Andreyich

Decided to try something

Do modern, classical, or other physics apply to it?

War Never Changes 2 : A Post Nuclear Nation Roleplay

Legio Mexicanus

Aurelius was quite amazed at how these Mexican cities operated. The Frumentarii had found out that the Mexicans had figured out the perfect solution to food problems by walling off vital parts of the city that had work of all sorts in it, while letting the rest get infested with radroaches, radscorpions, feral dogs, molerats and even deathclaws. There were however reinforced gates to allow local huntsmen armed to the teeth to go in, and return with grand hauls of meat and rainwater. It wasn't luxury by any stretch but it was a type of autarky unheard of in America's wastes, which in turn allowed the city centres to return to something akin to life of the early 20th century (though far from those of the 21st). Some factories had even resumed their manufacturing and that was all Aurelius needed to know that these cities were an immediate focus for his campaign to pique the interest of his Emperor.

Yet he could not so quickly rush towards them. The Empire who's borders he had broken through had at last reacted to its border patrols and gendarmes in the region disappearing, having finally received confirmation this was a product of invasion rather than corruption. In response they sent several reserve divisions of full combined arms with the intent of crushing the incursion as fast as possible so all attention could be diverted to the rival Empire. They would be punished for their arrogance.

The warrior decided he had no time for a slow campaign of attrition. No, he would meet them in open battle and crush them there. But he could not strike them as a mere tribe either. While not armed with semi-automatic rifles as standard issue the average Mexican trooper was a match for an NCR conscript, though somewhat of a sidegrade rather than an upgrade.

As the two armies came upon one another they both dug trenches, the Frumentarii having found that trench warfare had created a nearly century long stalemate between the two rival Empires of Mexico, and so it wouldn't be imprudent to mirror this.

The most important parting gift of the Emperor were a great assortment of parrott guns of varying calibre all the way from small 20 pounders for fast transport in light support fire purposes all the way to great 300 pounders that could with sheer concussive force render tanks inoperable in spite of the very basic technology of the weapon. Rather ironically they would not be used in the first engagement between Legion and Mexican army, improvised wooden cannons being blasted instead.

The plan was to lull the foe into believing the Legion had a far greater technical inferiority on the strategic scale, and that it had numeric inferiority here on the tactical scale. Bait followed by counterattack had become almost the standard stratagem of the Legion and it would be employed here too.

Aurelius's goal over this engagement was to route the force before him in a single blow such that he may capitalize the otherwise exposed flank to make great ground. To that end he would have to wait a considerable amount of time which admittedly he wasn't sure he had. But once a critical point of confidence would be reached among enemy officers they would presumably be given the order to charge and take over the Legion's trench, (which would also be made look seemingly primitive, stakes instead of barbed wire and planks instead of sand bags) where they would be met with ferocity they could not imagine. At the half way mark snipers would open fire along side the real artillery of the Legionnaires. When only a third distance would be left carbines would open fire and machine guns would be reserved for when a quarter of the way was left for the charging Mexicans. At the tenth-way mark shotguns, submachine guns, pistols and flamethrowers would be unleashed and just as the Mexicans would be about to hit the stakes and jump into the trenches a counter-charge would meet them of Legionnaires bearing machetes, shields and other weapons of extreme close combat. These reserve Legionnaires would be ordered to give chase to the assaulting Mexican forces once presumably they routed and would follow them into their trenches; they would yet be ordered to not overtake the men they were chasing such that officers staying back to guard their lines would be hesitant to give the order to fire upon their own men (and indeed if they did wisen up and gave the order to fire they would have to get through a line of meatshields that were their fleeing comrades before they could hit Legionnaires).

Yet as the enemy mustered for the storming of Legion lines the fact plans rarely survived the first few moments of combat washed over Aurelius, giving him great pause. There really were a lot of them it seemed, looking through his binoculars. “Jesus fucking Christ.” the Tributarii beside him muttered, and to be frank he concurred with the sentiment.

“Increase the engagement range for all except the last lines. Seventy-five meters approximately, tell the Decanii to exercise their own judgement as the enemy nears.”

Aurelius took off his helmet and wiped his brow, before ramming it back on. The Mexicans were now exiting their trench, marching forth in a great series of long rows. Their rifles were still slung, at this range discernible as hunting rifles or similar bolt action variants. Bayonets were not mounted upon them yet but they had them at their belts and were clearly to be mounted once closer. Whatever manual of arms they had most certainly drilled it well. Thus the wooden cannons opened fire with their iron balls, the things dropping inaccurately only occasionally striking near the rows of Mexicans let alone actually hitting a man, with no explosion following their fall leading to casualties in the single digits from each gun. A whistle was heard in the far distance, a clear command from one of the foe’s officers. They stopped, affixed bayonets, and finally charged. They had their fair share of war cries and such, but nothing too savage. Finally, the true artillery and Legionnaire snipers opened fire now that the appropriate threshold was hit. The Parrott guns were a design four centuries old just like the rifles of about half the Legionnaires in the trenches, but much like the small arms they were nevertheless devastating. A mixture of direct and indirect fire struck out with some balls flying horizontally to knock down many men in a line, while others were let fall down upon the men further back in the Mexican assault such that those in the rear would not be spared the morale shock of their comrades at the front.

The enemy did not buckle under this sudden onslaught yet, however, as officers gave out commands and battle chants. Many Mexican soldiers dropped to the ground without seemingly being hit, these soon evident to be their own snipers with optic and laser mounted on picattiny rail.

Aurelius smiled. He had in spite of all his best efforts underestimated his foe. Well, he would bring them to the state he had hoped they’d be in. From it’s leather sheathe he removed his own rifle, ramming a stripper clip into the masterpiece before sighting down it. In spite of calls of his advisors to return to the safety of the previous vantage point Aurelius ran forth to the front shelter, assisting his troops where they failed. While they focused upon eliminating the officers of the enemy, each shot he took removed one of their counter snipers.

Clack.

Already all ten bullets were expended. He looked about, then went on to reach for the FAL held by one of the Grey Frumentarii that had followed him. The man didn’t let go, and so Aurelius struck him before returning to his previous position. Down on his arse the Frumentarius reached for his sidearm in furor but his commander put a placating hand on his shoulder. For himself the disgraced Phoenician removed sniper after sniper, continuing on even after a shot bounced off of his helmet; he only saw it as the enemy doing the work of being found for him, in spite of his recent vows to gird his arrogance.

Thus it was that threshold after threshold was crossed by the charging Mexicans, more and more weapons held in reserve opening up on them. The force was now a fraction of what had set out but it was still a great amount of men running forth with bayoneted rifle. Not just that it seemed, the enemy having specially dedicated many weapons for the storming of Legion positions like machine pistols, exotic laser RCWs and even…. “Grenades!”

They were flash grenades, clearly from occupational riot police centuries past. New Model Legionnaires were well drilled in how to react to grenades and thus appropriately hit the deck, covering head and ears. But no amount of drilling and preparation can actually save you from the concussive blasts that followed. As the explosive barrage quietened down the Mexican troops did not immediately charge in afterwards, first doing their best to form impromptu ranks to fire off the entirety of the magazines in the bolt action rifles, a strategy no doubt honed upon their rival Empire. A hysterical giggle erupted from the commander as the enemy’s own case of a plan not surviving first minutes came into play. Though their well drilled rank fire did bring many Legionnaires down it gave time for Aurelius to give two crucial orders. First, for medics to run ahead and distribute stimulants to the disoriented Legionnaires to bring them into a warrior’s rage and up from their knees. Second, it would allow his reserved men held back in preparation for a counter-charge to go at the enemy without them having loaded ammunition to cut them down. Only barely coherent in his ecstatic state Aurelius barked the orders into his receiver, laughing as a carnage unfolded before him. The enemy did react very well to the sudden burst of angry men in funny looking outfits coming at them with machetes, forming a sort of quasi-phalanx with their bayonets. Many a Legionnaire was impaled then and there, but the first martyrs drove enough chaos into the Mexican ranks that the following Legionnaires created a true carnage.

Man after man fell, and eventually nerves cracked. Though grabbing and pulling back a few runners and threatening to shoot a few more, the officers of the assault soon knew it was time to retreat. A complex series of whistles announced the retreat, and back across the dirt they ran.

"Forwards!" Roared a Decanus, both close quarters Legionnaires and the riflemen maddened on drugs following close behind. As ordered they rarely actually caught up to the fleeing Mexicans, preferring to keep them live as human shields. Of course they made sure to cut one down every so often to keep them on their toes, but for now they were happy to just make ground.

They got closer, and could now see into the enemy trenches over the shoulders of the cowardly foe. Advancing some distance behind his men on a motorbike Aurelius looked through binoculars and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. The enemy was hoisting HMGs into positions. Their artillery remained quiet for now, so at least part of his plan had worked but what was happening at the front of the enemy trenches nevertheless unnerved him.

He soon found out why.

As the Legionnaires were close to finally entering enemy positions a series of whistled signals were made, and as one the retreating Mexicans dropped to the ground covering their heads. Instantly the remaining defenders of the Mexican trenches opened fire with all that they had cutting down hundreds of Legionnaires that weren’t wise enough to likewise hit the deck in mere seconds. Aurelius braked and dropped to the ground so as to not be shot down from here, observing from his telescope. There was now an impasse, which while not great for the foe was far better than their entire assaulting force being decimated to the last man and their trench being taken over. Aurelius however thought he had a way of breaking the little stalemate, oh yes he did!

He crawled some distance back to get to the Frumentarii who had followed him on their own bicycles, and spoke to them. To their frontlines the Legion had brought many caged dogs, the commander having suspected they might be needed rather than staying in logistical reserve. He would give the command by radio to have them be released, and he’d give a blow to the horn that would get most of them running to him. From then on he’d crawl as close to the Mexican trenches as he could, giving the horn another blow every so often to give the dogs fresh bloodlust running forth.

The Frumentarii initially hesitated to concur to the waste of resources, but then they considered that in his modernization efforts Vulpes cared less and less for Legion Mongrels and thus they were disposable. The plan went through, and it had success. Many dogs were shot down on their approach, but they were much shorter than a man and much faster, not to mention Mexican gunners were hesitant to fire upon them instead of the men they had to keep suppressed while their comrades slowly tried to crawl back to their lines away from the Legionnaires in turn crawling towards them.

Their indecision would cost them, as Aurelius ordered the Parrott guns to all stop fire, reload, and prepare two successive volleys to suppress the Mexicans just before the dogs hit them. One line of bombards fired, and then another, and then the concussed Mexicans had to face the full brunt of a great many dogs barking and howling breaking right into their positions. Many pounced upon the retreating Mexicans, and many got caught in barbed wire, but just enough broke through to silence some MGs to in turn allow the suppressed Legionnaires to arise, and charge yet again. Many died, indeed the majority of those who stormed the Mexican position died but just enough remained to hold the line for their reinforcements to arrive to frighten a surrender into the surviving Mexicans.

The battle was over, and the enemy officer knelt before Aurelius on his improvised Throne with his sword upraised as offering. The disgraced Legate took it, testing the balance once or twice before sheathing it and placing it at his belt. “The Sword of the South.” he dubbed it, before turning to one of the Frumentarii that spoke Spanish. “It will be a fine gift for the Emperor. Inform Colonel Alvarez that he has a choice of either being impressed into our troops, dying an honourable death, or as a coward being sent Northwards. I wish to rest now. Let the men do likewise, we move South in two days time.” and as far as the man was concerned that was that.

Spearhead in the Gap; A WWIII war game (1985)

It won't make a very noticeable operational difference but I was wondering if I could play an alternate Warsaw pact army like the East Germans?

Battle of the Nations

My post will be Tuesday.

Descension (A God SoL RP)

I understand where you're coming from they definitely weren't white but Egyptian Gods looked more or less like modern Egyptians, Arabic/North African rather than Black/Sub-Saharan African. Anyways might make Ulgan, Burkut or someone else from Tengrist pantheon, maybe some other Central Asian God idk, going to do some sick throat singing to dab on the shitty music of other pantheons, along with flexing the fact mans still has modern day worshippers

Warhammer 40k: Sons of Titan - A Grey Knights RP

Stay alert and kill anything that moves, we are not here on a mercy mission; remember, we are the hammer!

The words of the Justicar echoed in young Olympio’s mind. Naturally with all the psycho conditioning he received and with the fact this was his first blooding he did not feel anything even close to remorse, regret, or hesitation in this act of genocide. He was however rather saddened by the fact there was not a redeemable soul left in this locale. Even before the drop pod landed Olympio scanned the minds of the world’s denizens. Many were thinking of simple mundane things, the pictures of innocence. Families lived and loved, tragedies and triumphs were had, and the things that the Grey Knights were ultimately fighting for thrived on in the world. But these people they were descending to meet would have none so much as deserving the Emperor’s mercy, only death in a most spectacular way possible with the hope of insuring that from the corpses present the seeds of heresy would not at a later date sprout again as they had to create this little scenario for the Strike Squad.

As they entered the drop pod Olympio started a prayer, looking at his brothers while speaking to himself. He felt now that he had not articulated the full extent of what he had felt aboard the vessel, but alas now it was too late to worry their minds with the esoteric. Only bloodshed awaited them, and that they would more than do their duty in. Olympio knew he had not the fiery pyrotechnics of one, nor the bladework of the other, nor the veterancy of the Justica. But they would be blind insofar as he saw, relying on the fact they were to only deal with rabble at most having a mark or two of Slaanesh to empower them.

As the pod hit the earth Olympio was the last to exit, making sure he finished his prayer before joining the fray. The scene initially seemed empty, a ghost town being their field of battle. But soon scanners, superhuman sense and a psychic reading of the town revealed that this was not in fact true. A horde of enemies soon descended upon the Knights who clearly had been expected. Olympio pressed his blade to his face, before flourishing and charging into the thick of the foe with the simple words “Emperor!” on this mouth. He did not fire his stormbolter, believing that the strength of the enemy did not merit the waste of precious psybolts when a nemesis force weapon would more than suffice. Sure, he took a lot of las and auto fire that he could have avoided but other than the occasional scratch upon his armour it would be nothing of note. Indeed as the distance closed the Marine already felt that he could track the movements of the heretics before him and evade their fire with janky movements, while being able to outright dodge some of the ballistic projectiles they spat at the holy warriors.

As he neared the lines of the amassed foe he jumped over their overwatch fire crushing two hapless foes under his ceramite boots. He had to act fast then to not get overwhelmed by the enemy surrounding him but this was not particularly hard with a nemesis force blade in his hands. A single pirouette with the blade split in twain the first wave of oncoming attackers and from then on he rushed forward to make use of the space he had just made by cleaving a further line in the enemy formation. Some of the enemy tried to parry with their improvised blades and bludgeons but this didn’t work. Olympio didn’t even try to go around their blocks, knowing his weapon would simply cut through their unrefined plasteel arms. He cut through more and more of the foe, but as the combat went on he noticed the enemy parted from him rather than trying to envelop the warrior, and it was clear why moments later. The terrain around him started to exploded the few heretics that did not get away being nearly instantly vapourized by the autocannon mounted on a roof. It was a rather surprisingly powerful one with twin barrels allowing it to cycle at twice the speed of a typical autocannon, a perfect weapon to rip apart space marines carrying both the rate of fire of automatic small arms and the potency to actually penetrate armour of a lascannon. More shots from the weapon rang out, one shell detonating dangerously close and leaving one leg of the Grey Knight broken. Olympio cursed his arrogance, knowing that if he failed to pay attention to his surroundings but a few moments longer he would now be a red mist rather than simply possessing a leg broken by the shockwaves.

Once more he zigged and zagged with superhuman speed of Astartes to insure the shells narrowly missed him. He knew he could not persist like this forever and he could not rely on his Brothers just yet for they all had their own little battles to deal with. He breathed in, closing his eyes momentarily in spite of the grave danger he was in. This was not the moment to try and make predictions faster and more accurate than he had before, but it was the only way out he knew — but he only needed a few truthful milliseconds! He slowed down, and eventually he turned side ways just narrowly avoiding a strafe of foretold exploding munitions before raising his sword and letting witch-lightning leap from it’s tip all the way to the roof, connecting with the feed-system of the guns and overcooking their ammo with a bright and gory display. Letting more lightning leap from his finger-tips to the heretics running at his back thinking they had an opportunity, he once more took a two-handed grip upon his blade and charged into a clump of gunmen. The Grey Knight could only hope that the Justicar would forgive him for using his powers unbidden when the squad may well have been expected to ration them for the all but inevitable case that a greater foe appeared.

Battle of the Nations

It depends on the infantry. In the Russian Empire it was indeed as you describe it, infantry only given a few balls and powder charges every so often to practice their firing for leaders like Kutuzov preferred to use only a volley or two to disorient the foe before charging. However this was not the case for all European militaries at the time, much less their elites.

What Are You Listening To?

Heroes of Might and Magic: Defying the Gravekeep

NO, YOU MAY NOT. I WILL TELL YOU MYSELF IF IT COMES TO BE PERTINENT.

The figure went lower to the ground and craned itself to come face to face with the young Lordling, the darkness of its helmet visor staring into Brandon's eyes despite having nothing in particular to actually be staring with.

I crawl through your every vein and nerve.

I see the valence of your soul.

The figure straightened out, making a noise reminiscent of one clearing their throat save for being far raspier, and with a metallic quality to itself. Again the being spoke, its voice not quite so overwhelming if still very loud.

Believe it or not, but you are dead child. You were cut open in far more places than is necessary to cease your breathing for the doers of the bladework sought to pull out your innards. Unfortunately for them those who I presume to be your heroic comrades interrupted their work. Unfortunately for you however, they were far too late to stop them ending your life. You are the victim of the Followers of Marcel Brunnerstadt. That name is in truth far longer, though you only need know it as I spoke't.

He is a powerful Necromancer long dead in the corporeal realm, but not having faced the final death his vile soul is still roaming the world with many evils in mind. They reanimated your body, imbuing it with a great many fel magics. But they did not banish your soul from it, and thus you are alive... except not quite. You understand, child.

The figure waved a hand, and in the darkness a slit opened revealing the same sight as that which was there through the visor of the helmet Brandon had put on his head earlier.

"Though some of the followers of the fallen Necromancer have been foiled, he has many more that will try once more very soon. Given you are one of the few who are aware of this predicament, you will go forth and bring an end to his villainy once and for all. Question? There better be none, for time is wasting and we must strike out upon the road as soon as possible."

War Never Changes 2 : A Post Nuclear Nation Roleplay

Legio Oklahoma

”Yeeeeeeeeeeeee-haw!”

“Get me some of that yankee ear!”

The taunts and jeers from the advancing Ghosts we unending and all equally unelegant but threatening. Alexus had most certainly underestimated the strange tribals as they bore down on the Legion’s position with their combined arms assault. Cavalry and storm trooper vanguard advanced after some sort of mortars blunted the proverbial phalanx of the Legion, followed up with more ordinary troops to cement gained ground and provide covering fire for further advances.

But Alexus knew he would prevail. He was operating under what was once known as deep battle doctrine, and while at many points the will of the auxilia nearly gave out the Legionnaires always seized victory from the jaws of defeat. The ghost people had advanced too far for their own gokd, and soon their salient would at its root be attacked from two sides turning it into a pocket – a pocket that would become a great many slaves and pieces of equipment for the Legion.

"My Lord, they're about to come into our trenches, shall I order the signal?"

"No."

"But my Lord, they are bearing down on our very positions, surely it is time?"

"Though to most this lesson comes earlier you will yet learn that victory belongs to the bold young Centurion." and as far as Alexus was concerned, that was that.

From their dugouts his Legionnaires unleashed powerful volleys of fire bringing down a great number of the incoming foe, but it was not enough. The Ghost Klan entered the positions of the Legion and bayonets were raised against tire irons and golf clubs.

Again the Centurion by Alexus started to say something about having to react, but he shushed the man as his eyes closed. The Centurion Maximus waited until he could finally smell blood and powder, and at last he nodded to a pubescent Speculator by his side. A firework erupted, and following it two more on either flank, and yet two more, and so on and so forth. Drawing the ripper gifted to him by the new Emperor himself in a powerfist clad hand Alexus turned to the Centurion by him. "Let us assist the brave Legionnaires" he stated, before roaring a battle cry lost to history and wading into warriors of the Ghost Klan.

The strategy was not one Alexus was wholly comfortable with, reminiscent of what the NCR had done to his comrades at boulder city those many years ago. And yet such frontline bait and trickery was becoming standard for the Legios as a whole, netting victories in every theater of war; Alexus had doubted the Frumentarius Emperor and his ways, but he had proven himself in the crucible of war more than once and - stopping his close quarters slaughter to look ahead with binoculars - it seemed yet again. The Ghost Klan outnumbered and outgunned the Legio Oklahoma but with creative stratagems and secure logistics they were gaining ground daily. However, Alexus at the same time had little to show for it. The Ghost Klan had largely made a living by feigning weakness and thus attracting raiders who they in turn raided and decimated. They had little in the way of any cultivated farms or industry, and the poor stock that they were would have little use beyond a hefty sum of slaves. Of course it would be a road to new conquests that would at least pay for itself in plundered equipment, and Vulpes Inculta was far more understanding than his predecessor. But somehow he couldn't shake the feeling this was a failure for which he would be reprimanded.

He could only focus on the future now, he muttered to himself as he disembowelled a Klansman. Perhaps if following this he could strike upon Texas….

---

Legio Nebraska

Dead Sea had to admit that Nebraska was quite a beautiful place. The rolling grass contrasted by plateaus and dotted with the animals not too mutated, or at least mutated not quite so ugly.

But he wasn’t here to view the beautiful vistas. The Red Prolas Tribe was a threat in the locale, and one that had to be stomped out fast with unparalleled brutality. Like the NCR it carried more to it than just a promise of prosperity, but also a component of nostalgia for dead pre-war ideologies. The big Red Book they followed, with which the Frumentarius ghoul was apparently very well acquainted; men over the sea were apparently very much supportive of it while America was bent on eradicating. Dolos believed his experience from before the war would help crush these strange people and as far as Dead Sea could see he was right.

Most important was to crush the lesser tribals that they were using their strange internationalism to gradually take in. Without their little compatriots though, the men of the Red Book would be nothing.

“They’re in this cave.” The Speculator pointed, Dead Sea nodding thankfully. He made a motion, and the column of Tributarii that came along went inside with their rifles upraised. Resistance was… futile.



Fully automatic fire cut through the first lines of defenders and the attempts at ambushes in melee within the elaborate cave system were easily foiled by the Tributarii’s own experience in close quarters combat. Any who surrendered were given the kindness of mercy, Vulpes and Dolos believing they could quickly reorient the tribe, while the present advisors from the people of the Red Book had to be interrogated. The defeat of the tribe took less than an hour, and their leadership was chained before being made kneel.

Dead Sea looked at them from Shaman to Chieftain. They were pathetic now, brought low and fearful. But that would change.

“Unchain them.” he said, repeating himself when the Tributarius beside him gave a confused look. “Unchain them. The Rock Stalker tribe is now under the protection of the Legion.” the Centurion Maximus said, smiling behind his mask — the campaign was going well.