gap. Number 5 used his quick wits to stop a set of sheers by wedging a grenade between them, he couldn't save his comrade from being held aloft on the end of a chain blade and being shredded into a hundred peices, number 4 was no more, he hadn't even written his compulsory nice poem about the captain yet! And it all was abit much for number 6 who fled as fast as his legs could carry him.
If the battle had been but five minutes longer the captain would have been in trouble, but as it was, moleman called off the attack and with pride at showing the surface dwellers the capabilities of his molekind, he made his way back to the east side of the dome!
Having started to get suspicious of the mayor, the captain rallied his men and went on a diplomatic mission to his mutually beneficial neibour, the delaque leader known as Stroudenmire.
Being on the other side of the river, and more importantly, the other side of the slicers, the captain really let his guard down as the baldy appearance of their clan had no real threat to the captains main line of buisness.
He asked Stroudenmire if he knew of any flourishing enterprises that could be had in the dome, and he hastily pointed out that with the great arena, people will want to have a warm up act, and there is nothing funnier than seeing an escaped slave running for his life to get the crowd jeered up and thirsting for more!
He drew the captain a map of some tunnel systems that were notorious hiding places for dreggs.
So the captain set out, happy with his new found aquaintance.
Into the tunnels they went and it wasn't long before Kokoum, the yakskin scout, called out from the darkness appealing for the captains aid!
He had found a group of down and outers, but he had also found something else!
The captain split his men into two teams, the right side led by Wolfgang, would aid Kokoum as quickly as possible, while the left team, led personally by the captain would head off any slave trying to make off!
Right team come into view of Kokoum, but he looks shaken, not only is he witnessing a random ganger being mauled by a giant mutant tenticle, he also hears the hive spirits and they warn him of a great danger lurking amongst the shadows.
Right team make contact with the unknown house fighters, they hold their line but instantly regret it as a frag grenade lands with precision right at their feet! BOOM!!
Quickly pulling them round, Wolfgang opens up with his autoslugger and repels the enemy, but it is in vain as the hidden menace as foreseen by Kokoum, leaps from its hiding place and savages the entire killteam.
But be it known not one of dangercompany fled the menace, they served their captain well!
The left team made a cautious advance and was soon in the thick of a firefight. After turning a corner, they were confronted by a rather worn out, bloodied fighter, who only managed a wry smile and a small wave of his free hand before klunk opened up his weapon and saw the tenticle monster off!
But the distraction came at a price, in hindsight, having his men March drillsquare like around the sence corridors was a tactile mistake, as a huge gout of flamer fuel engulfed the entire of left team!
One crewman went out in pain and Krunk caught fire and was manically trying to exhaust the flames as the captain made a tactical retreat around the corner (....what??....it was a new tunic!)
After afew more shots were fired, Krunk managed to beat out the flames, but not without gaining a new found fear of promethium fire.
The captain begrudgingly called the retreat,
Kokoum was never seen again,
And the captain questioned how much about the tunnels Stroudenmire ACTUALLY knew!?
It had taken a while for the crew to recover their wounds, but the captain made sure buisness was still open as usual.
Due to the ever dwindling lack of manpower, he hired the help of an old accomplice of his who for some reason or another, happened to be wandering the dome!
He may look old and may look as though he would blow away in a vent gust, but by the emperor is he strong! All it took was for the captain to buy him a pint of second best and a handful of softmints and Cohen was happy to help out!
The captain had spent most his free time working out stroudenmires buisness practices and trade routes. Brown had given him the perfect ambush point, and the captain just bide his time until he could make a true statement of revenge! He waited until they were transporting luxury toiletries for the mayor and a shipment of extra strength hair removal cream! He was going to make all the baldies of the dome pay for their disdain! The captain wasn't happy...
The ambush was set, the men had them surrounded from every angle! They had played the delaque at their own game and they had succeeded! All that they were waiting for now was the signal of a grenade blast by number 5......
Number 5 pulled the pin, he could see the enemy making their way across the gantry, cargo flanked by the irregularly lax delaque formation, could they have known they were being followed, who knew, the captain was waiting for his signal though, here goes nothing.......
Number 5 jumped from his hiding place and threw with all his might.....
He watched the grenade fly way off target and into the abyss....
Oh bugger...
Krunk had only just gotten to his vantage point when he heard the blast, too early, way way too early! He looked up and there was a heavy stubber pointed right at him......
Wolfgang and number 7 (Bond) were in position, Wolfgang watched the failed grenade fly and on his own initiative clicked the autoslugger into automatic and opened up, pinning the lascannon weilder.
Up above him Bond had come face to face with the legendary gunfighter, wild bill. They exchange a short glance before reaching for their weapons! Too fast for bond, wild bill makes his mark, causing the able crewman to slump over the edge of the building, enough to cause Wolfgang to be distracted....
The lascannon weilder takes advantage of the break in strecato, he lifts his finely tuned instrument of death and with one well aimed shot, Wolfgang was out of the fight and would be immediately teleported back to the medbay aboard the crumpet!
On the highest most tower, the captain watched as the conflict and ambush failed.
He had made the plans, and studied the trade routes. His sources had been reliant up until now. What had happened?
Before self doubt could enter his mind. Through some hatches a throng of delaque emerged!
The captain didn't hesitate, a well placed lasblast brought a hulking delaque to his knees, causing all but two, to jump to safety.....
Through the haze, stood right before the captain, was Stroudenmire!
Unnervingly unaffraid of the captain, Stroudenmire dived towards him, releasing a barrage of plasma pistol rounds!
The captain took two to the chest but it would take more than a burning ball of plasma to keep the captain down!
Stroudenmire parries the captains pickaxe, does a whirling flourish, trenchcoat billowing from the movement, and ends with the plasma pistol placed firmly against the captains forehead.....
The captain didn't hear what Stroudenmire said.....
He didn't hear anything again.....
Rupert, fighting off the yakskin Slag Heap, just couldn't keep it together and fled. The mechanicum say that servitors can't cry, but on that day, whether it was condensation or a drop from a stalagtite, able crewman0001 (now acting captain) Rupert, had a tear in his eye.
The captai was dead, his cap floated down from the heights and landed gently into the gutter.
Not only had Stroudenmire known, but he was also in league with the mayor! He was tipped off about the ambush, and before Rupert had even made it back to the Captains tower (he was secretly coveting his opportunity to have his first ever bubble bath) the guild had changed the locks and declared the territory deeds in the Copperheads name!
Rupert had no more condensation left, he hung his head low and made his way to the rest of the crew at the hair gel refinery.
When he got there, he found klunk busily dismantling the dispenser mechanism, the captain had left strict orders that, should anything happen, that they disable all functional machinery and let the grox lovers rot!
The rest of the men were patrolling the walls when Krunk noticed movement at the gate,
Expending all his ammo in the first volley, he swiftly took the unwary intruder, and with the alarm sounded, the rest of the crew jumped to action!
Being vastly outnumbered, the crew held their ground, the captain would have been so pleased.
Battle ensues as the more daring fighters close the gap.
On the far side of the refinery, an old enemy is creeping in the darkness.....
Fighting off a barrage of firepower and protecting the newly commissioned Rupert, number two uses a staple gun (possessed for use in company administration) to keep his leaders squidgy bits intact, as he spots the danger in the shadow........
Leaping up onto the wall, the xeno makes a wild roar, but number 2 fears not the alien, he swiftly uses a technique once taught to him by the captain himself........
SPARTAN KICK!!!
Number 2 loads a round into the chamber and stares for a second at the stunned monstrosity....
"Get away from him, you bitch!"
*budda budda budda*
The bolt rounds hit their mark and cause the creature to wince in pain, acouple of rounds are lodged tight into the Devils chitinous hide!
Despite their valient efforts, the crew of the crumpet just couldn't hold their ground.
In the following days the crew hear rumours that the alien menace had unknowingly been promoted to watchmen!
Despite ruperts protests, his appeal had been ignored, the crew were a spent force within the dome.
Failed in there mission to dominate trade in the dome, in really bad shape and in tattered uniform, they meet up with agent brown who leads them to the teleport homing beacon.
On the bridge, Rupert, all resplendent and ship shape in his new uniform hands a manuscript report to a dark figure sat in the chair of a space captain, the figure quickly flicks through the document and nods slowly and in approval....
I'll get you next time Stroudenmire! Next time.........
But upon receiving the news that one of the units had been damaged, the captain Gave out a boatswains call to his crew of ex bodybuilding servitors (all suffering the imperial price for extreme vanity) and headed , from their ship in necromunda's orbit, to retrieve the salvage with the intention of giving it a lick of paint and selling it back on!
So the captain, in true leader fasion, teleported first, to the darkest, meanest part of the underhive .......which he had made sure was clear of any and all mean darkness by his Delaque intelligence operative, known only as agent brown.
Together they travelled 100 miles in the captains newly aquired Dangermobile, but found it was a difficult journey as neither of them wanted to look the least cool by removing their shades!
Upon arriving in the dome, the captain went to locate the missing servitor, only to find him pinned unnaturally to the domes hive guys sign and totally unsalvagable, while he sent Brown to rendezvous with the local badass, psycopath, fellow goliath weight enthusiast, Rick Razor.
Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
While the Razorbacks were having their midweek wind-down drinking session, their supply of belvenie wildsnake had not turned up from their brother house Gang the Ripflow tide sharks, (it was due to be delivered by the river that day)
And not only that, but by the next morning, all the Razorbacks had vanished!
Not wanting to miss out on some lucrative trading, and with a seconds silence for his missing kinsmen, the captain approached the mayor of downtown and tried to play hardball with his onions and hairgel!
Knowing a useful idiot when he sees one, and with slight pang of guilt from the excessive amounts of servitor parts that accidentally got sent to him, the mayor offered the captain some 'prime real estate' if he could manage to dredge the old sump round the back of the guild offices.
Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and after being reassured that there was no links whatsoever to any ancient yakskin tribe, rituals, prophesies or otherwise. The captain soon settled in to his new underhive dwelling, quickly getting his crew down to the surface, and hastily turning the domes precious clean water supply into a private spa and bubble bath emporium.
All was good for a time,
Although he had yet to find a buyer for his new brand of shampoo, (made from the finest sludge from the Ripflow tide river - he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just an element to his chemicals that just gave the glossiest of shines to any hair type) and he and the crew were just finishing giving the THUNDERCUBE a last minute rustic old concrete finish when they heard a loud bellow from the other side of the arena! Whatever it was, it sounded monsterous....and it sounded p**sed off!
Here's the captains men, minding their own buisness, painting grey walls a differnt shade of grey without a care in the hive!
But what is this? Out of the darkness comes the yellow beasts! With raging howls and clashing of bionics they come with a fierce purpose! TO BREAK THE CHAINS OF SERVITUDE, So that all cyborgs may be free!!
The very first Pitslaves to enter the THUNDERCUBE! Their spirits high and their prosthetics sharp!
The left flank, as the captain makes best use of his tactical firing line (he isn't using them as cover...honestly)
The mechanical might of Moleman and the professor advance with purpose.
The fight was breif but the carnage was glorious! The left flank managed to hold the molemen at bay (despite an infiltrating yakskin that didn't follow any orders - he was still lovesick from his affair with a slicer)
The centre was dominated by chief engineer krunk's heavy stub volleys, and the right flank truly belonged to the mechanical menace!
Sending his ordinary seemen to prove their worth, and supervised by chief science officer Wolfgang, the only juve to show any valour was number 5! After completely failing to cause any damage from three badly thrown grenades, the pitslave's quickly closed the gap. Number 5 used his quick wits to stop a set of sheers by wedging a grenade between them, he couldn't save his comrade from being held aloft on the end of a chain blade and being shredded into a hundred peices, number 4 was no more, he hadn't even written his compulsory nice poem about the captain yet! And it all was abit much for number 6 who fled as fast as his legs could carry him.
If the battle had been but five minutes longer the captain would have been in trouble, but as it was, moleman called off the attack and with pride at showing the surface dwellers the capabilities of his molekind, he made his way back to the east side of the dome!
Having started to get suspicious of the mayor, the captain rallied his men and went on a diplomatic mission to his mutually beneficial neibour, the delaque leader known as Stroudenmire.
Being on the other side of the river, and more importantly, the other side of the slicers, the captain really let his guard down as the baldy appearance of their clan had no real threat to the captains main line of buisness.
He asked Stroudenmire if he knew of any flourishing enterprises that could be had in the dome, and he hastily pointed out that with the great arena, people will want to have a warm up act, and there is nothing funnier than seeing an escaped slave running for his life to get the crowd jeered up and thirsting for more!
He drew the captain a map of some tunnel systems that were notorious hiding places for dreggs.
So the captain set out, happy with his new found aquaintance.
Into the tunnels they went and it wasn't long before Kokoum, the yakskin scout, called out from the darkness appealing for the captains aid!
He had found a group of down and outers, but he had also found something else!
The captain split his men into two teams, the right side led by Wolfgang, would aid Kokoum as quickly as possible, while the left team, led personally by the captain would head off any slave trying to make off!
Right team come into view of Kokoum, but he looks shaken, not only is he witnessing a random ganger being mauled by a giant mutant tenticle, he also hears the hive spirits and they warn him of a great danger lurking amongst the shadows.
Right team make contact with the unknown house fighters, they hold their line but instantly regret it as a frag grenade lands with precision right at their feet! BOOM!!
Quickly pulling them round, Wolfgang opens up with his autoslugger and repels the enemy, but it is in vain as the hidden menace as foreseen by Kokoum, leaps from its hiding place and savages the entire killteam.
But be it known not one of dangercompany fled the menace, they served their captain well!
The left team made a cautious advance and was soon in the thick of a firefight. After turning a corner, they were confronted by a rather worn out, bloodied fighter, who only managed a wry smile and a small wave of his free hand before klunk opened up his weapon and saw the tenticle monster off!
But the distraction came at a price, in hindsight, having his men March drillsquare like around the sence corridors was a tactile mistake, as a huge gout of flamer fuel engulfed the entire of left team!
One crewman went out in pain and Krunk caught fire and was manically trying to exhaust the flames as the captain made a tactical retreat around the corner (....what??....it was a new tunic!)
After afew more shots were fired, Krunk managed to beat out the flames, but not without gaining a new found fear of promethium fire.
The captain begrudgingly called the retreat,
Kokoum was never seen again,
And the captain questioned how much about the tunnels Stroudenmire ACTUALLY knew!?
It had taken a while for the crew to recover their wounds, but the captain made sure buisness was still open as usual.
Due to the ever dwindling lack of manpower, he hired the help of an old accomplice of his who for some reason or another, happened to be wandering the dome!
He may look old and may look as though he would blow away in a vent gust, but by the emperor is he strong! All it took was for the captain to buy him a pint of second best and a handful of softmints and Cohen was happy to help out!
The captain had spent most his free time working out stroudenmires buisness practices and trade routes. Brown had given him the perfect ambush point, and the captain just bide his time until he could make a true statement of revenge! He waited until they were transporting luxury toiletries for the mayor and a shipment of extra strength hair removal cream! He was going to make all the baldies of the dome pay for their disdain! The captain wasn't happy...
The ambush was set, the men had them surrounded from every angle! They had played the delaque at their own game and they had succeeded! All that they were waiting for now was the signal of a grenade blast by number 5......
Number 5 pulled the pin, he could see the enemy making their way across the gantry, cargo flanked by the irregularly lax delaque formation, could they have known they were being followed, who knew, the captain was waiting for his signal though, here goes nothing.......
Number 5 jumped from his hiding place and threw with all his might.....
He watched the grenade fly way off target and into the abyss....
Oh bugger...
Krunk had only just gotten to his vantage point when he heard the blast, too early, way way too early! He looked up and there was a heavy stubber pointed right at him......
Wolfgang and number 7 (Bond) were in position, Wolfgang watched the failed grenade fly and on his own initiative clicked the autoslugger into automatic and opened up, pinning the lascannon weilder.
Up above him Bond had come face to face with the legendary gunfighter, wild bill. They exchange a short glance before reaching for their weapons! Too fast for bond, wild bill makes his mark, causing the able crewman to slump over the edge of the building, enough to cause Wolfgang to be distracted....
The lascannon weilder takes advantage of the break in strecato, he lifts his finely tuned instrument of death and with one well aimed shot, Wolfgang was out of the fight and would be immediately teleported back to the medbay aboard the crumpet!
On the highest most tower, the captain watched as the conflict and ambush failed.
He had made the plans, and studied the trade routes. His sources had been reliant up until now. What had happened?
Before self doubt could enter his mind. Through some hatches a throng of delaque emerged!
The captain didn't hesitate, a well placed lasblast brought a hulking delaque to his knees, causing all but two, to jump to safety.....
Through the haze, stood right before the captain, was Stroudenmire!
Unnervingly unaffraid of the captain, Stroudenmire dived towards him, releasing a barrage of plasma pistol rounds!
The captain took two to the chest but it would take more than a burning ball of plasma to keep the captain down!
Stroudenmire parries the captains pickaxe, does a whirling flourish, trenchcoat billowing from the movement, and ends with the plasma pistol placed firmly against the captains forehead.....
The captain didn't hear what Stroudenmire said.....
He didn't hear anything again.....
Rupert, fighting off the yakskin Slag Heap, just couldn't keep it together and fled. The mechanicum say that servitors can't cry, but on that day, whether it was condensation or a drop from a stalagtite, able crewman0001 (now acting captain) Rupert, had a tear in his eye.
The captai was dead, his cap floated down from the heights and landed gently into the gutter.
Not only had Stroudenmire known, but he was also in league with the mayor! He was tipped off about the ambush, and before Rupert had even made it back to the Captains tower (he was secretly coveting his opportunity to have his first ever bubble bath) the guild had changed the locks and declared the territory deeds in the Copperheads name!
Rupert had no more condensation left, he hung his head low and made his way to the rest of the crew at the hair gel refinery.
When he got there, he found klunk busily dismantling the dispenser mechanism, the captain had left strict orders that, should anything happen, that they disable all functional machinery and let the grox lovers rot!
The rest of the men were patrolling the walls when Krunk noticed movement at the gate,
Expending all his ammo in the first volley, he swiftly took the unwary intruder, and with the alarm sounded, the rest of the crew jumped to action!
Being vastly outnumbered, the crew held their ground, the captain would have been so pleased.
Battle ensues as the more daring fighters close the gap.
On the far side of the refinery, an old enemy is creeping in the darkness.....
Fighting off a barrage of firepower and protecting the newly commissioned Rupert, number two uses a staple gun (possessed for use in company administration) to keep his leaders squidgy bits intact, as he spots the danger in the shadow........
Leaping up onto the wall, the xeno makes a wild roar, but number 2 fears not the alien, he swiftly uses a technique once taught to him by the captain himself........
SPARTAN KICK!!!
Number 2 loads a round into the chamber and stares for a second at the stunned monstrosity....
"Get away from him, you bitch!"
*budda budda budda*
The bolt rounds hit their mark and cause the creature to wince in pain, acouple of rounds are lodged tight into the Devils chitinous hide!
Despite their valient efforts, the crew of the crumpet just couldn't hold their ground.
In the following days the crew hear rumours that the alien menace had unknowingly been promoted to watchmen!
Despite ruperts protests, his appeal had been ignored, the crew were a spent force within the dome.
Failed in there mission to dominate trade in the dome, in really bad shape and in tattered uniform, they meet up with agent brown who leads them to the teleport homing beacon.
On the bridge, Rupert, all resplendent and ship shape in his new uniform hands a manuscript report to a dark figure sat in the chair of a space captain, the figure quickly flicks through the document and nods slowly and in approval....
I'll get you next time Stroudenmire! Next time.........
Ooh, glad to see a pic of the epic brawl between the captain and Stoudenmire, I don't seem to have taken one.
Please explain the spartan kick on the genestealer, was he the only person to win a round of combat against it all week end?
Please explain the spartan kick on the genestealer, was he the only person to win a round of combat against it all week end?
CaptainDangerous
Officer, without number, head turner, troll burner
Staff member
Yak Comp 3rd Place
Tribe Council
Oh, you don't have one do you? Well I'm just sooo glad to be able to help you out ......PAL!
In the fight between Able seaman 0002 and the stealer, number 2 used his mighty muscle skill of hurl opponent in the turn the genestealer charged, which left it wide open for him to take the close range bolter shot!
It was a hit.......then a wound.......and with the armour penetration of -1 the stealer had to save on a 6!........
Which it did.........
The Spartan kick was just for dramatic effect, otherwise I would have had to explain how he wrestled a 6 limbed killing machine off a four foot wall
For his efforts in this engagement he gained a commission in the medical division, once I get round to it he will be henceforth known as petty officer field surgeon 0002 (or something similar)
THIS IS SPARTA!
In the fight between Able seaman 0002 and the stealer, number 2 used his mighty muscle skill of hurl opponent in the turn the genestealer charged, which left it wide open for him to take the close range bolter shot!
It was a hit.......then a wound.......and with the armour penetration of -1 the stealer had to save on a 6!........
Which it did.........
The Spartan kick was just for dramatic effect, otherwise I would have had to explain how he wrestled a 6 limbed killing machine off a four foot wall
For his efforts in this engagement he gained a commission in the medical division, once I get round to it he will be henceforth known as petty officer field surgeon 0002 (or something similar)
THIS IS SPARTA!
Poor POFS 0002... his new skill means he's more likely to be the first to die... "Game over, man! The medic is dead!"
CaptainDangerous
Officer, without number, head turner, troll burner
Staff member
Yak Comp 3rd Place
Tribe Council
WOOP WHOOP!
Iv had three root beers to celebrate!
One for my homeboys, all the Yaks of the UK
One for all my Yak Brethren from across the pond
And One for all Yaks great and small wherever you may be!
CHEERS!!
Iv had three root beers to celebrate!
One for my homeboys, all the Yaks of the UK
One for all my Yak Brethren from across the pond
And One for all Yaks great and small wherever you may be!
CHEERS!!
WOOP WHOOP!
Snap bro!
I was also told to provide photographic evidence upon receiving my shirt or the yak police would break down my door, confiscate it and administer some "hive justice"
Thanks!
Snap bro!
I was also told to provide photographic evidence upon receiving my shirt or the yak police would break down my door, confiscate it and administer some "hive justice"
Thanks!
Hi guys. I’m starting to draft the THUNDERCUBE mini game, if anyone has photos that aren’t already on this thread or in the gallery please post them now and they might make the pdf!
CaptainDangerous
Officer, without number, head turner, troll burner
Staff member
Yak Comp 3rd Place
Tribe Council
The first ever move of the first ever game of THUNDERCUBE!
The sell out final for the opening day!
The captain (RIP) watches from his premier seat!
The crew watch from the more economy stands
Day 2 commences
Boris the butcher, primed for his hat trick victory
.........?
What's this ......the upstart Pitt the elda charges into the fray....
The crowd gasp as he leapfrogs the intelectual and takes out both opponents!
The mighty Boris is laid low by a crack shot by ALX-gr8! But his reward is a quick drilling by the elda!
The sell out final for the opening day!
The captain (RIP) watches from his premier seat!
The crew watch from the more economy stands
Day 2 commences
Boris the butcher, primed for his hat trick victory
.........?
What's this ......the upstart Pitt the elda charges into the fray....
The crowd gasp as he leapfrogs the intelectual and takes out both opponents!
The mighty Boris is laid low by a crack shot by ALX-gr8! But his reward is a quick drilling by the elda!
@Malo if this is ever happening I would be more than happy to do some of the legwork! I don't know any players but if something like this was being organised I'd love the opportunity to meet some
CaptainDangerous
Officer, without number, head turner, troll burner
Staff member
Yak Comp 3rd Place
Tribe Council
Just do it maxwellrpower!@Malo if this is ever happening I would be more than happy to do some of the legwork! I don't know any players but if something like this was being organised I'd love the opportunity to meet some
If not you, who? And if not now, when?
Even if it doesn't work out, what will you have lost compared to what can be gained?
Just set up a thread purely to see if there is an interest and just go from there!
I mean, how awesome does TRIBEMEET AUSTRALIA 2018 sound!?
And although I'm not the most reliable (I would say right now, but I think just generally is more appropriate
), I am more than willing to offer any advice or support that I can! *rimmer salute*
You know what @CaptainDangerous? I reckon you might be right on the money there
I'll be hitting you up for some advice and guidance for sure
I'll be hitting you up for some advice and guidance for sure
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