Front Page



Game Index


Site Tools



June 24, 2022
481 0

Turing Board Game Review

Board Game Reviews
June 22, 2022
640 1
June 17, 2022
590 0

We Can Play Board Game Review

Board Game Reviews
June 15, 2022
615 1
June 13, 2022
635 0
June 10, 2022
633 0

Skora Review

Board Game Reviews
Michael Barnes
June 09, 2022
2510 0
June 08, 2022
847 1
June 07, 2022
445 0
June 06, 2022
463 0
June 06, 2022
414 0

Synchronized Board Game Review

Board Game Reviews
June 03, 2022
574 0
June 02, 2022
491 0
June 01, 2022
923 0
Bugs: Recent Topics Paging, Uploading Images & Preview (11 Dec 2020)

Recent Topics paging, uploading images and preview bugs require a patch which has not yet been released.

× Buy your army to crush your enemies.

Warzone: The Incursion from the Rust - Pt. 1

23 May 2009 22:19 - 24 May 2009 20:59 #30451 by Rliyen
Sergeant Alia Mattherson of the 23rd Airborne Ranger Division rocked slowly back and forth while the Condor's main rotor throbbed just above her head. She and her squad were being deployed as a potential rearguard for a disabled Desert Fox. The last transmission from the tank stated that they were cut off from their platoon and taking fire from unknown aggressors. The sector that the transmission came from, south east of Valley Forge, was unusually quiet for enemy activity. Now, the higher ups were worried of a major offensive possibly coming from that area. With that in mind, Mattherson's troop was being sent, along with a Recon unit, to secure the Fox. They were supposed to let the Recon unit do their work, and then pull out if the shit got too thick.

“Sergeant, we're approaching the drop zone,” the Condor's pilot's voice came over her earpiece scratchy and tinny. “We've tried establishing radio contact with the Fox, but we're not getting a response.”

That's never good, Mattherson thought as she did a final once over of her gear and her HFMPS-94's HUD eyepiece. All her squad's dogtags were online and in the green. She tapped her earpiece to the squad's general channel and stood up.

“All right, my little bitches, listen up. We're almost to the drop zone. For those who are slow thinkers, we are going to do the following: Deploy from the bird and secure the general area around the tank. Then, we're gonna babysit some line men, fresh from Recon pre-school, while they do the sweep. If we do find opposition, we will only engage on my order. If it's too much, we fall back to the LZ and get picked up. Am I clear?”

“YesSIR!” the refrain came quickly. Mattherson nodded and queued her communicator back to the Condor pilot.

“Are we in position?” Mattherson asked.

“Yes, although we're picking up some bad storms coming in our direction from the Rust. It may be some time before we're able to get back in your neck of the woods.”

“We're big boys, we'll be fine,” Mattherson replied to the pilot. She signaled her men to attention and vaulted out of the open door. One by one, her men followed. The ground rushed up to her at a heading speed, but this was the best part to her. It was a better rush than sex, the heart pounding exhilaration of flying; even though it wasn't. She popped her chute expertly and guided herself in. She landed two meters behind the Fox, which was inert on the southwestern portion of a medium sized dune.

Even without the pilot telling her that they were unable to contact the vehicle, it was evident the reason why. The turret was dislocated from the main body and sagged drunkenly off its left side. Smoke wafted from the front end, out of Mattherson's sight, but she knew something big must have punched through the front of the Fox to cause that much damage. While she leaned forward and saw the remains of the tank's crew, the rest of her men landed in a wide circle around the tank.

Milton sucked air through his teeth and gave a low whistle when he caught sight of the tank. “They must've run inta somethin' big, huh, sir?”

“No, the driver had too much Graveton cuisine,” Mattherson sardonically replied to her subordinate.

“Sergeant, we got company!” Private Carter called from his forward position on the dune. “Coming in from the north, 288, 025, and 045. And, sir, they ain't human.”

Mattherson brought up her M50, peered through the scope, and checked Carter's first coordinates. Her eyes were greeted by a quintet of figures. They were encased from head to toe in heavy, spiked armor. Four were armed with rifles the likes of which the Sergeant had never seen before, the other was armed with a huge handgun of similar design. They all carried swords. Emblazoned on their breastplates was a yellow, spiked triangle. They marched without effort in the bulky armor and they were unerringly heading for their position. Mattherson looked up and noted that the other targets were blocked by the dune to her right.

“288 looks human to me, Carter. What's got in your head that they aren't? I can't see 025 and 045. Report.”

Carter's voice was slightly quavering. “Sergeant, the reason why I said, 'they ain't human' is what's with them. 045's like 288, five all armored up with no place to go. 025's the scary one.”

“What's so scary about it?”

“It's a woman,” Carter replied in a quiet voice.

Mattherson snorted. “Carter, have you forgotten I'm one?”

“No, ma'am, but you're also not three meters tall, black hair, and white skin,” the private factually replied.

Suddenly, the loud report of an M50 broke the silence, followed by cursing. From the direction of the gunfire, it came from Private Wierzbowski's position. Private Bonner, situated near the front left of the disabled tank, made a swipe at an unseen target in front of him.

“Good goin', Wierz,” Bonner muttered.

As if by unspoken agreement, Evan, Patricks, and DeMint opened fire as well; much to the chagrin of their NCO. In the distance, Mattherson could see one of the armored figures drop like a stone.

“BOOM! HEADSHOT!” Patricks whooped. “That one's mine.”

“Hold your fire, you Sergeant Carter cocksuckers!” Mattherson yelled up to the trio on the dune crest. “Next one of you little bitches even sneezes at them will be doing latrine duty with only their tongue.” The familiar thrum of rotor blades resonated from the south. Mattherson turned to spot the incoming helicopter.

It was a Grapeshot, the smaller cousin of the Condor. It was making a beeline right for them, coming in low.

“Did someone use my name in vain?” an unfamiliar voice said over the Ranger's comm.

“Who is this?” Mattherson replied angrily.

“You'll see in a moment, Miss,” came a response so formal it took Mattherson aback.
Last edit: 24 May 2009 20:59 by Rliyen.

Please Log in or Create an account to join the conversation.

24 May 2009 10:01 #30458 by jur
great start of a feuilleton! atmosphere is set. Curious what game it is though.

Please Log in or Create an account to join the conversation.

24 May 2009 11:25 #30463 by hancock.tom
Warzone! My 40K model conversion bits box is full of this stuff. It was an OK game and got pretty popular where I was for a while about 6 years ago... I got a bunch of them for free and have been using the guns/heads/knives on other models for other games ever since.

Please Log in or Create an account to join the conversation.

24 May 2009 11:57 #30464 by jur
hancock.tom wrote:



Please Log in or Create an account to join the conversation.

Moderators: Gary Sax
Time to create page: 0.117 seconds