United Nations Star League vs. United Federation of Planets

[Khas]

Okay, the UNSL from my fanfic "Fluid Power Evangelion" has been made to fight the UFP. They will wail on each other until one screams mercy. How does this go?

Note: Some stuff about the UNSL can be found here: http://www.starfleetjedi.net/forum/view ... =11&t=6326

[sonofccn]

Not well. ;)

The UNSL will likely cut through Star Fleet like a hot knife through butter thanks to things like the Transwarp drive and naquadah enhanced nukes which give one hell of a bang for you buck. Barring the Federation possesing a notable industrial advantage, which is unlikely considering the UNSL appears roughly similar in scope/size, I simply don't see how even post Dominion war Trek is going to stand a chance. Except for Deus ex machina type scenarios but that kind of defeats the purpose I'd wager.

Now, if you'll forgive the impertance of a sugestion, Breetia's Tidesverse UFP, fully recovered from the Dominion war , teched up and expanding outward to new Galaxies, might be able to hold their own and even make inroads. Maybe, depending on how you scale firepower, even enough to take all of it since, if the Tidesverse Dominon is anything to judge by, his Federation has fairly staggering industrial output.

I might also throw out there the Terrorverse GE. Extremely incompently lead but decently militarized with a large reserve to call from. Might be able to scratch out a stalemate.

[Khas]

Not to mention the absolute curbstomp that would be the ground battles. BattleMechs, tanks, WH40K Space Marines, Asha'Man (basically sorcerers), and a dedicated MACO force.

And this is before the Evas get involved. If they do, it's all over for any opposition.

And in space, UNSL starships also possess tetryon weapons, which, in STO, bypass standard shields like they weren't even there. And, going by the fact that the Hirogen use them in STO, and are apparently what they use them in VOY as well, can harm the Undine (Species 8472).

And if the UNSL also calls on its protectorate races to join, well, that's just a whole new can of worms for the UFP.

Now, UNSL vs. Tidesverse UFP vs. Terrorverse GE. Dear God, that would be a Khornate's dream come true.

Wait. Something better. UNSL, Tidesverse UFP, Tidesverse Dominion, Terrorverse GE, and TFC UFP vs. TFC GE. To quote Dr. Richtofen from Nazi Zombies: "So many body parts... I'M IN HEAVEN!!!"

The leaders will be Gendo Ikari, Luther Sloan, Vi'retess, and Mallus Tyler. How does this go?

[Praeothmin]

And their Spec Ops team is lead by James Reynolds, and comprises Riddick, Im'Pec the Silver Hand, Rainbird, Rand Al'Thor, and Sargent Aphorious?

[Khas]

Sure! And let's add Mat Cauthon, Misato Katsuragi, and Gabriel Angelos for good measure.

[Praeothmin]

And the Man in Black as Squad leader?

[Khas]

Sure.

Holy shit, this should be a MOVIE.

[Praeothmin]

Ok, I play James Reynolds (even though I'm 5'8") :)

[Khas]

I'm imagining the trailer now:

[Don LaFontaine]
In the darkest corner of the galaxy, lies the Maelstrom. A giant whirlpool, connecting every universe. Now, five of those universes will collide.

(Words appear on the screen.)
Based on the following fan fictions:
A New Terror
The Long Journey
The Tides of History
Fluid Power Evangelion
Trek Wars: The Furry Conflict

Comes an epic story of a war to save reality.

Now, a band of heroes must fight to save all they hold dear. Or risk total multiversal annihilation.
[/Don LaFontaine]

*various scenes appear on the screen*

*Gabriel Angelos and Pran fighting back to back against Serpent-Men*

*Vi'retess holding some artifact and smiling*

*Riddick snapping a Myrddraal's neck*

*Gendo meeting with the Committee*

*Sloan beaming onto the Musashi's bridge*

*Janeway saying "fire"*

*Mallus Tyler grabbing Shinji by the collar and yelling at him about something*

*Rand's eyes glowing as he launches fireballs from his hands at someone*

*Trollocs boarding the USS Felix*

*Unit-00 leaping out of a giant pool of blood, phaser rifle in hand*

*Gendo holding a gun to Marc Xavier's head, and saying something*

*Undine(Species 8472) Bioships entering planet-busting formation and firing*

*Unit-01's eyes lighting up, and opening its jaws, a crimson light emanating from its throat*

*Brain leach enters some poor sap's ear*

*Misato yelling "Evangelion Unit-02, MOVE OUT!"*

*Captain Kirkinger pointing a gun at someone, muttering "say your prayers", and firing*

*James and Mat being surrounded by mooks*

*Two lightsabers light up, one red, the other rainbow*

*Im'Pec bringing his bat'leth down on someone*

*Sergeant Aphorious lobbing a grenade*

*Some planet explodes*

*cut to black*

*Rei starts glowing pure white, before rapidly growing to the size of a planet, and massive wings come out of her back. She then grabs a Death Star and crushes it with her bare hands*

*cut to black again*

(More words appear on the screen)

The Fate of Destruction.....

.....Is the Joy of Rebirth.

Trek Wars: The Long Journey into an Evangelion's New Terror across the Tides of History.

Coming Soon to a Website Near You.

[sonofccn]

And their Spec Ops team is lead by James Reynolds, and comprises Riddick, Im'Pec the Silver Hand, Rainbird, Rand Al'Thor, and Sargent Aphorious?

Felt inspired so here's a little dribble. Hope it lives up to everything.

“ In the 24th century select individuals from across the universe were discretely gathered by Starfleet intelligence. Their purpose the formation of a crack commando and assault team, their holy charter to go where only devils tread. Their sacred goal to bring to sharp conclusion the Galactic War. If you are the problem…if you’re an enemy of the League of Democracy*…even if you can't find them…you just might be killed…by the Strike-Team.”

* Actual Democracy may vary.


Delmak-


Born a humble human slave but meteorically rising since the falling of Sokar and the coming to power of the Lucian Alliance Overseer Flask stalked into the cavernous cargobay followed odorously by his chief bodyguard and defendant Ghrim. An Orgyn offsoot, neurally reconditioned for loyality, the bloated specimen towered over even the vaulted Space Marines and was a solid slab of coarse, hard muscle. The nasty looking ripper gun he carried, slaved to disengage when intersecting with a transponder the Overseer carried, only adding to the effect. A normal man, feth even a slightly runty Klingon, would be hard pressed to even hold aloft the bulky weapon let along carry it so effortlessly in one meaty paw.

A demonstration on how trival its recoil effects were on the mutant’s physiology as well as the blast’s lethal radius Flask hoped to demonstrate to the negligent service crews who were late filling the arrayed Tel’taks with the harden duranium casks stacked on grav-beds. Each, filled with refined Naquadah, worth a very large fortune to the right customer. Such as the warship entering stable orbit above expecting delivery, customers with short tempers and shorter consciousness who did not like to be kept waiting. And yet the bay was desolate and empty as Flask thundered across it, homing towards one of the shuttles with sat with its doors ajar and barrels of previous Naquadah scattered around it.

“Sokar Bowels! Death will be a release when I find you! ”The Overseer howled, planning on multiple sessions in a sarcophagus for each of them, picking his way through and stepping in.

Stopping short across the threshold, behind him he heard his protector continue unabated knocking aside any of the precious drums which fell between him and his master, as his eyes adjusted to the darken light and he saw the first of the bodies. One of the myriad enforcers, a hired Jaffa, the chainmailed warrior lay huddled against the bulkhead separating the empty hold from the drive compartment. In there more were stacked, like firewood, their throats slit or their chests stabbed and their weapons taken.

A full inspection of the other Tel’taks would have revealed similar scenes as well as a minute discrepancy in the total mass contained within one of the duranium casks. Being a kilogram less than when it has left the refinery earlier that day. But Flask wasn’t thinking of investigations or inventory but of his far more personal and venerable hide as he heard the gruntish cry of his bodyguard as he stumbled.

His gun erupting in perforating showering of flechetted munitions as he reared back up like a bucking bull, swinging the belching autogun and his mailed fist wildly as he sought to shake free from his cyclopean shoulders the nimble man squatting upon it. Flask, strangely numb, finding himself stepping forward from the craft and craning his neck up towards the far off rafters he’d much of silently dropped from. A labyrinth network of exposed conduits, power cables snaking to lamplights and bracketing which obscured and shrouded the upper tier.

Had that how it come, death, to the Enforcers? No fan fare, no glorious feat of arms merely falling across them like a baleful shadow? Such thought was so…diminishing Flask brooded lowering his gaze to stalwart Ghrim. The abhuman gagging on the deep, red river spilling from his torn neck as the lithe assailant slipped and dropped over his craggy shoulder cleaving open the soft flesh of the elbow of his gun arm in the process rendering it useless and then nicked the back of each stubby leg before kicking one out from underneath the giant.

Rolling the other way as Ghrim came crashing down, denting the deckplate and toppling numerous containers which rolled across the cargo bay, and springing steely to his feet. Turning his soulless bald face, his eyes hidden behind lightless goggles, towards the Overseer as he held up his scythe like blade and scrubbed the faintest line clear of the vicious rust colored fluid coating it.

“You made three mistakes.” He taunted, voice like a dying star, as the Overseer scrambled to press a button on his gauntlet.” First relying on a Goa'uld shield device, no defense against low tech weaponry. Two your guard was all glits no substance, I could have ghosted him, and you, the second you stepped in the hanger. Suppressor pistol, right between the eyes.”

“And the third thing.” Flask, cringing, asked retreating into the cornered space of the shuttle.

“Your on this planet.” The man laughed as kilometers distant, in the heart of the urban sprawl’s industrial complex, a Naquadah enhanced thermal detonator went up.

The first blow laid by the uprising underclass of servants and workers who maintained Delmak.

*

Encased in armor, head to servo clad foot, was hardly the most heroic manner in which to wage war but Duras, son of Ja’rod, understood it cut a striking image none the less. The iron shod of his armored feet slamming into the deck plate as he waded his way through the network of corridors which made up the Planetary Governor’s palace, towering over his motley Enforcers by at least a third meter and wielding a “spike gun” it normally would have taken an Orgyn to wield effectively.

He was War incarnate, having view dozens of worlds perish through the helm of his black market CMC-300 suit, survived hundreds of conflicts. The augmented display of his headset allowing him to monitor and regulate his forces already “Stuck in” against the revolting rabble fighting either in the ashen wastes forged by the Naquadah bomb or at the palace walls well as keep an ear to the wider picture across the congestedly urban planet. Across the omnipresent slums of which the plebes, somehow armed, were rising up against the Enforcers and in response General Scar, supreme leader of the martial forces on Delmak, guttural voice ordered heightened security and martial lockdown for the duration.

“At the first resistance kill.” The scaly alien commanded.” There are always more workers.”

Which sounded like a challenge to the Klingon’s ears, opening his suit’s channels to relay that to his stampeding troopers, rushing to join their fellows in burning away the worthless chaff, when the first of the spatial charges lit up. Clever little things, cloaked under simulacrum hologram generator and doused in a chameleonesque sensor mask, their first hint their own immolation. Itself primarily low yield, meant to only propagate the teeth like shrapnel through the passage funneled ranks of the Enforcers. Soldiers, human as well as Klingon, falling with their armor ruptured and seeping, tearing long crimson and purple streaks through the ranks, as each charge in sequence exploded. Back, front, middle trying to herd them together, pushing them to maximize each sequential volley of leaden shot.

“Kahless’s beard!” Duras screamed, shrapnel bouncing uselessly of his dinged armor, slamming a powered fist into a shrieking, staggering trooper pulverizing his skull to mist.” Stand your ground! This is just to disorient us!”

A useless command, made more so by the other barb in the trap springing as the last of the spatial warheads went up. His helm’s scanners detecting approaching life signs and, more important from his viewpoint, an energy surge directing his burning coal gaze to the forward most layers of his butchered force. Bellowing in rage as he saw the first, but far from the last, of the dazed and bewildered soldiers cut down. First by a volley of tightly packed plasma capsules, each punching bloody bowl sized craters through its target, which swept like death’s own blade dropping formerly healthy and whole warriors like spoiled fruit. Then by a biped, a human, leaping with a bone chilling battle cry upon them faster than any being but a jedi or the most juicing of troopers. And there was none of the shakes, none of the jittering movements or glazed purpose of a chem-dog in the tanned, leathery giant storming through the scattering ranks. His every movement, whether to parry a bolt rifle aside with the flat of a tomahawk or effortlessly slice through bone and sinew, as measured and precise as it was swift.

Reaping a bloody trail, severed limbs and heads raining to the ground, towards Duras under the steady and precise fusillade from the gunner. Human like the ax wielder, slightly smaller but more heavily armored, he crouched a several meters down the corridor half hidden behind a junction. A wicked bladed plasma rifle in his capable hands, its old style iron sight raised up to his eye, firing in short controlled clutches before switching targets. Each dwindling further Duras’s shrinking force and increasingly vestige force, broken rabble which parted about the group’s “iron soul” which was the suited Klingon.

Useless cretins he contemptuously smashed aside raising up his gauge rifle or sent flying forwards with a crippling kick towards the approaching ax wielder. Watching the impossibly agile human deft aside the living missile, striking him down with a backwards swipe, delaying him the errant seconds needed to line magnetic rifle upon.

“This is the twenty-fourth century boy, put away your toys.” Duras, ignoring the sudden klaxon on his rear axis, thundered triggering a tungsten spike which could punch halfway through a Chimera transport hull armor.

A shot which never left the barrel, a saber of the deepest nightshade eclipsing over and through it. The smoldering end, and the unspent shot, falling to the deck plate as Duras spun towards the latest adversary. Lunging out with a gauntleted hand which, with a groaning protest, was halted by the immense, helm filling, being’s silver hand. The immaculate and relentless synthetic muscles within in collapsing his own upon itself, dark purple tears seeping out of the buckling wreckage as the great Klingon warrior drew back his broad sword for a killing stroke.

“The Hor’Ghor…” Duras breathed in disbelief at the flawless weapon which effortlessly bisected his armor plate like it was air.

“Yes worm through its nearly a disgrace for blood of a P’takh like you to feed it.” He giant Klingon spat drawing his blade towards him as two separate pieces of Duras fell spilling to the floor.

Resisting the urge to spit upon the honor less cretin Im’Pec, he who had slaughtered gods, strode over him, ensuring to crush his faceplate beneath his heel, laughing with fiery approval at Rainbird’s finishing dispatching the rest of the warriors, now there was a soul fit to feed the breaker of stars, with his assured and undaunted skill. One day, so very soon, they would be put the final test. And Sto-Vor-Kor would sing as two true warriors ascended, locked forever in endless combat, to take their rightful place among the honored dead. Till then they waged side by side preventing any other from stealing the divine prize they sought.

But their glorious feud would late until the Universe had calmed, now their talents and skills needed as part of a larger effort. Alongside a larger army, of which the approaching Master Sergeant Aphorious was one part. Creeping up in a coiled and tense manner, like stalking Targ, with one thickly chorded forearm gripping his battle rifle and the other cupped around his helmet’s mike as he transmitted a tight beam to the other disparate units loose among the Alliance walls.
Each of them, lead by the likes of Huds, Sloan and even Reynolds himself, posed to bring down the brutish General Scar and the Planetary Governor, Alliance Second Feral Magnhor, who held him in a loose lease...

[Praeothmin]

I want to read the completed movie, sonofccn...
Get to it...



NOW! :)

[sonofccn]

I want to read the completed movie, sonofccn...
Get to it...



NOW! :)

Okay a drabble, to with my dribble, because you asked:

“We are customer oriented tailoring our services to your every need and whim. From mutagens to wipe out entire planetary populations to body armor for occupational forces. Everything you will need and more. Delivered with courtesy and confidentiality.” Alliance representative Hagath.

Delmak-

Ignoring the patter of small arms fire, and occasionally heavier shell, the iron-gray behemoth strode through the hanger doors scattering the tiny fleshlings at its steel-clawed feet as it rotated its upper berth after the suddenly cowering tanks. Leman Russ knock offs, pilfered from stocks waiting shipment in that very and surrounding warehouses, lumberingly reversing from the entering metal titans and scattering across the spacious hanger even a feeble bide to escape the sizzling beams of incandescent light which sprang from each of the towering constructs. Each, illuminated by the fiery incineration of the surrounding air, striking at the heart of one of the stout seeming battletanks. Visibly, for those whose perceptions where quickened by the arcane or augmentation, gouging into the puckering, melting metal before each weapon festooned vehicle went up in an obliterating thunderclap. Scattering each as hot atoms and searing ash in a blast which hefted the surrounding thirty ton tanks end over and the fragile infantry aloft as immolating embers.

Burning tears which rained down upon the stark survivors, bloody fools who scampered away from the two war machines just barely squeezing beneath the high vaulted ceiling of the warehouse, alongside the fire of the Madcat’s machine guns. Venerably ancient technology but no less effective, the flimsily work uniforms and scraps of flak jackets stolen from the Enforcers little match against the lead belching repeaters. Forcing the rebelling workers to seek escape through the opposing doorway hundreds of meters distant or the limited sanctuary of the untended troop carriers and battletanks which made up the expansive wings of the storage depot. Fields of ferrous-steel vehicles, stretching far as the eye could see, from which to offer cover from the titans. Each infantryman too insignificant, too infinitesimal, to be worthy of the pulse lasers tracking over the stubborn remainder of surviving tanks creeping away but instead leaving it to the task of their own infantry storming through the iron legs of the metal giants.

A turbulent sea which fell upon the dug in rebels in increasing waves, each one leapfrogging over the previous drawing closer to the scattered holdouts. Slinging volleys of broiling disrupter shots forcing them down or closing to hack them apart with chainswords, the arena humming with the blades’ infernal motors as well as the devilish troops’, mostly Nausicaans, dirge like laughter. Content to their bloody task even as the odd lascannon or stormbolter was found operational in one of the waiting to be deployed vehicles.

Overwhelming each in turn without style or complex coordination but furious resolve and simplistic strength. The same for the pair of battlemechs plodding after the far entrance, laser weapons thundering against the fresh reserve of imitative Russ tanks and mobile gunnery crews pouring through it to bolster the already obliterated battlegroup. Even more so than the Nausicaans the tide of rabble showed little understanding in the use of their weapons, pilfered to the last, instead serving to make a choke point for themselves offering the knock off Madcats and the supportive, more professional, army in their shadows a target rich environment.

And to this General Scar, supreme military force on the planet, could only smile. A harsh, fanged smile admittedly, one which curdled spirits and caused small children to weep, but a smile none the less. The battle, as well as dozens of others, playing out before him in miniature form, suspended in translucent spheres, as holograms. Each showing a similar picture as the pathetic revolt exhausted itself against the superior Enforcers, even with the disparate and persistent misshapes which had struck against his regiments the battle would be yet another boon to his credit. Pushing him that much more upwards into the lofty heights which Magnhor currently enjoyed, the feeble Governor cowering in the heart of his palace as the plebes rebelled. Unlike Scar, defiantly striding through the war torn cityscape in his command modified All Terrain Walker.

His sigils and banners proudly displayed off of the colossal war machine, rivaling the heights of all but the greatest of battlemechs, the scaly Unas leader almost dared the rebels to seek him out. But few foes would ever dare face him directly, he the Carver of Flesh, instead suffering only a few glory less lobbed shells and missiles thrown at his person. A weak affront to the impervious hide of his chosen chariot, each assault quickly identified in return, pinned down and destroyed by the surrounding Enforcers.

For the most part through the rabble, perhaps because of the appearance of success, focused their rage not at him but at the flint-hearted Governor himself. The mass throngs of which they threw against the palace battlements the sole place on Delmak in which the revolting peasants hadn’t been at least partially stymied. Of which his loyal staff, Scar’s ambitions well known to them, took no attempt to hide their pleasure at.

“The inner wall has just fallen, apparently to repeated ramming by industrial tractors, and the mob is seeping into the sanctum.” Riv, a Bajoran, noted reading the latest report from the embattled units entrenched there.” Urgent request for assistance.”

“We bequeathed them the great and mighty Duras. Surely he alone could defend the Governor.” A bearded Klingon, as each of Scar’s bodyguards were, laughed.” Unless he’s willing to admit a few factory workers with stolen arms are a match for him and his beggar boys he calls troops.”

“Colonel Duras isn’t present, whereabouts unknown. He and much of his regiment, Bloody Bat’leths, have apparently been absent since after the start of the battle.” Kiv, panning with a sweep of his hand through the ethereal data files projected from his console, explained.” The alert was filed by the Ministry office sir, not by his regiment. How should I respond?”

“Inform the Governor’s favor currying shol’va that we will respond with all do his haste due such a prestigious bastion of the Alliance authority.” Scar answered phlegmatically, watching as a Madcat crushed underfoot the smoldering wreckage of a Chimera.” However due forces already committed there must be an unfortunate delay in redeploying them towards the palace.”

“Through General the question still remains.” A Klingon, Janghor, asked at Scar side pouring him a goblet of blood-wine.” Are you going to delay till the spineless Regulan bloodworm become terrified enough to promise you what you want or…do we wait until after his headless body falls from the rafters.”

After all should he perish, rather than be merely humiliated, there stood risks of challenge to succession. Either from within the bloated, maggot infest dead wood of the bureaucracy or from without from another of the Alliance Seconds who coveted the bauble which was Delmak. Challenges Scar, at yet present, couldn’t publicly stand against. Too many enemies made on the political battlefield through the tide was turning, and the buoyed heights he would ascend putting down this revolt…

“I think…” The General, accepting his chalice, mussed just as the simulacrum Madcat stumbled and fell aside.

The image, and remote drone which captured, bathed in a seething cauldron of light and then dissipating like a wisp of smoke. The volatile star-furnace the Alliance used to power the mechs ruptured by some enemy sling and releasing all its fury. The first of setbacks which spread across the hovering orbs, manifesting in one as a command tank which was slaughtered by a well placed piercing charge in another the routing of a brigade of rough and tumble Nausicaans by a mongrel fireteam. One, a cyclopean mass of tendrils and limb cleaving beaks, unmistakably a Founder which slashed through the ranks like a scythe rending the General’s warriors open. Supporting the nightmarish polymorph was a human, heavily armored and helmeted, firing in wide and hectic sweeps of automatic plasma fire and the more precise phaser fire of a more lithe and agile blue skinned Andorian.

And behind them, rebuffed and encouraged, came the mob of serfs and plebes. Revigorated to throw themselves once more into the mouths of the cannons, perhaps no more successfully than before but draining that much more from an army kicked into disarray with the assassination of commanders or destruction of key equipment. A heavy drag on forces, Scar realized with euphoric clarity, spread thin through the urban structure of the planet. Stretched taunt with his best units tossed piecemeal in a thousand conflagrations.

“…our enemy is bold.” Scar, hearing the building whining of a demolition charge, declared slinging his goblet aside as he went for his cutlass.” To arms men, to arms.”

How they’d infiltrated his command vehicle, what they hoped to gain and why could all wait. For him to flex long dormant muscles and taste the heavenly scent of blood on the air, for him to feel the fire in his veins once more. The gaudy thrill to have a persons life cradled in one palm and your own in the other, for the two to be weighed and measured. To rise above the one found wanting…

His bodyguards forming into a phalanx around him, shielding him, he raised his saber hilt to the air as its long, stygian blade of black light shimmering into existence and bellowed a war cry as defiant and fierce as his people. One echoed by his guards own throats and their disrupters as the sealed door to the room blew open.

“My soul for Khaless, my life for Carver of Flesh!” Janghor screamed, firing, before a bolter shell pierced his armor and eviscerated his chest and stomach.

Another three falling with him, space with was instantly filled by the survivors closing around the General, as the armored giant thundered into the room ignoring the barrage of disrupter bolts like a summer rain. Panning his blazing gun across another two fell, one’s skull shattered the other clutching stringy gore from a demolished shoulder, as he cut through the room adding to his tally with a sweep of his raging chainsword. Messily bifurcating through warriors in turn as the giant iron humanoid cleaved away one half of Scar’s defenders. Swiveling in turn across the other side he shredded each of the souls who made to grab at the General, pull him away from the giant he craned his scaly head up to stare down. A look met with equal spite as the warrior lowered his smoking bolter and pointed the whirring edge of his sword at Scar’s heart, the being’s amplified voice equally dripping with hate and scorn when at last he spoke.

“By the edict of the League, by the will of the collective humanities, you are charged with death Xeno. And I, Angelos of the Blood Ravens, shall that the verdict is delivered.” He boasted thrusting.

Never making contact with the alien’s iron hide, the famed butcher displaying marvelous agility as he bent away out of the passage of the blade and curved back towards to bring his own weapon against it. His onyx blade parting through the metal like butter, sending hurtling chunks to brain the awestruck and dazed Kiv, which he then brought up against the denser metal of giant as he rushed past the General. Carving a ruinous line along his side and back, smelling the being’s augmented blood sizzle on the cutlass’s projection as he removed it. Slashing again as the larger being spun towards him, reflexes heightened with pain and rage.

“Witch, harpy!” He screamed connecting the fist mailed around the stock of his bolter against the side of Scar’s face, a blow which buckled almost any other Xeno’s head.

The General’s however remained intact, merely falling in motion with the blow. Hitting the deck plate at the feet of the giant he hacked a missing swipe before rolling out of the way of the five burst of bolter rounds which exploded into the floor. More following as he distanced himself circling the giant, his back to the door he refused to flee through, absorbing shards and splinters of casings and walls which bled tiny rivulets against his leathery and tough flesh. Stinging pinpricks which chastened him on, gave fire to his veins as he waited for the fearsome weapon to expend itself then, in that sliver of a moment, launch with all his feral savagery.

Going not for the armored beings chest, too resilient to his saber’s charms as his previous strike had proven, but after the bolter itself. Slicing it apart in the same motion he leapt towards the larger warrior and then, before he closed his arms and crushed him, driving a clenched fist into the eye piece of his helm. Raw bone and sinew placed against reinforced crystalline, enough to stop a stray round. Sacrificing the use of his fingers, his hand, which popped and broke as combined they drove through showering the occupant’s face in their tiny shards. Blinding him for that split of second as Scar, dropping to one knee as the giant’s arms collided together, rose circumventing along the side of Angelos and aimed his rising cutlass towards a seam or crevice between the helmet and the armor itself.

A move he never finished as a second force struck him, not as strong as the giant but faster, first shattering the wrist of his sword arm then his right knee cap before driving home a kick through his stomach and finishing with a prolonged phaser burst.

“I had him.” The irate Space Marine bellowed, one arm snapping to block the aborted blow as the other pivoted through the space Scar had occupied a moment previously.

“I know.” Reynolds answered needling the larger man’s stiff pride.” But you two would have been at it forever. We do have a schedule to keep.”

“Perhaps…” Angelos allowed, smiling beneath his helm, as he walked over to Scar, still struggling to rise once more, and crushed his head beneath his gauntlet.”…but the next alien warlord is mine.”
*

Now I think Preao should do one with Rand Al'Thor and the Man in Black. ;)

[Khas]

We also need to send in the Evas. In case of emergency, and also because I want to see Rei creep everyone out.

Also, for Angelos, it should be "humanity and its allies".

Also, while bolters are used by the Star League, laser and plasma weapons generally aren't. Phaser and tetryon weapons are. The UNSL is equal parts UFP and BT Star League, with bits and pieces of the IoM thrown in for good measure.

[sonofccn]

Now, UNSL vs. Tidesverse UFP vs. Terrorverse GE. Dear God, that would be a Khornate's dream come true.

Well since I know absolutely nothing concerning the Furry Conflict, my interest in anthropomorphize animals fighting begins and ends with Swat Kats, I'll think I'll focus on this scenario. Specifically Terrorverse GE, if you'll indulge me.

Navy: The Empire stands not too different if not slightly worse on a per unit basis as the Federation. The only, slight, exception is that hyperdrive, on the defense and on the limited "rail network" of well charted routes shouldn't be completely run over by transwarp. Really the only saving grace is that the Empire fields tens of thousands of Star Destroyers and millions of lesser vessels, through scattered across the breadth of its domain, plus appears to posses extensive boneyards where older ships can be relatively quickly retrofitted. A Soviet quantity has quality all of its own stratagem might be able to brow beat UNSL starfleet.

Ground: May be the quality versus quantity of the Space War taken up to extremes. On one side of the ledger the UNSL has things like transporters/anti-matter bombs/Mechs/channelers which the Empire has either poor or no equivalent. Their forces are also quite heavily mechanized judging from the Tartarus example. Assuming two hundred tanks and a hundred Mechs were looking at a vehicle for every seven MACOs, and depending on crews possibly seven hundred plus Tankers/Mech Pilots, while I’d hazard the Empire has a vehicle or two for every thirty-forty soldiers.

Conversely in the “modern” era the Tartarus force is above normal force deployment, something unseen since the Trolloc Wars, which would be a tad small in comparison to the Empire. For comparison Krevin lost as many troopers fighting the Cytherians as Angelos has MACOs at his disposal and Commander Harridan managed to maintain an adhoc force under arms of over a million men on at least one perimeter.

[Khas]

Well, for the UNSL, that was ground forces. And this was just at one battle scene. There would often be fighting over an entire planet in the Trolloc Wars. And in fact, on Tartarus, the PDF forces are currently fighting in more places, and more reinforcements are coming. This is just the initial boost.

As for TFC, meh, I'm not that big a "furry" fan either. I just happen to have a bit of a soft spot for it in particular since A: I didn't know what furries were when I first found it, and B: It had a much better story than many other sites at the time (back in '06).

I also included it because Praeothmin is a former member.