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Starship Captain
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Post by sonofccn » Thu Jan 20, 2011 5:19 am

Yep another halfrear attempt by yours truly. Rate and comment, please :(

Chapter I: Blood of the Emperor

Commander’s Log: Sighted four pirate raiders, engaged same. All four destroyed, moderate damage taken. Returning ISS Judgment and escort Destroyers to starbase to effect repairs. End Log.

Commodore Krevin had finished in the top ten of his class, which didn’t sound overly impressive until once factored in the sheer number of pupils that were fed into the ever hungry maw of the Imperial Star Forces, enjoying a meteoric rise upon graduation until a stray brush or two with death. An actual true death since the brash zealot ready to land down with a blaster in one hand and thermal detonator in the other was far different beast than the indeterminate aged gentleman lounging in his private quarters drinking his traditional cup of tea and listening to bland background music. His blaster hand wrapped around a data slate displaying a rather saucy penny dreadful with the mostly exaggerated damage report of the Judgment minimized in the corner just in case anyone interrupted his solitude.

Which they shouldn’t, while none of them were on any respectable officer’s high list since they’d been banished to the outer rim duty they were all long term veterans with numerous battle experiences and more importantly knowing how to survive them. Unlike the eager dogfaces still damp from the Academy minting who could barely tie their shoes together much less deal with the elusive and wildly Rebellion he trusted, and his crew expected themselves, to handle minor day to day affairs without him breathing down their necks. The pirates, the pursuit of and much of the battle, had been carried out without him or even his second in command Tyler being present. His most important decision of the skirmish, besides going back to port to enjoy their shore leave facilities, had been to scuttle the fourth pirate vessel instead of accepting their surrender and all the paperwork which that entailed.

The verifications of him interrogating the prisoners, the duplication and triplication of holo-logs of same, the subsequent paperwork entailing if the leads obtained were truthful, if his suspicions of their allegiance was correct, if he had used illegal interrogating methods, etc. Far simpler to shoot the unlucky pirates and claim suspected loyalties than bring them aboard to confirm. His bridge crew in full agreement so he had little to fear or disturb him on that score.

What concerned him, as little as that meant, was what he planned to use to bribe the station tender to ensure a long stay over at the starbase. Bases this far from the Empire proper were frequently short on supplies and skill, the best talent and the most up to date droids being farther coreward, which could easily explain any delay but the managers charged a heavy price for “renting” one of their berths. This could be in the form of black market credits, as Tyler preferred, or merely exchange for other goods either contraband, exotic alien wares from far off worlds or basic parts to help refill the stations chronically low stores. While not at the forefront, the nubile damsels stripping in the water on the pages of the story taking the larger part of his focus, in the back of his mind he was calculating how many bottles of wine he could spare versus how much he could steal from engineering before Zarkon got riled up when the door to his quarters opened and Tyler entered without any announcement.

Before being black listed Tyler had been another golden boy, another fresh faced lieutenant bucking to control the destiny of the entire star fleet in their hands. Only a few classes behind Krevin himself his future second in command had risen from lowly bulk cruisers to the imposing Star Destroyers to being in the offing to command a then still unfinished super-star destroyer class before his gambling addiction, running of black market and embezzlement of Imperial funds and hardware had come to light. Deemed to skillful to pitch completely, and the evidence just a hair too light to be proof positive, he’d been reassigned to an old Victory cruiser which only improved his resourcefulness and managerial skills Krevin had found so vital when he rescued him for the Judgment.

Which was to say he was a smooth and steady hand on the tiller on those rare occasions the crew required someone of executive grade to be present. The normally rock steady man looking like Mike Donner, the ground assault commander, had thrown him a punch or two. Short of breath and his complexion taking on the oily sheen of perspiration he drew up before Krevin.

“ Just came over the Holonet, all channels…the rebels…couldn’t believe it! I couldn’t but…its being confirmed across the galaxy.” Tyler gasped in broken fits which made little sense to Krevin as he sat his data slat down, being sure to punch up the schematics first, and stood up.

“What happened? What’s wrong Tyler, you didn’t look like this when you were facing the commission’s noose.” Krevin implored his subcommander, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder as he tried to guide him to some sense.

“The Emperor…The Rebellion broadcasted it across every channel, still are…the Emperor, Krevin, is dead. Him, Vader and just about all of Emperor’s chosen favorites. Some kind of trap…the vile, scum sucking Xeno loving Rebels ambushed them all somewhere or maybe the Emperor pulled it but they just got lucky…He’s dead Krevin, he’s dead.” Tyler bawled tears, actual tears for goodness sake, threatening to form in his watering eyes.

“Oh. I see.” Krevin replied drolly, having over the years redirected his undying love for the Emperor to more healthy pursuits like keeping from assuming room temperature, unlike the nine zealots ahead of him in grade would have said if they each in turn weren’t buried in some memorial.” That is bad.”

“Bad! The last defender of everything decent, worth preserving in this galaxy and those lawless radicals killed him. They’ve ripped the soul out of the Empire, the military channels are reporting mass revolt on hundreds, maybe thousands of worlds, Rebel attacks flying out of the woodwork and worse half the Star Force appears to be aiding them.” Tyler said momentarily recoiling from Krevin’s indifference.” The general order being issued to each and every Imperial vessel is to report to the nearest Sector command. To sustain and strength our key points of strength until we can regroup and avenge this travesty.”

Krevin could only nod and hope he put up a convincing mask of sorrow as he reiterated how bad the grim situation was. It seemed to please Tyler who seemed to regain some of his composer, not much but sufficient for the Commander to no longer need to rest his hand on his shoulder. Feeling foolish for letting it linger there, swept up as he was in the sudden commotion, and making a point to smooth out his crisp and wrinkle free uniform over and over again as Tyler turned to lead him back to the bridge. Which had already been directed on the new course Krevin learned when he asked, but as Tyler stressed during a crisis of this magnitude he would be needed to anchor the entire crew. To give them something to hold onto in the turbulent storm ahead and many other boiler plate Imperial rulebook garbage which apparently deep down beneath the cheat, thief, and smuggler exterior Tyler honestly believed. Perhaps he hadn’t been as good choice for a second in command as thought.

“Very well. A tour of the ship starting with the bridge crew. Let them see that nothing, no matter how great, ruffles Jake Krevin.” He boasted right before the first of the hyperspace mines went off.

Krevin thrown to the deck plating as the Judgment nearly capsized crumpling his uniform as the second and third detonated. The mighty ship lurching in the other direction slamming Tyler and the Commander into a bulkhead, both falling back to the floor as the ship rightened herself. The last thing Krevin heard before he lost consciousness was the whine of the hyperdrive as it rose from an omnipresent background noise easily overlooked and forgotten into something that played painfully with his temples. The throbbing pain reaching its crescendo as he, and his ship, flared a brilliant, pure white and vanished all together.

The pounding on the sealed door grew louder, the piece of piping wedged between the door and the ring shaped clasp squealing as the two metals scrapped, as Hans Shmidt kicked himself through the air through the cluttered cabin and pulled himself into one of the three seats fitted into the tapering room. Strapping himself down with the harness by mechanical rot before turning to the dimly glowing consoles, reaching past the dials and levers which controlled the rocket assembly all of which the things had sabotaged the instant they came on board and instead flipped the switch on the wireless. That, thank the Lord, hadn’t been tampered with crackling to life almost instantly and helping drone out the moans and thuds coming across the thinly armored door.

“I can still call out…” Hans spoke to himself, who else was their now to speak to, laughing a cold, clammy laugh to himself despite the situation.” Imagine me, sending a distress code. Normally it’s those yellow belly freighter captains. Not this time…not this time.”

Glancing back at the door, which now shook with each and every blow directed against it, he turned on the recorder and prepared to type out S.O.S., after all due to distance of the nearest ship period a repeating simple message was best, when he glanced at the radar screen cheerfully beeping in the background. He nearly jumped with joy, straining against the straps chaffing his neck and shoulders to get a better but it was still there. Ships, not just one but three of them. Huge, ungodly huge, the smaller pair measuring a kilometer if they were a meter, of a pattern he didn’t recognize. Either the Americans had made enormous leaps without anyone’s knowledge or…alien but he didn’t care. Anyone, anything, was better than those things. Those horrid things, what they did to his crew…his poor crew.

“Unknown vessels, this is Shmidt, Han Shmidt, captain of the freelance freighter Endless Fury. I am in danger, my ship taken, my crew slaughtered. Please, help me.” Hans prayed into the radio, releasing the mike and listening to the steady, unbroken static which filled it.

He tried again and again switching to English, Greek and what little school boy Latin he still remembered. He tried begging the silent ships alternating with the most spiteful curses and insults and the deepest cordial wishes. Each time his ever more frantic screams and shouts were met with the hiss of nonanswer. Until he heard the pipe behind him finely slip free into the air and heard the rusty hinges of the door swing open, Hans’s body trembling as he swiveled in his chair with his leg to face it. To face what floated in the doorway, more of the things waiting in the wings, and slowly glided towards him.

“The feast. You will join the feast.” The thing drawled as Hans drew his service Lugar from its holster.

His hand didn’t tremble than as he placed its cold, unflinching tip against the side of his forehead, cursed the dankest pit of hell where these things had been dredged up and fired. The gun coming from his grasp as his arms became like seaweed, spiraling above his bobbing head through the crimson cloud fanning out over the bridge.

Please Comment *shakes tin cup* come on I'm dying here ;)

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Post by Lucky » Thu Jan 20, 2011 11:15 am

What series are being crossed with Star Wars?

Admiral Breetai
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Post by Admiral Breetai » Thu Jan 20, 2011 12:28 pm

I'm not sure what series your crossing with but damn those two dudes had to have had the worse days in history lol

good intro post the death of palpy affected that man big time heh

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Post by sonofccn » Thu Jan 20, 2011 1:21 pm

*yeah a new record* :)

Thank you all for commenting. As to the series well...its my own private one I've been tinkering with, off and on, since last year. I hope thats okay.

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Post by sonofccn » Thu Jan 20, 2011 5:30 pm

Commanders Log: Situation…delicate. System wide failures reported across the Judgment, including power and even life support failing on the outer edges. As well as turbolifts forcing myself and Tyler to report to the bridge on foot. On a personal note I never realized just how long a seventeen thousand meter warship actually was until now also it appears Chief Petty officer Squire didn’t defect as I previously noted but got trapped inside one of the emergency lattice chutes two years previously.

The bridge was a bustle of activity as the meters thick durasteel door slide out of the way allowing the two red faced officers to half fall into the command room, what seemed like a thousand voices swimming around the panting Commodore as repair parties checked in with the bridge crew and vice versa. So engrossed were they in tapping their consoles or up to their waists inside of them yanking out charred wires and crisp fried electrical board, with the occasional spark and cursing, that the barely organized maelstrom of chaos didn’t realize the commander’s presence until his voice cut through it like a broadside raked against a blockade runner’s deflectors.

“Status? Just how bad off are we?” Krevin asked, already bracing himself for subsequent quakes as the Rebels brutal X-wings closed in for the kill, tone surprising even keeled save for the lingering traces of exertion.

“In as few words as possible? We’re Fethed. Completely.” A grease smeared Shanulas answered appearing from beneath his station.” The turbulence upset the power core, before safeties tripped it stopping all of us from becoming ionized gas the dang thing surged our electrical systems. The Primaries are fused solid, Engineers are manually bypassing to auxiliary pathways but that’s takes time.

A rarity on a warship the good Dr. Shanulas had hailed from the scientific community, cutting his teeth for the Star Fleet’s service aboard a science vessel dedicated to observing and analyzing the latest Imperial weaponry. Like the rest of the crew he had fallen far from grace with the movers and shakers of the Empire but at least his had a noble grain to it. Four or five years previously he had objected to the testing of new concussion missiles, double the yield of previous ones the same size, on a pretechnological society. Made a fuss all the way up to the Emperor about how the short, furry bipeds living on the forested moon were an endangered species. A galactic snowflake of no threat to anyone or anything and in the end, at the cost of his career, it had apparently worked.

“ I really didn’t want to hear that.” Krevin answered back as the bridge lights dimmed for a moment, returning with about half of the consoles whirring to life.

Shanulas’s station included, the science officer bending over it and keying up reams of data as the communication officer reported an incoming message from the Wraith one of their escorting star destroyers. Audio only the young, boyish officer said almost apologetically as the Commodore approached his position.

“ Y’all reading this? I say Judgment are you receiving my little old transmission? Ambrose are you sure you’ve patched the com properly because I’m just getting static from the Big J.” Came the sharp, distinct, twang of Captain Jackson over the bridge’s loud speakers which was about half the volume it would be if the officer hadn’t been separated by the void of space.

He, and most of his crew, came from a deep space set of colony world from the southern edge of the Empire’s sphere of influence. Which besides a butchered form of basic entailed a lack of proper volume control as well as a certain stripe of headstrong stubbornness. In Jackson’s case at least it was also literally true, having head butted a Wookie into submission before being evaced to have both his limbs grafted back into their sockets.

“We are reading you, Captain Jackson. I repeat we are reading you.” Krevin answered placing a hand to his head, feeling his migraine returning.” What is your situation?”

“We’re busted up six ways to Sunday but my boys are taking care of the mess. We’ll have her spit shined and polished lickity-split. Y’all situation?” Jackson boomed making more than one junior officer cup their ears.

Krevin, pausing before answering, glanced over pleadingly at Shanulas still busy collating the data being routed to him. The science officer shaking his head in a silent and grim manner when he caught the Commodore’s glare.

“I’m afraid our situation is still a bit touch and go at the moment.” Krevin answered slowly.” I can’t pin down a definitive answer from my teams. But suffice it to say most of our primary systems are down, including sensors. If you have anything I’m afraid we’re down to the mark I eyeball over here.”

“Sure as Shinola sir. Long range scanners are still banged up but locals are up to snuff. None of those pesky rebels are in range, at all. Not even so much as a scout fighter so y’all can rest easy on that score. The only thing within a fifty thousand kilo radius are a pair of tiny alien vessels interlocked but you needn’t worry about them.”

“How can you be so sure?” The Commodore asked, hoping no one noticed the slight tensing of his voice.

“Ambrose key up the specs for the commander, that’s a good lad. Just hold for another second and we’ll transmit the key points too you. As y’all will see both ships lack deflector emitters, are armored with low grade titanium alloy and the one that is armed is equipped with an extremely low yield particle cannons. We here are detecting minimal power outputs from either vessel and no life readings. A pair of TIEs could stand off these two.”

As Jackson spoke the com board chirped announcing the arrival of the technical information specified which was smoothly transferred to the overtaxed Shanulas station for his overview. Krevin than interrupted Jackson’s vain boasting of having already dispatched a boarding party for the two ships, just in case there was a fight to be had, to inquire about the Talon II and was informed the ship was fine through after a brief respite it had lost its communication again, shortly after making contact with the Wraith as a matter of fact, something the Commodore found enviously agreeable as he thanked the ship’s captain and cut the channel.

“If he calls back, I am indisposed with the tactical situation.” Krevin warned the com officer as he retreated back to the beleaguered Shanulas studying a flickering holo model of the two ships.” Well?”

“A fairly accurate if hyperbolic assesstment. The two crafts are propelled by crude, chemical rockets and are armed with what appears to be oversized laser cannons. Even in our present condition we can outgun them or outrun them should we need too.” Shanulas answered with a shrug dismissing the projection and turning back to his screens.” I’m afraid however that is the extent of the good news. The power core wasn’t just shaken up, it nearly imploded itself even with the safeties. Without starbase facilities I don’t think we can fix it, worse the annihilation of hypermatter is the sole method to generate the needed power a hyperspace jump for our mass requires.”

Krevin tried imagining cramming the tens of thousands of soldiers, technicians, engineers, pilots and the rest on the two diminutive star destroyers and scuttling the Judgment less she fall into Rebellion hands, plying them back across space teeming with insurrection. Than he thought how the surviving Star Fleet, hemorrhaging material and likely low on ships, likely wouldn’t grant a new commission for someone who lost one of the most powerful ships of the fleet to a puny Rebel strike. A most unsettling thought he banished with a violent shake of his head as Shanulas continued to stare at him expectantly.

“Have the store rooms been damage?” He asked at last.

“No sir but I’ve already checked the proper materials to patch up the power core are not among our supplies. They should have been but their appears to be a discrepancy in our manifest.”

“Well than since everyone else is busy, slip down there and fix me up a kettle of tea.” Krevin ordered turning around to the vast legion of stars shining in through the bridge window.” I have a feeling its is going to be one of those days. Like the Jedi had on the founding of the Imperium but worse.”

Squad leader’s report: After completing two revolutions around the conjoined crafts, pilot detected and approached what appears to be an airlock of some kind. It than took another twenty minutes to configure ours to seal with it and another ten to burn our way through with the laser torches. Breeching imminent, shall add additional following survey of the two vessels.

Ribbons of red and white sparks erupted from the solid, steel like door, drifting off to die in the cold, dark ship like fireflies, as the cutter traced a crude circle through it. The stream of fiery embers dying away, as all things do, a few moments later when the circle was completed, the double glowing edge left to cool as the bulky torch was pulled away and the soldiers lined in preparation. The ship growing silently again minus the slight bending and twisting as metal expanded and contracted while they waited for the red hot metal to cool only to be filled with an echoing thud as the metal slab was kicked out of place.

Flipping through the air end over end much like the helmet of the first storm trooper who leapt in, fighting vertigo like nausea as he felt the reassuring pressure of one gee slip away and his jump carried him across the cramped room to the sealed bulkhead across. His armor clattering as he smacked against the steel door, reverberating inside the confined space as the others in his squad more nimbly kicked themselves in. Looking almost spectral like in the pristine white armor floating a foot or so off the ground, Squad leader Samuel tapping the two nearest to him on their shoulders and gestured with his hand first at the first one threw and than the door he floated upside down in front of.

Both going to their tasks without a word as Samuel pushed himself up slightly and snatched the loosened helmet slowly gravitating back towards the transport, the point man presented sheepishly to the squad leader while the wheel lock to the door was undone taking back his helmet with humiliation.

“Seal the blasted thing Rookie, if the rebels had strung up a gas grenade for us you’d be trying to breath through liquidated lungs right now.” Samuel scolded in a voice as cold and void as space itself as the younger man fitted his protective gear back in place.

“Aye sir.” Rookie, a nickname he had but little choice but to endure, answered respectfully, his head held a little downcast.

He’d been hoping to impress them all when he volunteered for be the first one through, thinking he was ready for anything. Except the grav-plating being off, what kind of fool built this vessel that the gravity could be knocked out so easily? On a proper vessel, M-class standards being so necessary for smooth conduct, gravity had triple and quadruple, fail safes with each deck its own emergency power cell.

Falling back into the formation behind the squad leader Rookie watched dejectedly as Screwball, a Clone War veteran, finished the lock’s rotation and at the slightest nod of Samuel’s head pushed the door open. Nearly a dozen carbines trained outside the tiny room as first Screwball and than the others drifted out. Signaling each other with hand gestures, for even the inner com of their helmets could be used to give away their positions, as they drifted into a curved hallway spinning around in each direction out of sight to the other side of the tubular craft.

The walls a rat nests of greasy pipes, exposing wiring with scored rubber insulation patched up with tape, rusted hand grips jutting out at odd angles and a general layer of filth which manifested itself on long voyages without proper filtration of the human oils and dead cells released constantly. In roughly the center, a few feet off side the airlock, ran a third passage all the way across it seemed revealing a grubby looking ladder running the levels above and below them.

According to the crisp blue outline displayed in the corner of Samuel’s vision it was the sole means of doing so, a grievous design flaw, so with the slightest gesture he took Rookie and two veteran squad mates towards it as Screwball took up position on the left flank of the corridor covering them. A nearly identical trooper doing the same on the right while the rest held the two hallways under gun. They in turn moved forward once the ladder had been secured, Screwball being the first to climb up its worn rings towards what was hoped was the bridge, in this way the squad kept themselves in each others range and sight.

The scent of blood, filtered and diluted through his suit, was unmistakable as he reached the top, the old clone having lost none of his spryness as he flipped out of the hatchway and sailed through an agape dented bridge door into the miniscule flight cabin. Almost immediately colliding with the globules of red plasma which were floating around, staining scarlet splotches on his armor as he slowly turned back around towards the door. The crest of his helmet scraping the low ceiling as he lifted it up following the red markings scrawled over and over again in different languages from the top of the doorway’s bulkhead. All written in the same medium freely floating about in the broom closet sized control room.

“Father Dragon rejoice, partake of the flesh of the sacrifice. Take their hearts, their sinew, and their minds. Father Dragon awaken, indulge in the never ending feast.” One which appeared to be in basic proclaimed in shaky script.

“Crazy rebels.” Screwball grunted, as unnerved as he ever got, as his teammates began to filter up and he turned his focus back to the ship’s controls.

Through calling them that was an insult to instrumentality, the clone doubted that even twenty-five thousands years ago anyone had to put up with such archaic materials. More deeply intimate with all aspects of military technology, thanks to his unnatural birth, even antiques he was able to deduce the primitive sensor scopes the vessel possessed as well as guidance and weapons systems, such as they were. With Rookie’s help he systematically disabled them in turn, nothing permanent but so that it would be time consuming for anyone who bothered, ensuring the ship couldn’t be the slightest threat to their harried squadron.

“Everything’s locked down, sir.” He announced when he was done.

“Good, lets move down deck by deck. Something happened here, and I want to know what.” Samuel ordered as the squad reformed around the hatchway and began to disappear down it.

The search of the previous floor turning up nothing but refuge they proceeded to the one below that. Crew quarters it appeared as they entered the ring shaped room, through the flickering of the dingy lights recessed into the ceiling did make that judgment difficult. Tiny alcoves were etched into the wall, slender berths only realized to be sleeping arrangements when Samuel reached in and found, among a series of restraints free floating, a stiff, rubber pillow glued to the back of the coffin sized alcove. He also inadvertently disturbed a netting bag tied in there as well causing a swarm of loose change of unknown origin, a gaudy ring, as well as a score of flat, 2-D images coated to a fragile cardboard frame to billow out and engulf the squad.

“Lived like rats.” The squad leader remarked swatting away the debris in his path as he moved to complete the room’s revolution and move on.

The others muttering similar agreements as they followed him except Rookie who lingered in the refuge thicket. Raising an armored gauntlet up through the mess and plucking a singular pictorial card out of the air and held it up in front of his visor, unsuccessfully trying to adjust to the frequently changing light source, for a better look. A blonde little girl crouched behind a large, furry quadruped nearly as large as she was while behind her a dark haired woman sat on a park bench smiling warmly. Beside her stood a blond man of roughly comparable age in a military uniform of some sort looking ill at ease at being photographed but none the less beaming with pride. Turning it over he read the short inscription written on it.

“Gretta’s acht Geburtstag, 1949” Rookie mouthed the meaningless words, taking note of the slight discoloration on the back in the same rough size and color as teardrops.

Flipping it back he coached himself over to the upturned net and sealed the photograph back inside. It just felt right he thought pushing away and looking for where the squad had gotten too when Corporal Stuart called out he found something. The young soldier, nearly as young as Rookie himself was, at the far end of the curve back near where the ladder was hefting out as Samuel turned the corner the pale, rigid body of one of the crew. He was a little on the shortish side, balding with a pair of old fashioned spectacles tied to his head with a piece of elastic. The eyes behind it closed, against his chest he held a piece of parchment where a short note had been written and in the other he clutched and empty vial. The foamy spittle around the man’s lips leaving little doubt on the manner in which he’d left this galaxy and if anyone had bothered they would have found high traces of cyanide in both his blood and the bottle.

“Humans at least, couldn’t have been dead for too long.” Samuel remarked placing his gloved hand onto the man’s cheek and observing how much force was required to turn the joint.” Something spooked him, Rookie bag his note. Maybe we can translate it back aboard the Wraith.”

Letting the corpse go he pushed it back inside its sleeping berth and ordered the squad to move on to the floor beneath. This one, more than twice the size of the previous chambers, apparently a cargo hold of some kind. The still, listless air the storm troopers passed through as they descended reeking of death, of blood and bile. A pungent, sweaty aroma hanging over thing, almost palatable as the squad took up positions around the ladder. Worse there was a sickly sweet odor in the air which Rookie couldn’t place but the others, experienced with hectic ship battles, unfortunately could.

“It happened here.” Screwball announced to no one in particular as more of the blobs of blood, darker and more matted together now, brushed against his once clean armor.

A virtual cosmos of human jetsam circled around their heads, interspersed with the twinkling of hollow, metallic cylinders as alien as everything else was about this ship. Again it was the clone, scooping up a stained handful from a crimson nebula oozing past, which identified the obsolete technology, recalling to them how wars in the distant past had been fought with slug throwers.

“A lot of different calibers…the size of the projectile. Different firearms threw heavier or lighter loads.” Screwball explained holding up his handful to his face and picking through everything from tiny handguns to rifle to canister shot.

“Each one of these was a separate shot?” Rookie asked gazing at the hundreds of casings which floated around the empty holdings.” I would have thought that would be enough to kill a Rancor.”

“Enough, lets secure this area.” Samuel grunted fidgeting with his carbine as he led his men towards a mammoth sized airlock, four times the size of the one they had crawled through, which took up most of one side’s wall.

All the doors open through far from inviting, the outer bulkhead around the titanium door scrubbed with bloody messages. The words Father Dragon, feast and Masses the most repeated through far from only written across. Beyond that locking doors lay the second ship, a blank canvas of darkness without a solitary light as Samuel and the others drew near. His equipment beginning to filter through it, layer by layer removing the shadows, as he approached the rift which stunk worse than the bay itself. Several of the troopers, experienced all, choking inside their masks, Rookie nearly ripped his off to relieve himself until a cold glance from the squad leader stifled him. Made him put his rebellious stomach under control.

The leader than turning back to the doorway, through the cluttered and filthy bay on the other side, at an object gently rocking against a crate tethered to the floor. His visor reducing the distortion, digitizing the image as he made out the pair of spindly arms crested over the thing’s puckered chest, legs which swayed as if under a current, and a bald down turned face impossibly lean. The head flicking up, staring at the squad with its watery, gray eyes, twisting the contours of its mouth into a smile before it dove over the crate and out of sight.

“Welcome to the feast, so kind of you to join us.” It cackled from somewhere deeper into the darkness.” Please help yourself. We certainly will.”

“What the feth was that? That wasn’t a Rebel!” Stuart cried recoiling from the thing’s presence.

“Get a hold of yourself. It’s a hostile and we know how to handle hostiles.” Samuel, thankful for the cover of his own fear induced spasm, declared holding his carbine up and switching from stun to heavy kill.” Remember Xenologists only need something the size of your little toe for Ident purposes so don’t make their job too easy.”

“Aye sir.” Everyone responded, their weapons chiming as they similarly switched them, following the squad leader as he lead them across into the abyss…

Starship Captain
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Post by sonofccn » Sat Jan 22, 2011 4:33 pm

Just a short excerpt this time

Judgment bridge:
The bridge was a bustle of commotion as Krevin paced around the crew pits, like some mighty deity gazing down at mere mortals toiling at their station, as it usually was but instead of the latest match caught on the holonet or a wild shore leave tale told to young, impressionable junior operatives the tones were more pained, the syllables more emphasized. The muddled whispers he heard were of things like unexpected delays, of how many people the rumor mill had stated had been pulled half frozen from the ship’s outer edge or burnt to a crisp due to waste heat since the point was to reflect the fickle and all important grace of the life support not technical accuracy, even talk about the Emperor and what his loss would mean for humanity.

Sounding depressingly too much like Tyler, who had managed in duty to regain some of his composure, sullenly brooding in one of the crew pits elbowing a technician out of the way as he monitored a repair crew posed near the outer skin of the great starship trying to bring back online the sensor arrays. Currently the team foreman was coming dangerously close to arguing with Tyler on regards to a respectable time table. Something the subcommander was in no mood to listen too or put up with.

“ Every minute we sit here without sight is another for the feth loving Rebels to sneak up and vaporize us. I will not allow that to happen, not now, not when the Empire needs every ship and loyal crew it has in this dark time.” Tyler barked into the intercom as the lights and terminals dimmed for a moment as they had been doing for the last several minutes.” We’ll have a scopes station checked out and ready in five, I expect results by then.”

“Sir, it can’t be done. We’re nearly done checking the lines coming through the ship but the sensors themselves, the service droids take time. They need fifteen minutes to unbolt and pull out the hardware bulb, another five to internally diagnose it and then another fifteen to put everything back together after reaching a verdict. They can’t work any faster.” The Foreman pleaded.

“I agree.” Tyler answered glancing up at the Commodore who paused on the gang plank above.” Prepare your team for a space walk, you’ll relieve them.

“Sir we can’t possibly, in bulky Eva suits…I mean we couldn’t do it less than thirty minutes sir. My men can’t do it…”

“Yes they can, unlike droids they just need encouragement. Tk-524, relieve the Foreman of his duty.” Tyler ordered one of the stormtroopers who had just walked in on them, the engineer barely having time to gasp before the screech of plasma and the crackling of burning flesh filled the airwaves.” You now have three minutes and thirty-five seconds, I advise that they are not wasted.”

The Foreman’s replacement sobbingly giving his compliance as the subcommander switched off the com line. Leaving orders to the understandably nervous officer to reestablish it in ten minutes before walking out of the crew pits up to the observing Krevin. Who smiled a tired smile as Tyler saluted and explained the sensor issue would soon be resolved, the commodore counting as he spoke how long it took for the hum of the bridge crew to resume. He’d got to fifteen before the regular white wash tickled his ears subsiding the worst of the fears prickling the back of his neck, content even at that little normalcy as he and Tyler resumed walking. Needing to appear ever vigilant, ever alert less the crew lost heart, if only the fething science officer would return with his blasted tea!

“It’s been nearly a full standard year before you had someone “relieved” Tyler. I can’t say I know which repair team is specialized in sensor repair but the Foreman had to be good at his task, you’d have sold him off to a Hutt slavemaster otherwise. If his men couldn’t do it in less than thirty minutes he no doubt was right.” Krevin ventured craning to look at the subcommander and gauge his reaction.

“These are trying times, an important part of the crew, a core part, has been destroyed.” Tyler answered after a sharp inhale, voice warbling and cracking slightly despite himself.” They need to understand that the spirit of the Emperor lives on. That there will be order!”

That last word rising in octave as Tyler’s voice broke once again causing a silence in the bridge crew who all turned to stare. The Commodore waiting, being sure to keep his face deadpan, until the voices resumed before answering his second.

“You know there is no one I rather have on my side during a mutiny than you but…I’m afraid if you keep this up their won’t be any crew left to enjoy this order.” Krevin said tactfully.” During times like these the Empire can hardly afford the loss of experienced crewmen afterall.”

“ We’ve played cards too many times for you to be able to bluff me Krevin.” Tyler said as for a moment a familiar twinkle returned to his eyes, just a fleeting glimpse before being submerged beneath the murky depths of his red eyes.” You nearly scared stiff, are you afraid I’ve lost my marbles?”

Krevin, walking once more around the bridge, felt his mouth hang open as he thought about how to answer that. Trying to read Tyler’s face and failing just like he had hundreds of times during those late sessions where he’d squandered a healthy amount of his pay to the card shark. Finally in desperation sensing the subcommander growing agitated in his delay as well as walking within range of a pair of stormtroopers flanking the bridge entrance he chose to answer the same as he always did when dealing with Tyler. He put the biggest cheese eating grin he could muster and laughed.

“I hardly expect you to go to pieces and grab the nearest blaster like a thousand poorly scripted holo-vids.” The Commodore replied.” I merely have a dispute over whether your disciplinary measures were justified. I believe it does fall in my purview, I’m still the technical commander of this boat after all.”

“Of course. You needn’t worry, I am not about to do anything to let down the spirit of the Emperor or you.” Tyler answered as that glint returned, lingering longer this time as the two completed yet another revolution about the bridge.” Relax, you always were too cautious for your own good. That’s why you’ve had to hand over so many of your credits, trust me that I know what I’m doing and I know what the crew will endure.”

Krevin didn’t but didn’t press further. Acclimating once more into his stoic self with surprising speed he was similarly growing more entrenched in his positions without the maelstrom of emotion to unsteady him. While still light-years from how he had been just an hour previously, a man who rarely smiled on duty and never raised his voice, there was that old germ of something in his voice which made the Commodore want to believe him. A kernel of mild mannered confidence which was infectious, flowing into him like a good bottle of wine leaving him feeling well and untroubled without justification.

“I’ll leave it at your leisure but remember. If they revolt it’s your neck, not mine, they’ll want.” Krevin quipped, needling him for a reaction.

“If they rise up, they’ll deserve it.” Tyler replied smooth as silk without the slightest treble, now if his eyes weren’t still red and threatening to burst forth like dams.” Be calm through, soon we will have returned to the bosom of the fleet and then…and then we shall truly spill blood.”

Krevin could only answer with a sufficiently blood thirsty “yes” as he broke stride with his junior descending back into the pits to wait by the science station while Tyler went back to hassle the engineering team. Feeling the few bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he feared his bluff being called, of Tyler realizing he had no more intention of going toe to toe with a rebel fleet now than he had in years. While the current situation, and the humiliating defeat he would suffer if he botched how things went, had fairly blotted out other still more phantasmal thoughts his subordinate’s remark caused them to blister back to the forefront. Chiefly on how to pull a cushy rearguard action guarding a non interesting planetoid or something as well of disposing of his tried and trusty second in command if he didn’t snap out of it.

A pity if he was forced to, the man’s skills at command when warranted, attention to detail as well as his impeccable trait of doing Krevin’s share of the paperwork highly sought after talents that few of the knee-jerk brain dead graduates possessed. Just as well really the Commodore mused as he tapped his foot and glanced anxiously at the bridge doors, what was the point of impressing upon a person managerial skills when in all likelihood within the first six months he’d have fought a needless, warrantless battle against the rebellion to the last man. The rebellion all too willing to grant them that privilege, filling planet worth’s of plaques and memorials and the like of “heroes” of the Empire.

“A bit sad this latest bother is going to increase it all by a fold or two.” Krevin muttered to himself as finally Shanulas arrived bearing a cup and saucer with a steaming cup of tea.” Of course there is a pretty credit or two in selling memorial plots to the government. Couldn’t hurt to look into the realty side. Can’t be a Commodore forever you know.”

“I’m sorry sir, were you addressing me?” Shanulas inquired descending down the ramp towards his station.

“What? No, no just thinking out loud.” Krevin answered snatching the refreshment from the man and downing half of it in a greedily swallow.” Thank you, what with the situation and Jackson it felt like I had a gunboat inside setting off charges.”

“Thank you sir.” The put upon science officer said without feeling as he returned to his station where his work had been greatly growing in his absence.

The most important of which was the sensor logs regarding the final milliseconds of their hyperspace flight. He started looking that over again, trying to make sense of the readings the overtaxed sensors had recorded, activating a holo emitter on his terminal replicating the attack as a visual aid. He had gotten to his third performance of the short clip, specifically after the third mine when the power surged and Cronau radiation increased by a factor of a thousand fold, before Krevin who had lingered by his station cleared his throat to get the scientist’s attention. Holding up his empty cup to the doctorate holder as he pressed upon him the need for a steady supply of his precious tea.

“Sir, with all due respect I believe I am more use to you here than carting up cups of tea.” Shanulas answered after he recovered for a second.” Surely you could have a galley hand do this task.”

“I couldn’t do that. They are busy running hot drinks to the repair teams crawling across the breadth of this ship. I can’t ask them to pause and traverse a couple of kilometers both ways to bring me a piping hot cup of tea, with turbolifts out at that.” The Commodore explained as he handed the scientist his cup and saucer.” Now you are a man of science, the studying of unexplainable phenomenon and the like. Unfortunately Imperial records have more than twenty-five thousand years to draw upon, there is not a quasar left in the known regions that hasn’t been mapped, checked and double checked. As it is your duties, besides your personal research, that take up your time here are drawing upon your experience with the war department ensuring our turbolasers are calibrated at 98% efficiency or greater. Something of not great importance with half the ship out.”

“I see sir. Very well.” The science officer said clicking his heels and turning to return to the galley once again, more than a mile of chutes and squeezing between malfunctioning emergency bulkheads which had been wedged open.

Dejectedly but still prideful the scientist began to trudge up the plank clutching the Commodore’s Alderaanian tea cup protectively to his chest less it break on the long journey. He made it to the gang plank above when he heard Krevin call back out for him, and he turned around optimisticly.

“Maybe you could bring the tea pot with you this time…and maybe some kind of hot plate from storage so it doesn’t grow cold at your station.” Krevin demanded to which Shanulas meekly answered “yes, sir” too.

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Post by Admiral Breetai » Mon Jan 24, 2011 8:53 am

I like the dynamic of Krevin and those under his command, and what are these crazy sentient eating fetishists? are these guys baby cthulus or something?

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Post by sonofccn » Thu Jan 27, 2011 4:36 am

Sorry for the absence of updates but I've been feeling down in the weather these past few days. As it is I'm posting half of what I intended for the scene with the rest, hopefully, hopefully coming thursday. Thank you for your patience.

Unknown second alien ship:

Despite the insulation of their armor the air felt warmer as they swished across rusted interior door with peeling paint crumbling off in clumps, denser as well almost like a soup. It was nearly as heavy as the fetid reek of spoiled meat permeating the stale atmosphere of the cargo room, Samuel clutching a moisture glistening gauntlet reflexively to his helmet as he heard a series of coughs and gags erupt from those behind him. Seasoned veterans hunching over in midair wrapping grayish-white fingers around their black sealed necks threatening to rip them off, Rookie managing to keep his own until he swam to a corner of seeping pipes and loosely billowing wires relieving himself of his phase III helmet along with what appeared to have been a fairly large meal.

“Sorry.” He said not meeting his squad mates eyes afterwards as he slide his mask back on, being sure to breath out of his mouth until he did so.” Sorry.”

“Cut the chatter Rookie.” Samuel choked out trying not to breath at all, and loosing badly.” Turn on your thermals, free floating. Emperor knows what these alien’s body temps are.”

“Not that it matters.” Corporal Stuart complained running two fingers over his visor’s eye slits which had began to cloud over with water droplets.” Between the heat and humidity our sensor net couldn’t spot a proton torpedo.”

That got a few hearty approvals from those who had been plunged into life or death fights on jungle moons across the galaxy, a simmering hell of strangling vines and instant death. Samuel among that number, his actions there greatly responsible for him being out on the outer rim, but regardless they had a mission. Silencing Stuart with a stare he struggled to raise his hand up through the air pressing down all over and split his party up. Two of them he ordered to stay back at the airlock to catch any filthy aliens they flushed back while teams of three snaked their way between corroding steel pipes and coiling wires spewing from conduits which already had covering from both edges as Samuel’s two man team floated on ahead.

Drifting over the cargo containers, some of them stacked with braces and clamps two or three crates high, the ultrasound sensors of his suit informed him were empty both of blood thirsty alien rebels as well of actual merchandize. What it didn’t tell him, what he found out from the ones which had been left open, was the dried blood liberally painted over the interior that was flaking off slowly adding to the festering stench of the ship as well as the well worn scratch mark into the boxes walls. Samuel’s enhanced vision allowing him to make out the pale slivers of fingernails still protruding from some of the grooves cut through the substantial steel over the course of hundreds of victims.

“ Mercy.” Someone starting to gag crackled into the squad leader’s ear.” Rookie’s lunch isn’t the worst thing we have to wade through…”

“Its’ on the walls…by the Emperor they put it on the wall!” Someone else said before his channel devolved to retching.

“Stay frosty Emperor feth it!” Samuel cursed reaching the ladder and wrapping a hand on a rung, which he now realized wasn’t merely a steel construct subdue by rust.

The lattice stretching up through a grubby porthole carved through the roof and a grimy sinkhole beneath a dull, ugly burgundy from the packets of wispy flesh left sticking to the blood stained bones whittled and shaped together with industrial adhesive. The strips of decayed meat and muscle swaying like sea anemones around Samuel’s grip which he tightened, silently repeating his order to himself over and over again, and beckoned his troops forward with a wave of his blaster. His previous meal feeling as heavy as lead as he subsequently pulled himself up passing among other things that he recognized without his wanting to part of a jawbone wedged between part of an arm bone and a femur. His men rising up after him, Rookie sounding like if he hadn’t already emptied himself he would have as he gingerly touched the rotten ladder helping to pull himself up.

“When we see these fething xenos…I’m going Tarken on their hides. Full Tarken.” Stuart boasted tapping his carbine against his armored chest as he did his best to float without touching the morbid staircase.

Slowly rising up through the hatchway just ahead of Screwball, who unlike the rest carried himself quiet and professionally hefting himself up one handed as he held his blaster ready in the other, who was the only thing which kept the Corporal from dunking back once he made sight with the room. The old clone pushing his way through like a space whale and forcing the younger soldier to kick off near the adrift Rookie hunched over and gagging some more. Also drifting in a slow circle but with a more purposeful gait was Samuel wordlessly looking at the “canvas” running across the walls, ceiling, and over the irregular angles where walls and sleeping berths had been broken free. The “material” stitched together, again without reason or rhythm with seemingly any two random bits, with barbaric surgical wire even the most backwater planet would not have used and otherwise left alone in the moist and simmering atmosphere greatly contributing to the stench etched down to every last atom of this accursed ship.

“At least we know what happened to those in the crate.” Screwball remarked flatly, gliding away from the hatch as more troopers poured in, taking up a position beside the squad leader.

“Yes…” Samuel muttered watching with bile inducing fascination as something black as tar and as slippery as egg yolk pushed itself free from its bacterium infested holdings swaying partway into the air, against which it was invisible to his thermals, before curving down and vanishing into a wrist clamped over what had once been a lady’s throat.

Nor was it alone, looking around him at the mutilated remains he saw more of the creatures emerging and submerging in their oceans of flesh leaving rancid, puckering wounds in the strewn corpses. Dozens with several times that slithering beneath causing the already bloated flesh to pulsate just a little bit more as the things roamed feeding on the soft, runny tissue, Samuel watching one bulge in particular travel up the side of man’s face cresting at a hollow eye socket as the radio in his helmet chirped causing him to jump slightly.

“Samuel! You ready me boy? This is Jackson, I say again son, this is Jackson what is the situation?” The Wraith commander boomed as the startled, spinning commander leader tried to get his heart rate under control.

Ordering two of his men with a hand gesture to clear the next section, which they complied after a moment’s hesitation, and without correcting his rotation answered the ship’s commander. His eyes, flawlessly aided by his visor and refusing to linger on the haunting images they found, slipping from the men around him, the two floating up to the hatchway above as well as the inhuman display itself. Wait, hadn’t that one’s hand been on the woman’s neck Samuel thought to himself as Jackson’s cannonade voice resumed in his ear.

“ Sounds like y’all really stepped in it this time. How do you want to proceed, son? We got a pair of little old bombers just awaiting on the hanger deck if you want to abort.” Jackson thundered as Samuel drew his teammates and his own eyes towards the ceiling with a sharp turn of his head where a head of one of the victims had broken loose twisting on its peeling neck in the swampish air.

Towards the two rising up the ladder system the squad leader noted with the vise in his chest increasing another notch. The soldier once again confirming his suit scopes read nothing with so much of a heartbeat before he could continue through the fact it also failed to detect the slugs did nothing to ease his mind as the body in question drifted from his sight.

“We have it under control sir. Only one sighted alien, unarmed, and the ship is small.” Samuel reported as he turned doing a double take at the missing arm’s reappearance.

Something floating at the end of its dry, withered fingers, something with a long thin tube on its end composed of metal and wooden materials. Something which looked an awful lot like a blaster despite a failure to detect a functional power cell and was it merely the rustling of air which caused the long dead tendons of the fingers to sway? No, couldn’t be as the turning commander saw the body on the ceiling break free and with a couple of ungainly but powerful strokes reach and wrap around the second of the two he sent on ahead. The other, halfway to the floor above, bending in half and reaching a hand down as his partner went spiraling away from the ladder which was how he missed something off to the side of the deck above drop without a sound, his only warning as something each as big as an arm clamped on the top and sides of his head with the strength of a press. A cloud of red engulfing the hatch and the trooper before his pasty, white legs vanished up into it as he was hauled away.

“We’re under attack!” Samuel screamed firing full auto up through the hatch, which was quickly enveloped by stinging droplets of molten metal and acidic smoke, watching helplessly as the second stormtrooper attacked had a large but blunted weapon shoved beneath his armored chin which was erased in a hail of lead pellets.

The alien than leaping off of him, weaving with fish like grace between the plasma bolts as the slaughtered man’s comrades tried to avenge him, succeeding in only pulverizing the already fit to burst corpses and shredding their compatriot. Entrails colliding like an asteroid thicket as the creature somersaulted through the air, dispatching an empty casing with a metallic sound pump of his weapon, and flipped himself onto the ceiling where he vanished the instant he ceased to move.

“They’re coming through the walls! They are coming through the fething walls!” Stuart screamed twirling around through the scarlet mists as two brothers in arms flopped wildly away from him with streamers of blood to fire at one such creature leaping off of the bulkhead.

He squeezed the trigger of his carbine, already set for maximum fire, blowing fist sized holes through half a dozen corpses as he finished swinging it around, as well as scorching the metal beneath, unleashed geysers of steam which would have scalded anyone without protective gear which the creature sailed through unblinkingly. Shrugging it off as its own midsection exploded, bits of bones impaling themselves into the trooper’s armor, as it stabbed a blood stained knife where his helmet sealed with his suit’s armor and tried to club him the smoking machine pistol it held in the other.

The knife thankfully glancing off as Stuart twisted away from the snapping creature, arching his back into a near “U” shape as he slide one white gauntleted hand beneath the thing’s desiccated chin, rubbing bits of dried skin off, and with jamming his carbine into the blast hole for leverage hurled it off of him. Spraying the air full of blaster bolts once his gun was free of the thing’s guts, completing his gravity less spin as he tracked over his horrid projectile positive he scored another hit on its gamy flesh before it reached the far wall. Twisting its neck over its shoulder, which loosely drifted beside it held only by a singed tuft of skin, and hissing more with annoyance than anything it changed gun hands, reloading as Stuart switched to single and took better aim.

A good chunk of the thing’s back splitting open along with much of the neck turned to boiled vapor rocketing the head with a wet splat against the gory ceiling like an old fashion cannonball and drift away as the body went as dead as a smashed droid. Floating aimlessly through the carnage, being shot by both sides, as Stuart wildly swung his weapon around trying to find a target amid the jetsam of bleeding soldiers convulsioning in the currents of the air, flying laser shots radiating incandescently on their lethal voyages, the shroud of mists these bolts released and the loosened remains like his own kill adding to the quagmire. Around him all was chaos…

To be continued

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Post by sonofccn » Mon Jan 31, 2011 3:40 pm

…but like a beacon through it Samuel’s voice cut through, anchoring the wild Corporal amid the maelstrom of horror as it did the other troopers battling for their lives. Stuart flipping around to catch sight of the squad leader as he remerged through the gore and debris, heralded by Screwball catching one of the corpse-aliens snapping its back against his boot while vaporizing the beast’s snarling visage with a plasma bolt. The clone throwing the whole thing aside, where it hit the befouled wall with a splat, as Samuel swam passed both he and Screwball now firing behind them at some other lurker performing acrobatics across the room duel wielding slug throwers.

“Fall back to the shuttle! Fall back to the shuttle to regroup!” Samuel ordered over the suits’ intercom as the thing’s upper torso, bisected by twin blasters, clutched at the sepulcher like wall and scurried up it leaving its lower half behind.

“By the Emperor its time! Move it! Back down the hatch!” Stuart screamed turning and smacking a gloved hand on the nearest storm trooper only to have the man rotate towards him revealing the half of the mask and underlying face the buckshot had disintegrated.

Startled the Corporal ruined the dead man’s feature’s further by driving the butt of his carbine into it hurtling the body backwards like a missile past the desired hatchway to be swung aside again by the trooper there preparing to disembark. Grabbing hold of the human mad ladder firmly and firing indiscriminately at the moving shadows both real and imagined he quickly began to descend to the next berth, sinking down past his waist before some impossibly large, black vile thing reached for him from the floor above. A fleeting glimpse of elongated blubbery flesh which wobbled and shook as blaster bolts ripped meaty chunks from it to no avail. An ivory prow stretching open as the leviathan descended engulfing the trooper’s blaster arm and much of his torso before these same granite like pins clamped down hooking into his flesh. The man still screaming as he was hauled away to the floor above, trails of blood contaminating the atmosphere, where they ended to the sounds similar to a pair of dogs fighting over a scrap.

Stuart pausing to watch a leg gently and lazily bob back down, before a slightly smaller big thing snatched it back by tossing it back into the air and swallowing it, for an instant before a thrown slug skipped over his shoulder’s armor cratering it and two more burrowed through the chest of the stormtrooper rushing past. Jets of scarlet shooting out as the man spun around in front of the Corporal as he kicked the body aside and dove for the hatchway.

Elsewhere amide the sticky mists and floating gore Rookie sprayed full auto into a wall as he swept along beside it drawing out the living corpse which dwelt there amid gouts of pressurized steam of half vaporized flesh. Gaunt and rancid it swished about through the scalding vapors, losing a leg rot had mostly gnawed away, with one hand grabbing and pushing the carbine away while the other grabbed the back of Rookie’s helmet and pulled it until his visor was mashed up against the putrid thing’s face with its yellowed teeth scraping the paint off of his armor. Giving the young, inexperienced soldier a far too close look as the thing’s neck swelled with turmous growth and the stale green flesh parted open like rose petals blossoming as one of the leech things chewed its way out. Leaping through the gravity-less void to the trooper’s face as its siblings began to erupt from the surface from all over the cadaver like alien, following the suite of the first as they jumped to their fresh host who, screaming, snapped the fetid thing’s hand off at the wrist and shoved the still clenched barrel up through the foul demon.

In the process cutting open the thing’s chest partly revealing the extent of his infestation, Rookie forever after plagued by nightmares by desiccated, green organs riddled with hundreds of flesh hungry black things, before a spraying of plasma incinerated the thing’s upper body. The thing’s other hand falling by the wayside as the still screaming Rookie kicked backwards from what remained of the corpse ripping his helmet off of his head and throwing it asunder as the leech crawling through finished gnawing through the final layer of padding.

Opening and closing its tiny mouth in vain aboard its erstwhile voyage as Rookie, beads of sweat flying off of his fevered brow, balled a fist and began striking at the other horrors, grinding their soft jelly bodies to a fine gray paste over his white armor. In one instance, feeling the tri-ringed mouth break through, he jabbed his blaster into the wiggling side of the hungry, fiendish creature and used that to lance the blight away, bits of molten globules of his scorched armor piercing his flesh instead of leech’s bite but that was infinitely preferable in his opinion suppressing a shudder at what he thought he saw.

Clamping a hand over the simmering hole, fearful it and the resultant blood might attract more of the thing feasting in the hung bodies, Rookie pushed on towards the hatchway pausing only to inspect a trooper’s body floating past but with his bloody and cracked front piece even the green raw recruit knew it was hopeless and shoved it aside. Pressing on alone to the freshly bloodied hatch and glancing cautiously above where he thought he saw movement just beyond his range to coalesce threw himself down to the floor below and, hoped for, salvation.

Back above through the sheets of crimson Samuel and Screwball waded forward, the elder clone taking the lead as he cut away gun wielding hands, leering faces and swinging legs in a hail of burnt ozone. Some were long dead and would have remained so even if their brains hadn’t been atomized to a fine mist others, like the firing ghoul which Screwball had ended by shoving his lower jaw up through his head, clearly required his more thorough touch. Behind him the squad leader swam one hand on his carbine which was never still but dancing around his body creating a protective sphere of death and the other curled up against his helmet as he shouted over the din into the headset.

“Stuart repeat! I said repeat! How many are with you?! How many made it to the next floor!” Samuel demanded swerving around an eviscerated storm trooper.” Stuart answer me!”

“ Say again sir! Did not copy!” Stuart spat back, his message laced with ever growing blaster fire.

Hardly reassuring nor was the sight of giant, mucus dripping glob of tar which shot down from the deck above to snatch a vanishing trooper’s leg in its parrot like craw yanking him back up. The soldier, being drawn up into the upper berth, latching out with both hands for the passage rim’s with a jarring thud which broke the seal on his helmet. The visor floating off revealing the grim, white faced soldier beneath fighting to maintain his grip with his last breath before what had snared him pulled him up with a snapping of ligaments.

“By the Emperor!” Samuel allowed himself to curse, drawing a confused reply from Stuart in his ear, as he swerved again through the air, avoiding the worst out of a hail of pellets with his armor stopping the rest, and fired a spray of plasma into a scuttling horror.

The thing, in flames, running up the wall to the ceiling as it pulled more pellet shot off of its roasting body for its double barrel. Slamming its old fashioned and primitive weapon shut and twisting in its perch after the departing squad leader just as Screwball, shooting into a corner at the hatchway in blatant defiance of the creature’s above, turned his arm and fired behind him at the creature catching it squarely in the chest where bandoliers of the pellet filled slugs resided. The result as tens of the crude weapons cooked off not unlike the effect of an E-web on organic matter as the rotten creature was dispersed in a brackish hued nebula. Bits of it sticking to Samuel as he rushed to the hatchway, a hand still at the side of his helmet.

“Understood Corporal. Began falling back to the airlock, Screwball and I will catch up.” Samuel ordered reaching the rim the same time as a disembodied head lost in the charnel did.

The head, turning to grace the squad leader with its puke-green face, twisting its putrefied features into an impossibly large grin as a moldy eyelid slide over its stale eye in a wink. Its features then slackened as it mouth dropped open, Samuel just barely perceiving the slightest hint of something inside the decayed maw stirring before the vile thing leapt out. Its tiny jaws sinking through the helmet’s lens which cracked and shattered as the leech vanished through, to be replaced with burgundy tendrils.

“Confirmed, Rookie and I are falling back but you better hurry. They don’t want to stay below.” Stuart radioed the corpse as it fell backwards, body all a twitch, and drifted against the obscene wall.” Sir?”

“The Sergeant is down.” Screwball answered calmly as his armor was chipped and broken around him.” You have your orders.”

Reaching down to his utility belt the clone continued to fire around him and pushed off from the hatchway leaving a cloud of red in his wake. Reaching his superior as half a body dropped down from the ceiling into a spiral firing with both hands as he went, more armor breaking across Screwball’s shoulder as he turned his carbine onto the creature and wasted it. Exploding it into chard flesh buying him a moment’s respite with the sergeant who had began to mumble to himself. Talking of pain as a hand limply scratched at the side of helmet, streams of blood rising from his broken visor, of a creeping itch but most of all of a hunger.

“Its okay sir.” Screwball whispered drawing the thermal detonator from his belt as a bullet broke his neck seal in a spurt of biological plasma, priming it as held it between his body and Samuel’s.” You can stand down now. We both can.”


“Feth!” Stuart screamed as a shipquake sent him reeling into the moist trappings of the cargo bay wall, bits of the soggy mess sticking to him as he broke away.

Beside him a panicking Rookie, pushing himself away from a blood stained crate, rhetorically demanded to know what that was through the slightest look back even with his unaided eyes allowed him to see the things rising up from the floor below like wrong spirits breaking free from the earthen clod of their mausoleum. What Stuart saw, of the misbegotten shapes scraping past on the ceiling or walls, moving more simian like than sapient on the loose bundles of wires and conduits defied rational speech.

“Just move!” Stuart ordered placing a hand on his subordinate’s back and giving him a shove, both lurching forward as the first bullets began to toyingly crack around them.

Turning back around as he swam forward, and treated to a digitally enhanced view of the bloated sacs tracking after them, the Corporal fired a burst of bolts one of which struck one of the engorged things. The resulting force smashing it like an insect before a hammer, its swollen belly popping open revealing dozens of arm length things which uncoiled themselves basked in the heat of the creature’s demise. Some snatching rancid mouthfuls from their former host as he broke apart but the rest, after briefly adjusting to their weightless environment, sped like spaceial torpedoes after the only two things still with living body warmth.

“Fething Emperor!” Stuart cursed rushing through the cargo bay doors.

”What? What!” Rookie screamed looking back and immediately wishing he hadn’t.

Turning back around as rifle shots deflected themselves off the hatch ladder in a shower of sparks the young soldier propelled himself upwards to the next section with Stuart right on his heels shooting all around them. Darting up through the crew quarters, where the far sighted man had taken his life, Stuart kicked shut the steel dome cover as half a dozen screeching, hungry mouths shot up for him. Their soft, squishy bodies making a hollow noise as they in turn crashed against the hard, thick metal shaking it up and down but not flipping it over. The barrier holding them as the two stormtroopers shot up to the next floor, at least until the fat things caught back up with them.

“This is Corporal Stuart to Shuttle, read me loud and clear! Open the airlock doors, we are coming in hot!” The soldier shouted into his helmet as they shot up onto the deck, the same instant as the hatch below was pushed open by an withered, desiccated arm, like a cork and frantically paddled across to the entranceway.

“Situation?” Came the bored, regulatory voice on the other end.

“Fethed! Do you read me Fethed! Now Fething open the airlock or I swear to the Emperor I will feed your entrails to a Rancor!” Stuart shouted as the vipers shot up into the air and gracefully turned after them, their ugly bodies wiggling like mad as they flew straight as arrows after the two.

“No need for that.” The voice crackled as Rookie and Stuart rushed through the outer doors of the lock, the door to the shuttle soundlessly gliding open.” I’m opening it now.”

“Close the door! Close the Fething door you Emperor ignorant lout!” Stuart abruptly shifted as with a shove he pushed Rookie through the opening door and squeezed after.

Looking back as the eel-mouths raced after him and farther back at the hatch a rancid hand pushed through clutching a repeater followed by a balding, green skinned face with its leathery skin pulled back into an awful grin. The eels were closer however and as he and Rookie fell down against the airlock door under the stifling grip of gravity he gazed up as the snapping jaw things tilted their approach and dove after them. The first of the pack passing through the doorway as the motors reversed and it began to seal catching it, the thing’s rubbery body split into a messy two against the durasteel lined bulkhead as the door slide back into place.

The inner door to the small cubical opening a moment later and a disgruntled and visibly annoyed pilot appeared, his words leaving him as saw the half of the leech which had made it inside flopping about on the deck floor and vainly biting into the air with its jaw. Black viscous liquid oozing out of the ragged other end, more so as Rookie slammed his heel down on the creature as the two wordlessly stood up and shoved their way out.

“What was that?” The pilot demanded as something smacked against the outer door causing him to look up from the broken smudge to the door.” What was that!?”

The noise followed by similar sounds as well as the ricochet of slug throwers and beastly moans, the bloated meatbags fighting to continue after their prey. Instead of answering his question however Stuart, switching the com frequency in his helmet, merely ordered the pilot to pull free from the ship and return to the Wraith.

“Because in thirty this ship is going to be free floating gas.” He answered when the pilot questioned him.” Wraith come in, this is Corporal Stuart, come in! I now you’re out there, please respond.”

He was greeted with line static, silence, and his own morbid doubts regarding if there was anyone truly left that wasn’t a pile of rot and pus beside him and Rookie and the idiot pilot before finally Jackson’s unique and rattling voice filled his senses.

“We read you son! We read you, Stuart you said? Corporal Stuart? We read you, you mind telling us what’s on your little old mind?” Jackson thundered sounding as if he was in the tiny shuttle shouting.

“The two alien vessels are contaminated with an alien biological, I’m requesting a couple of heavies vaporize the entire mess.” Stuart, taking a seat as the auxiliary craft rocketed forward on thrusters, calmly ordered.

“Son, that is a mighty messing responsibility you seem to want placed on your shoulders. I’m afraid Y’all can’t just go ordering a barrage without confirmation of you NCO, can I speak with him? Corporal?” Jackson asked.

“He’s dead sir. The things killed him and the rest of the squad with the exceptions of myself and Rookie sir. I am the senior non commissioned officer and am in charge of my squad. I am requesting that you blow both ships back to hell, one of which we didn’t disable and trust me sir you don’t want these things getting to a planet. They make Wookies look like house pets.” Stuart answered agitation rising in his voice.” Now am I getting my fire support or am I going to have to crawl inside a bomber personally and do this, sir?”

“Request approved, just wander your little ship out of the blast range and we’ll finish this Corporal.” Jackson answered after a lull or two to converse with others.” Sounds like Y’all bought the hornet’s nest this time. After your cleared by med-bay and have rested I want both of you to join me at the commander’s table. Give you both a proper heroes welcome.”

So Admiral Breetai, and anyone else who reads this, what do you think so far? Remember any comment or idea is welcome. Please* teeters on tricycle juggling while balancing cup on nose*?

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Post by Admiral Breetai » Mon Mar 07, 2011 1:02 pm

what do I think so far? that it's like if Lovecraft dropped some LSD and saw a script for alien and and Star Wars and decided to do a cross over his way

is good is scary is intimidating is better then anything I could write KEEP THIS SUCKER ALIVE MAN!!

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Post by sonofccn » Wed Mar 09, 2011 3:12 am

Sorry for my general laziness and lack of writting. I hope this tidbit isn't too bad for such a delay.
Admiral Breetai wrote:what do I think so far? that it's like if Lovecraft dropped some LSD and saw a script for alien and and Star Wars and decided to do a cross over his way

is good is scary is intimidating is better then anything I could write KEEP THIS SUCKER ALIVE MAN!!
Thank you from the bottom of my corrupt, blacken heart. :) All I can hope is that you heed your own advice and keep your story alive as well. You can't leave me hanging after shedding first blood like that.

II. Fallen Sons…
“We plant a flag on another planet and we beat our chest in exhilaration. Same regardless of who it is, we have the Imperium racing an ever greater number of rockets through the farthest reaches of the ShipNet, America boasts to the highest heavens of teaching the Venusian savages “democracy” or building a bigger bomber, we have the Europeans congratulating themselves on a victory against an isolated Martian fiefdom and everyone seems to forget. Everything we’ve accomplished is from the ruins left by far greater beings, we are just the maggots feasting on the corpses of past, more advanced, civilization and one day, one day soon, we will run into a descendent of one of them. I doubt very much they’ll look upon what we are doing to their sacred past very well and I wonder what all these jack boot jackanapes will do then?”

Bridge of the Judgment:

“Sensors should be up within a few moments.” Tyler said with dripping pride thankfully interrupting Jackson’s voice blaring which Krevin was eternally grateful for.” Long range included.”

Left unspoken of course were the number of bodies now orbiting the outer hull of the Judgment but if it allowed the Commodore to get a word in edgewise against the verbose and gratingly loud commander of the Wraith all was forgiven. Through Krevin did make a mental note, as Jackson’s voice returned to vibrate his sinuses, to have a word with the surviving repair crews. Nothing major, just a few uprising words shared in “confidence”, but hopefully enough that should they seek retribution of blood they’d stay their hand with Tyler.

“Yes Commander Jackson, I’m arranging a patch as we speak.” Krevin, jostled from his thoughts solely but the pleasant lull and the instinctive scurrying to take it before the man thundered again.” The moment we have a return of our sensor systems it will be fed directly to you. To the Talon II as well as a matter of fact.”

“ The little old “T” got her com problem fixed? I knew the rascals were too good to be kept down, or did y’all give them a little help? Big man George is too proud to accept help from me, had an entire shuttle just itching to launch even, but you might be able to hold him down to the skillet and talk sense to him. Anyway I’m grateful y’all are providing us with telemetry, frankly all this sitting and fretting about what the rebellion is plotting leaves me cold. Sooner we’all get back to the fleet the better.” Jackson said making more than one person on the bridge wince and cup their ears.

Krevin meanwhile glanced back over at Tyler mouthing to him to ascertain how much longer the process would take. The subcommander in turn, looking much more like his old always sure self, calmly held up five fingers and began to slowly curl them up. On the curling of his little pinky the bridge lights dimmed, the colossal power needed for the high intensity scans being diverted, for a moment and previously blank terminals screeched to life with trillions of bits of data scrolling past. Leaving the com station, which erupted with another colorful distortion of basic as Jackson complimented Ambrose handling his end of the transfer, the Commodore headed towards the navigator’s desk. Pausing only to catch Shanulas attention, hunched over his station still reviewing their faulted hyperspace jump, and gently rattled his empty tea cup against his saucer. The message clear the scientist, with clear and evident distaste, meekly nodded his head and began to shut down all the information cluttering his work station only to stop as by chance his eye caught the details of what was being entered into the ship’s memory banks. Down deep into the crew pits however with his focus shifted Krevin didn’t notice or the puzzled look growing on some of the other technicians sitting around the nonplussed navigator eyeing the unfolding star chart.

“Have we determined our location to the sector’s regrouping yet and prepared jump calculations?” The Commodore inquired to the strangely silent and focused young crewman.” We might have to dare running a ship for reinforments.”

He of course didn’t want to even consider turning up empty pockets to whatever ragtag group was being assembled, rightly fearful that no matter the odds the die hard fanatic commander who’d want to avenge the Emperor would somehow be the highest ranking survivor against an armada of more seasoned and practical officers. The sort that might just hang the Commodore who fretted away a super star destroyer and even not wouldn’t be likely to hand the Judgment back to Krevin once it was repaired. He did however want to keep options open and “bravely” taking a star destroyer, which he would dutifully harp upon the unexpected Rebellion attack and the threat of roving blood thirsting marauders, very well might turn out to be a better option than stuck in a back water solar system with a now lame SSD waiting for a Rebellion task force to stumble upon them.

“I’m afraid sir…I’m afraid that’s impossible.” The navigator answered slowly not from fear, through he no doubt felt it as he sensed Tyler approaching, but from disbelieve at what his eyes kept telling him.

“And why not? The Commodore just gave you a direct order, why by the Emperor would you disobey it? A miscalibration of the sensors, perhaps?” Tyler asked with a sharp edge to his probing tone.

“No sir. The readouts…I can’t find our position anywhere. Nothing correlates.”

Feeling his stomach pucker as if punched Krevin stood silent and listened as Tyler informed the starting to sweat officer that he wasn’t making sense. The entire galaxy was mapped, at least good enough to give a rough idea where the squadron had ended up, to which the quivering but strong willed navigator briskly responded that was the issue. The entire galaxy had changed from the arrangement of stars within the ten light year radius to the far off and inmutable twinkling lights farther away which had guided sapients for untold generations. All of it was altered, different, mutated from how it had been when they had set sail.

“Shanulas?” Krevin finally spoke after Tyler had pushed the navigator aside and began to study the data for himself, turning towards scientist deeply engrossed with his readouts.

“I know Commodore…I’m detecting readings I’ve never seen before, space phenomena unprecedented in our archives…its astounding…a lifetime’s worth of work…all unfolding before me and we’ve only probed a tiny ten light year sphere…” He answered back fully engrossed with his work.” For instances I’m reading a giant ring in an asteroid thicket on the far side of this system two kilometers across and inside its circumference… space is folding into itself without the crushing gravity theorized to be required its…it’s almost like a door…”

“Shanulas…forget the tea. Get me something stronger much stronger.” The Commodore ordered.

“Yes but the galaxy…the ring…this must be cataloged, analyzed. I finely have an excuse to use my science department and you want me to get you a drink?” The scientist asked incredulously.

“I’m sure it’s fascinating and later I’m sure I’ll be forced to let you shift through it all but right now I want you to go get me the hard stuff. Forget the galley while you’re at it, go to the pilots’ quarters. Never met a person with more reason to smuggle in the best than a Tie pilot.” Krevin answered yielding not the slightest.

Shanulas, tsking and shaking his head, complied ending one of the immediate problems facing the Commodore through he knew the next wouldn’t be solved nearly so easily. Returning his gaze to the navigator, which Tyler allowed back to his station with a huff, he ordered an abrupt shift in their search. The invisible rays of their sensors reeled back from the great abyss of space itself to the local system, trying to find out what exactly he was looking at. All of Shanulas’s talk of space distortions and such doing nothing to ease the pain he felt in his gut since learning that somehow he’d crashed himself very far away from imperial support.

“Locally sir, very little. We have a habitable world a couple of million kilos off to one side, distance too great for the resolution for exact numbers but it appears populated with at least some crude settlement and industrialization judging from the atmosphere. In the other direction we have a crude craft smaller than the ones the Wraith destroyed limping in our general direction at very slow speed. Estimated intercept is calculated at over a day presently. Further out inside a very loose asteroid thicket I am detecting something akin to a pirate style asteroid base near the giant ring. Populated as well but I can’t determine anything else at this range. The rest of the worlds in this system or either dead or gas giants.”

“The other ship, weapons, defenses?” Tyler piped up glad for something simple to wrap his mind around.

“No shielding detected, low quality titanium armor, low yield particle cannons sir like the previous vessel and a pair of railguns. Actual railguns sir.” The navigator answered rechecking his sensor scans to be sure.

Krevin, forgetting himself for one glorious moment, had to fight to urge to boast of stripping those antiquated projectiles for the Imperial museum, stopping himself as it hit him again that for all intents and purposes there was no Imperial museum. Just as well, the way the other two barges had gone up meant it would have been a devil of a task disabling the ship without completely blowing her to ribbons. Forgetting about the practically lifepod like ship he briefly mulled over his two options before his general cowardice prudently advised him that bringing his critically low powered whale of a ship near something his chief science officer had both been unable to identify and drooled over like a child looking at a new toy likely wasn’t the wisest course of action to keep one’s hull intact.

Either the ring would be there later for him to investigate or if it wasn’t then it was probably good he hadn’t gotten near it in the first place, no need to become further lost.

“Order the squadron to the planet, nice leisurely gait so we don’t overly frightened the natives.” Krevin ordered causing Tyler to make a look.

“Imperials shouldn’t slink and from what we’ve seen so far they should drop down and bow to us.” He grunted with a scowl.

“Dead natives are not productive natives. Besides they might be a protectorate of some greater power like several organizations we allow autonomy too because it suits our purposes.” Krevin answered back.” Rest assured if they choose to fight it will be they who will pay.”

That at least seemed to sooth whatever had been ruffled in Tyler and he nodded sharply, turning away with a click of his heels to resume his duties as he saw them leaving the Commodore to impatiently tap his foot waiting for the return of Shanulas.


“Subject appeared at two hundred yards wearing winter camo, Hawkeye fired once cutting the subject down with a chest wound the size of your fist. I ordered my fireteam back up and began advance when the subject rose and emitted a feral scream. Closed too a hundred maybe a hundred and fifty before Sledge opened up with the BAR knocking the subject to the snow frosted ground once more. Sledge encroached against my direct order and delivered two additional rounds from his sidearm as we advanced after him. Subject resurrected again the moment Sledge turned towards us, tendrils erupting from beneath his parka, engulfing the Corporal killing him almost instantly. I ordered everyone back but Pyro who was tasked with igniting the mutated mass the Subject was becoming.”

Slaveship Unending Torment:

Scrag, nervously, nimbly crawled through the tiny cleft like opening to the walkway with almost monkey like assuredness being sure not to drop the small, black rectangle he held to his chest into the murky, black water below. Standing up as much as he could on the salt encrusted gangway, even his starvation induced shortness not enough to keep his head from scraping the curved dome roof of the room, he scampered across reciting the pledge of obedience to guide him.

Taken too young to remember much of his birth world, and possessing only tiny fragments of the glorious time before the dark saucers had drew upon her and enchained his people, the oaths and fealties the taskmasters had whipped him to recite were his only true upbringing or moral guidance. They were all he had to solace himself as he stopped at the midway point of the vast walk way where the rusty guard rail swooned around an oblong console covered with runes Scrag couldn’t truly comprehend but at the taskmasters exacting tutelage he knew which one to press to activate the speaker. The hundreds of “hairs” protruding from his leathery face quivering not with excitement or fear but in search of any vibration, of any pheromone, that would betray the lurking leviathans he knew the crackling of the water mike was attracting. Sensing nothing regardless and well aware the penalty if he tried their patience Scrag leaned in towards the intercom and in his cracking voice spoke to his masters.

“My great lieges, my imperial majesties your favored sons and daughters bring you news from the void. A turbulent rapture of energy has been detected in a system but a short journey aside, truly the source of which would be a crown jewel to your great and boundless empire” Scrag called out to the still and lifeless water.” A recording of the event and subsequent analyze is encoded into a datapad I, your loyal servant, humbly present to you.”

At this he knelt down beside the podium terminal and held his cupped hands out through the railing to the ocean water lapping just inches below. From beneath a darker shadow stirred breaking the surface in a chaotic spray with turned scarlet as the creature grab hold of Scrag. The slave’s “T” shaped face slit widening for one brief, painful scream before he was tore with a jarring snap beneath the railing into the cloudy water. The water churning briefly as it grew redder before turning placid once again, both Scrag and his datapad being dragged deeper down to be digested.

Admiral Breetai
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Post by Admiral Breetai » Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:41 am

sonofccn wrote:Sorry for my general laziness and lack of writting. I hope this tidbit isn't too bad for such a delay.
naw thats okay I've been remiss too and no ones commenting on our stories besides us, mine might be too badly written and yours too terrifying hah

sonofccn wrote: Thank you from the bottom of my corrupt, blacken heart. :) All I can hope is that you heed your own advice and keep your story alive as well. You can't leave me hanging after shedding first blood like that.
what drove you to write this? are these creatures an original creation?

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Post by sonofccn » Wed Mar 09, 2011 1:55 pm

Admiral Breetai wrote:naw thats okay I've been remiss too and no ones commenting on our stories besides us, mine might be too badly written and yours too terrifying hah
Well they may not be commenting but you've gotten well over a hundred views so people are likely quietly enjoying it like a fine wine. I at least think its a nice romp anyway.
Admiral Breetai wrote:what drove you to write this?
Well the original germ of an idea I had was what the world would be like if Cthulhu had risen in the 30/40's and by some miracle humanity as a whole survived and repulsed the big C. Obviously I've trailed greatly from that point but that was my initial idea of the verse.
Admiral Breetai wrote:are these creatures an original creation?
The brain leeches? Hardly, they are heavily, heavily inspired from Night of the creeps and Slither. Two movies I heartily recomend if you like gory unorthodox zombie flicks with a healthy helping of narm and self-parody. The water creatures? The core germ I swiped from the grand master himself through obviously like the verse they've mutated and grown.

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Post by Admiral Breetai » Thu Mar 10, 2011 2:35 am

sonofccn wrote:Well they may not be commenting but you've gotten well over a hundred views so people are likely quietly enjoying it like a fine wine. I at least think its a nice romp anyway.
I gather some SDners will seethe at the thought of a cosmic calamari running wild all over the GE
sonofccn wrote:Well the original germ of an idea I had was what the world would be like if Cthulhu had risen in the 30/40's and by some miracle humanity as a whole survived and repulsed the big C. Obviously I've trailed greatly from that point but that was my initial idea of the verse.
so humanity over throwing the lovecraft cosmology and the remnants of those guys ending up in imperial hyperlanes?
sonofccn wrote: The brain leeches? Hardly, they are heavily, heavily inspired from Night of the creeps and Slither. Two movies I heartily recomend if you like gory unorthodox zombie flicks with a healthy helping of narm and self-parody. The water creatures? The core germ I swiped from the grand master himself through obviously like the verse they've mutated and grown.
I like and wait with baited breath for new chapters

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Post by sonofccn » Thu Mar 10, 2011 1:26 pm

Admiral Breetai wrote:I gather some SDners will seethe at the thought of a cosmic calamari running wild all over the GE
I very much doubt they'll notice a little fluff of a fanfiction on a modest board. There are bigger, better crossovers to attract their interest.
Admiral Breetai wrote:so humanity over throwing the lovecraft cosmology and the remnants of those guys ending up in imperial hyperlanes?
Well I've altered and expanded the verse having the original germ collide and merge with other ones. As it stands now the Big C no longer rises but a Big C scale threat was in the process of being summoned by Germany/Imperium when the US, possibly goaded by an insidious intelligence, went a little nuts and carpet nuked them. Yeah I swiped that from The Big One but I really liked the idea.

As for the Brain leeches they weren't part of that fiasco and are in the shipping lanes because tradeships are a good way to spread the "infection". Think of them as a junior horror who hope one day, if they apply themselves and kill a lot of innocents, to be upgraded to a full fledge eldritch abomination. Also bringing the Big C his morning cup of blood couldn't hurt. :)
Admiral Breetai wrote:I like and wait with baited breath for new chapters
Well with any luck I'll have the next segment tonight.

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