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91
Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Stefan.
« Last post by Inso on October 08, 2014, 07:17:57 PM »
Stefan

Stefan was a Grymn.  He was born on planet six; named so because it was the sixth planet settled since the freedom.  Planets one to five had been deserted by the Grymn because the Bohkin, followed by the Sleiti fleets, had found them.  The continuous fight and flight kept the Grymn fit, clever and on their toes; Stefan was no exception; being a veteran of many battles he now called planet nine his home…

‘Wha…Hmm…’

‘Wake up Stefan…Wake up!’

‘Who…where’s Jack?  He owes me money…’

‘Stefan…Bohkin!’

‘Get Kylie…NOW!’ 

Stefan launched himself from his bunk, he was already dressed and stank of mead, sweat and urine but his eyes were sharp and cruel.  He reached down to his bedside cabinet picked up an etched, silver SMG round and placed it in his pocket.  He then took a good draught from the bottle next to where the round used to be and turned to Sven, the young Grymn who had awoken him.

‘Well?  …Kylie?’

‘I don’t know who she is sir.’

‘Ha!  Of course you don’t, she’s my burner…and she’s a darn good one too.’

Sven went to the corner where a red burner sat neatly on a cushioned couch.  Along side it there were a small number of flasks and a box containing an immaculate weapon-cleaning kit.   He carefully picked up the weapon but in his haste it slipped from his grasp and the butt dropped to the floor.  Stefan crossed the room in a heartbeat and the back of his hand hit the young Grymn so hard across the jaw that he was out cold before he hit the floor.  He cradled Kylie and carefully inspected the weapon to make sure she wasn’t damaged.

‘Don’t worry Kylie; you’re in good hands now.’

Stefan looked at the prone Grymn; ‘More explaining to do’, he thought.

He grabbed his helmet and mask, buckled on his side pouches and spare flasks and left the billet with Kylie held firmly and a look of thunder on his face.

In the courtyard there was organised chaos.  Grymn were barking orders and following them; grabbing weapons and dashing off towards the sound of fighting.

‘Stefan!  Glad you’re still with us.  Follow Kjaran and reinforce the sun-side wall!’  Captain Torsten shouted.  He was a hulking figure dressed in powered armour, sporting a white-grey beard.

‘Yes Sir!’ Stefan replied.  ‘It’s a great day for it.’

‘Ha! It’s always a good day for killing Bohkin!’

Stefan smiled, shot a quick salute and strolled purposefully towards the sun-side wall.  When he arrived, there were many Grymn lining the wall and the Sangers, and they were all well equipped and battle ready.

‘Stefan!  Get yourself to Sanger two and prepare your friend.  We’ll funnel the filth towards you so you’d better be ready!’

‘I’m there, Kjaran…don’t fret yourself!’  He walked towards the Sanger and climbed through the small entry hatch.

‘By feth Stefan, you stink worse than a Dino-hound!  Did you sleep in a vat of mead?’

‘Antar, if it was anyone but you, I’d spit on your boots for that…but I suppose you’re right…there was a good lot of mead in my bunk this morning but I wouldn’t have drunk it a second time!’

‘Swamped again?  You’re back on form then you drunkard.’

‘Aye, I am that; a drunkard but I’m sober enough to burn a few nasties this fine morning.’

‘Well look to your front and keep your eyes peeled, the SMGs are chattering a welcome for them.’

Short bursts of controlled SMG fire rippled from the wall, followed by the whine of mini-guns and the roar of missiles.  Out across the fire-break the Dino-hounds broke from cover and piled forwards at break-neck speed; dodging the shot-falls and closing quickly on the walls.  There must have been a hundred of the multi-coloured, two limbed lizards and although they were starting to fall in the odd place, many of them were closing fast and would meet the walls in a few seconds.
Next to Stefan, Antar flicked the safety on his grenade launcher to fire, pointed the dangerous end through the fire-slit and pulled the trigger.  There was a deafening roar as the launch detonation echoed around the concrete Sanger, followed by a dull ‘crump’ as the anti personnel grenade exploded red-hot shrapnel; tearing the dinosaurs to pieces.

The Dino-hounds still kept coming, even though Antar pumped grenade after grenade into their ranks.  They were too close for grenades now and Antar drew his assault pistol and started firing single, aimed shots at the approaching creatures.

Stefan took a deep breath, fastened his mask and closed his eyes.  He thought of his beloved Kylie, how the Bohkin had captured, tortured and killed her; how they had left her bloodied, lifeless form nailed to a tree-stump; how they had taken her away from him…and his demeanour changed.  Gone was the brightness to his eyes.  Gone was the jovial banter.  Gone was any mercy.  Stefan needed this change before battle.  It was the only way he could deal with the terrible job he had to do.  It wasn’t easy listening to the sizzle of flesh or the screams of the burning.  It wasn’t easy watching figures wreathed in flame dissolving in front of your eyes.  It wasn’t easy, smelling the odour of death; so acrid that it clogged the filters in his mask and he could taste it.

‘My turn, I think’ He said to Antar as he also flicked his weapon’s safety to fire, pointing the nozzle through his vision slit.
 
‘Sing to me Kylie!’  He boomed as he squeezed the trigger and a huge jet of super heated chemicals spewed forth, vaporising the nearest of the Dino-hounds and throwing those following into disorganised panic.

‘It seems they don’t enjoy our welcome, eh Kylie?’ He said, his face set in a grimacing smile.

After a good few bursts of flame, Stefan watched as the remaining few Dino-hounds started running back towards the edge of the fire-break.  He always enjoyed this because the Bohkin were forced to detonate their collars when this happened to prevent the deranged creatures attacking their masters.  As expected, the remaining creatures started bursting apart.  Not long after the last one fell, the Bohkin broke cover and swarmed towards the walls; heavy weapons covering while they ran headlong into the maelstrom.

‘I’d admire them if it wasn’t for the fact that they are Bohkin scum.’ said Antar, whilst looking towards Stefan.

‘I’ll never admire them.’ He replied ‘They use their hounds to see where the guns are because they are too scared to approach us on equal terms’.  He snorted ‘they are cowardly fethers who deserve the death I give them…a bullet is too good for them.’

Stefan steadied himself as the Bohkin support munitions began to detonate around the fortifications.  He could feel the force through the ground and he could hear the cries of those thrown into the air or wounded or killed by the blasts.  The Grymn return fire was becoming a little sporadic as the lines faltered and needed reinforcing but it still carried on and the Bohkin were falling in their droves.
It wasn’t enough though.  The Bohkin were closing on the walls and now the ‘thwip’, ‘thwip’ of small arms fire could be heard as they came into range.
Antar holstered his pistol again and started launching grenades.  The smell of cordite permeated Stefan’s mask and he could taste the metal in it.  Stefan checked Kylie and made sure that her fuel tank was still fairly full.  He tapped the flasks on his belt and could feel that there was plenty of fuel left in them.  He looked out of the vision slit and could see the horde racing towards them.  Every now and again, plumes of earth burst into the air; taking with it a dozen or so Bohkin at a time but it wasn’t enough, they still kept coming.

Stefan put Kylies nozzle through the vision slit again and waited until the enemy was close enough to burn.  When they were in range he squeezed the trigger and the burning began.  After the first jet hit home, the Bohkin stopped in their tracks and started trying to avoid their burning comrades; who were now running wildly around, trying to extinguish the flames.  Bullets started hitting the Sanger as the Bohkin trained their weapons on the threat.  As they advanced, Stefan waited and then unleashed another blast of flame; toasting the nearest and causing chaos again.  This exchange happened again and again.  The Bohkin small arms turned to grenades and heavier weapons but the Sanger still held and Antar and Stefan were kept safe.
 
After what seemed an age, the attack on the Sanger faltered and the Bohkin started running in all directions, shooting into the air.  Stefan smiled as he heard the whine of turbo-fans and pulse-jets.  Flame and Tiger squadrons had arrived.  Flame Squadron was made up of jet-bikes armed with mini-guns and missiles and they were busy strafing the Bohkin lines.  Tiger Squadron was made up of jump-troopers, armed with pistols, power-blades and a complete disregard for their personal safety.  Lieutenant Torge was renowned in the mess hall for causing affray and he was the leader of Tiger Squadron.  Stefan watched as the bikes disappeared and the Tigers ripped into the enemy troops with such ferocity that the Bohkin were fleeing in panic.  As the Tigers continued their work, the light infantry started advancing on the remaining enemy, killing those foolish enough to remain in the fight.  The Bohkin were finished and those that could do fled the field to lick their wounds.

 ‘It’s done Antar; they’ve finished their game for the time being.’

‘Aye and they’ve left me a gift.’

Stefan looked towards Antar and noticed that he looked a little grey in the face.  There was a red stain emanating from his right armpit and it looked like he may well pass out.  Stefan placed Kylie on the ground and went to Antar’s aid, removing his shoulder and chest plates and opening his fatigues so that he could see where the blood was coming from.  He found a neat little hole in the front of his right side and a ragged hole at the back.  He pulled his field dressing from his pouch and tore open the packet.  Carefully he strapped it over the ragged hole and sealed it with medi-foam.  He also sealed the smaller wound and made sure Antar was sitting comfortably as he gave him a shot of pain-ease. 

‘MEDIC!’ cried Stefan, ‘MEDIC!’

Stefan sat with Antar after checking to make sure that it was safe outside and did so until help arrived.  Once he was sure that Antar was in good hands, he slung Kylie over his shoulder and went to survey the battlefield.

Stefan walked among the corpses, their twisted forms lying all around.  There were many more Bohkin than Grymn but when ever he found an ally, he checked for signs of life but he wasn’t very lucky today…there were none.  He breathed deeply, sighed and said dryly…

‘Well Kylie, another day; another battle won’.

He turned back towards the gate and whistled as he strolled forwards.  There were graves to be dug and mead to be drunk.
92
Suggestions (HF) / Re: Further Galactic Navy Figures
« Last post by Artemis Black on October 08, 2014, 07:08:20 PM »
The "Tabitha" figure, if given a yellow dress in the style of the comms officer and nurse, would make an excellent starship captain...
Grif

We are planning a third actually, just waiting on Kev to decide which mini or dolly could be used for the conversion :)
93
Announcements and News / Re: Sculpting Competition *NEW THREAD*
« Last post by Artemis Black on October 08, 2014, 07:06:07 PM »
Heyhey, thanks for all the effort.

I'm the kind of git who still isn't sure about how the thing works. :D Today I placed an order, and used my code. Does this automatically imply that the models from the winners mold are sent to me along with the models ordered or should I send a little email along just to be sure?

P.S.: My entry was deemed not castble right away, so I never sent in the green.

Always best to err on the side of caution and email Jenn. We've started sending out the orders/packages now so to guarantee it goes out faster beter to email and clarify that you are done and won't want anything else etc. :)

Thanks everyone else for the kind words, we're at the business end of closing this up now :)
94
Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Mikkell
« Last post by Inso on October 08, 2014, 07:03:31 PM »
Mikkell

It was cold; so cold that the tips of Mikkell’s fingers were starting to get numb and he was wondering how long he could keep up with his current actions without dropping his SMG.  The icy water was up to his chin and as he carefully waded through it, he cautiously looked around to try and spot any unusual movement.  To his left were three more Grymn light –infantry troopers with the look of being as frozen as he was.  To his right were another six; including Sgt Freidl.  Together, the squad waded slowly towards the river bank, trying not to make a sound or ripple in the water that would give their presence away.  Although it was slow progress, they soon reached the bank and scraped themselves out of the water on their bellies; quickly finding cover in the bushes along the edge of the river bank.  With a signal, one of the troopers was sent out into the darkness to scout the area while the rest of the squad kept low and maintained an all-round defence.  After a few moments, the trooper returned; reporting that the area was clear and that they could relax their guard a fraction.  Sgt Freidl looked around the squad and whispered “it’s about time we got a brew on lads...Mikkell, you can take first watch”.  Mikkell hefted his SMG and, crouching low, took up a position nearby where he could keep a look out for any danger.

Staring out into the darkness, Mikkell wondered what he was doing there.  He had been brought up by a loving family, had been well schooled and had even been offered a well paying job at the local gunsmiths but he had decided to throw caution to the winds and join the army.  Mikkells father was extremely proud of his decision to serve in the Grymn forces but the rest of his family had been horrified.  They just couldn’t understand why he would want to leave the security of his home and go and put himself in harms way while serving in the military.  Mikkell had explained that there was minimal risk involved, especially because there had been no malicious contact from Sleiti or Bohkin forces for generations now but his family were very sceptical about the whole business...well, as it transpired, they had been right.  Although there were no Sleiti or Bohkin involved, there had been multiple incursions into Grymn space by other alien foes.  These new foes were especially problematic because they seemed to want to steal everything they could get their hands on and remain hidden while they stole.  When they had finally showed themselves, they proved to be highly proficient fighters; utilising low tech ballistic weapons and sharp blades to good effect.  The Grymn forces didn’t know what they were really called but they had been given the nickname of Noblins.

Noblins were small, green skinned aliens with an almost skeletal face and small beady eyes.  They spoke in sharp, shrill voices and had a keen desire to keep hold of everything that they had stolen.  They were usually finely dressed in high collared trench-coats and sturdy boots.  Their sharp claws and teeth meant that they were also a menace when unarmed and they would keep fighting even if their cause was hopeless.  They had even been known to chew off their own hands to escape bonds of confinement so muzzles were a common sight on captured Noblins.  At the current time, the Grymn council had no idea as to how they had arrived in Grymn space as no star-ships had been detected during the various Noblin incursions.  The council had agreed, however, that the Noblins represented a moderate threat to Grymn security and they were to be either wiped out, incarcerated or forced to leave the planet.  That was why Mikkell now found himself sitting in the bushes, shivering with cold and staring out into the blackness of night with a readied SMG for company.

“Shift’s up mate” said Durin, disturbing Mikkell’s concentration “the brews are on as well.”

“Cheers Durin, it’s been quiet here...let’s hope it stays like that.”

Mikkell quietly made his way back to the rest of the group; leaving Durin to carry on the watch.  He quickly found his squad clumped together around a lightless stove drinking tea from small tin cups.  He crouched low and quietly scampered towards them.  He nodded to those present, unshipped his small day-sack and removed his mug, tea and whitener from it.  He also found a small packet of fruit biscuits to go with his drink.  Pouring the hot water into his mug, Mikkell crouched low, shivering due to being so wet.  He could feel the warmth filtering through the mug and stirred the contents until they resembled tea.  He then sat down next to Fria and cupped his mug in both hands whilst taking small sips of tea.

“You look frozen solid!” whispered Fria “come here and snuggle, I’ll soon get you warm”.

“Cheers mate!” he whispered in return as he shuffled over to her and allowed her to put her arms around him to get some heat through his chilled muscles.  Fria rubbed his arms and hugged him close while he sipped his tea and he began to feel the chill lessen slightly.  He looked around and noticed that most of the squad were in huddles just like he was but he had been lucky as there were only two girls in the unit and he had managed to be on the receiving end of hugs from one of them.  There was no impropriety involved but he would rather be hugged by a girl than a boy any-day.

“You’re chilled to the bone” whispered Fria “you seriously need to get some meat on your bones!”

“You’re telling me!” he replied “I eat like a Devourer yet still I never put on weight...I could really do with a thick layer like Djoord has” he whispered while looking towards a rather portly Grymn sat next to the lightless stove.   Djoord looked over and grinned at him, he had seen that Mikkell was in the embrace of young lady and raised an eyebrow in mock disdain.

“Feth!” cried Durin from where he was hiding on watch “in-coming!”

The squad of Grymn dropped their mugs and grabbed their SMGs, quickly positioning themselves for all-round defence again.  They could hear a stumbling approach through the undergrowth from Durin’s direction.  They all braced themselves as a small, trench-coated Noblin burst from the cover of the bushes, drew two sharp swords and charged straight at the nearest Grymn.  Garyt managed to snap-fire a couple of rounds before the Noblin piled into him, knocking him to the ground.  Garyt fell back and was desperately defending himself with the stock of his rifle as wild flurries of sword blows reigned down on him.  The furious Noblin was screaming away in its horrible, chittering voice while darting malicious glances around those Grymn present.  Moments later, Durin burst through the same bush as the Noblin had and brought the butt of his SMG down hard on the top of the evil thing’s head with a loud crack.  It fell instantly unconscious and landed across Garyt with a thud.

“Cheers guys” said Garyt, looking around at the rest of the squad “it’s good to know that I can count on you lot”, the irony in his voice was almost opaque.

“What did you want us to do?” sneered Djoord “shoot at you both?”

“Well...you could have done something” he replied, a bit crestfallen.

Sgt Freidl climbed to his feet and surveyed the still body of the Noblin.  “Mikkell, get some ties and bind its hands and feet...Durin, do you have a muzzle on you?  If you do, muzzle this devil”. 

In moments the Noblin was completely bound and considered to be in a safe enough condition to leave in a corner.  Durin was relieved by Gunar and along with the rest of the squad; quickly did a perimeter search to make sure that there were no more Noblins nearby.  Once things were deemed to be clear, the squad returned to their mugs and continued warming up again.  As the evening wore on, the Grymn began to sort things out so that they could bed down for the night.  A guard roster was drawn up, bivvies were erected and night time routine was sorted.  Those that were able to go to sleep went to bed and those that were due to take on a guard duty, stayed up and chilled out by the stove.  Everything settled down and the Noblin remained silent in the corner where he was left.
Morning came as quietly as the night had been.  The few Grymn that were awake, had started cooking breakfast and stirring the rest of the squad from their slumber.  Sgt Freidl climbed out of his bivvy, stretched and went over to see how the Noblin was getting on.

“Oh fething hell...” he cursed “where’s the fething Noblin gone?”

On the ground in front of him was a muzzle and some ties but no Noblin. 

The squad immediately grabbed for their SMGs...Except for Djoord...

“Has anyone seen my SMG?  I left it by my bivvy and it seems to have gone” he said.

“Where’s my pack gone?” asked Gunar.

“...and my Binoculars have walked!” intoned Marise.

After a brief search it was discovered that on top of an SMG, pack and binoculars, various other things had disappeared; including rations, some dog-tags and a few items of spare clothing. 

Freidl held his head in his hands...

“I bet they never had this problem when fighting Bohkin” he said “this will be fun to explain to the boss when we get back”.

Freidl sighed and ordered the camp to be cleared ready for the move out.  He gave Djoord his pistol and suggested that it would be a very bad idea for him to lose it.  Once every thing was ready, the squad was assembled, formed into a standard patrol formation and began to march off into the trees.  They were going to have to head back to base and report what had happened and replace the kit that had gone missing.  Freidl was downcast as he knew that his squad would be a laughing stock for allowing a fully trussed Noblin to not only escape but to take a bunch of kit with it.  He was not looking forward to walking into the Sgt’s mess after work either.

“Fething Noblins!” Cursed Freidl as he turned the squad towards the direction of base and tried to think of a way of making his embarrassing little experience sound less of a comedy...but he couldn’t.

From the bushes, a pair of beady eyes watched the squad depart.  A grin formed on an almost skeletal, green face as it began to look through Gunar’s pack.  It had been a good night’s haul for the Noblin.  The boss would be very happy with his new treasures...
95
Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Kjaran.
« Last post by Inso on October 08, 2014, 06:56:29 PM »
Kjaran

Kjaran slammed himself against the rock wall as bullets whipped passed and ricocheted off the loose rubble where he had until recently been taking cover.

“Ana, have you managed to get through yet?  It’s getting a bit too warm for comfort around here”.

“Alpha control, this is Alpha one niner, we are pinned down at grid; figures 5165 6734.  Multiple hostiles are advancing on our position.  We are running low on payback and request immediate extraction; Over” shouted Ana into the microphone of her radio set.

“Alpha one niner, this is Alpha control, negative on extraction, supplies in bound; Out” was the rather curt reply.

“Sorry Sarge, we’re stuck here but control is sending supplies” Shouted Ana.

“Supplies!?  What the hell do they mean by supplies!?” was the rather bemused response from Kjaran.

Kjaran ducked down as he saw a Bohkin with a heavy machine gun aim in his direction and fire.  A steady stream of heavy calibre rounds slammed into the rock and ground nearby, kicking up great plumes of dust and debris.  Nearby there was a curse as Sven took a hit on his shoulder plate and was knocked to the ground; fortunately he was saved from harm by his trusty armour and he climbed to his feet and returned fire.  The Bohkin were massing nearby and appeared to be happy taking pot-shots at the Grymn patrol for now.  They hadn’t started to close in but seemed to be building up for a push in the near future.
 
The Grymn patrol was made up of five heavy infantry with an attached sniper.  They were armed with extremely effective weapons but were being pinned down as a result of the high level of incoming Bohkin fire.  Kjaran was the sergeant in charge and had made sure that all his troops had conserved their ammunition as much as they could but they were beginning to run low and were now getting to a point where they needed some help.  They were stuck and things were beginning to look very uncertain for them.  Kjaran was beginning to plan a desperate dash to freedom for his troops, when he noticed the sound of grav motors nearby.  He looked to his right and caught sight of a Grymn fast transport flying low over the rough terrain.  As it roared towards them, three large pallets fell from the back and hit the ground heavily in a shower of dust.

“Fething hell!” shouted Kjaran as the transport flew over head and disappeared “they’ve dropped the supplies too far away!”

Kjaran was furious.  He watched as some of the Bohkin broke off from the attack and started running towards the supplies.  His desperate dash for freedom was starting to look like the only option for his troops now.
 
Suddenly there was a grinding crunch from the supply crates and Kjaran looked towards them.  The sides had fallen away and they appeared to be getting taller.  Kjaran grabbed his monocular and watched as the contents of the crates began to unfold.  First they grew legs; then, what appeared to be a cockpit came into view.

“Sarge! “ shouted Ana “We’re getting comms chat from the supplies and they want to speak to you.”

Kjaran kept low and dashed over to Ana and grabbed the handset “this is Alpha one niner leader; send message; Over.” He said as bullets whipped up the dust where he had just been running.

A metallic voice replied “Alpha one niner leader; this is Eagle two.  It’s good to hear you are breathing; we’ll be joining you shortly; Out!”

Kjaran turned to Ana with a questioning look and she just shrugged her shoulders.  Neither had ever heard of call-sign Eagle before.  But whatever it was, appeared to be their only hope for survival at this moment in time so Kjaran was happy for any help he could get...no matter where it came from.
 
Kjaran ducked again as incoming rounds whizzed passed him.  He shouted to his troops to start giving more aggressive return fire as supplies had arrived so they could afford to be a little less frugal.  He popped his head above cover and fired his pulse gun; punching a fist sized hole through a Bohkin.  He was about to fire again when the sound of heavy weapon fire caught his attention and he glanced towards it.  Where the supplies had landed there was a great deal of confusion.  Bohkin were running away from the area, amidst the sound of anti-personnel rockets and chain-gun fire.  Kjaran watched as bodies began to fly into the air as the rockets found their mark, and other Bohkin were being shredded by the concentrated fire from a chain-gun.  Amidst the carnage, three metal giants strode; firing in all directions as they moved towards the Grymn position.  Of the Bohkin that had gone to investigate the crates, none remained whole.
 
The Bohkin fire lessened and Kjaran dared to peer above his cover to see what was happening in the Bohkin position.  One of the larger Bohkin appeared to be shouting at a smaller one who was pointing at the metal giant’s approach.  A number of other Bohkin were looking rather frightened and were fidgeting rather uncontrollably.  Kjaran saw his opportunity and with a shout of “Rapid Fire!!” let loose a stream of pulse rounds, felling the confused aliens in their droves.  The other Grymn followed suit and the Bohkin began to take better cover and snap out of their bemused state for long enough to return fire.  Although there was dissention in the enemy ranks, they still remained fairly effective.

Suddenly the Bohkin position erupted in a huge series of explosions.  Kjaran and his patrol flattened themselves against the ground as debris began to fall all around them.  The whine of chain-guns could be heard above the din as the multiple impacts found their marks amongst the soft bodies of the Bohkin.  After what seemed an age, the noise lessened and ceased.  The Grymn patrol remained flat against the ground for a short while and listened for movement.   Kjaran was startled by a tap on the shoulder and rolled quickly to bring his weapon to bear.  He looked straight into the face of an impeccably dressed Grymn in a jet black flight-suit and helmet. 

“Sorry about the delay sergeant, we couldn’t leave until we’d toasted the mission...and we’d run out of mead” said the newcomer as he proffered his hand towards Kjaran; who grasped it and was helped to his feet.

“Sorry, sir...but I don’t recognise your unit” replied a quizzical looking Kjaran.

“That’s alright sergeant...it doesn’t exist” said the newcomer, who winked as he passed a small satchel towards Kjaran.

“What’s this?” asked Kjaran.

“Your supplies of course, sergeant” The officer replied with a smile.  He then turned on his heels and walked away.

Kjaran looked into the satchel and found five small pulse-gun power packs and a box of 20 sniper rounds.  He looked over towards the officer who was nimbly climbing into the cockpit of an armoured walking machine with various heavy weapons mounted on it.  It was painted in matt jet black and had a gloss black eagle, with spread wings, emblazoned across the front.  He then looked towards the Bohkin position and could see that it had been completely and utterly obliterated.  He returned his glance towards the armoured walker as it raised itself up from the crouched position it had been in, to allow the officer to climb in, and steadied itself on sturdy, armoured legs.  From the cockpit the officer could be seen to flip down a monocle and flick some overhead switches before he glanced a look at Kjaran, grinned broadly and looked to his front, before firing up the motors and striding off; closely followed by two other walkers.

The Grymn patrol was left in stunned silence; staring after the walkers as they disappeared into the distance.

“What the hell was that?” asked Ana.

“That” said Kjaran “was a delivery of supplies” and he handed each of his troops the single re-loads that had been delivered.

“Humph!” said Sven “they could have bought some chocolate!”
96
Suggestions (HF) / Further Galactic Navy Figures
« Last post by Grif on October 08, 2014, 05:21:50 PM »
The "Tabitha" figure, if given a yellow dress in the style of the comms officer and nurse, would make an excellent starship captain...
Grif
97
Announcements and News / Re: Sculpting Competition *NEW THREAD*
« Last post by Steel Penguin on October 08, 2014, 05:10:34 PM »
Think ive got mine sorted out now,  I had an attack of the thickos, but Jen and Artemis soon explained and helped.   :thumbup:
thank you to both of you for that.  And now I can sit back and wait for the lead  :woohoo:
98
WIPs of Doom / Re: Inso's WIP of Doom!
« Last post by Brandlin on October 08, 2014, 01:20:26 PM »
I have a plan.
It involves a lot of plasticard, a couple of CDs and a pop bottle :).

It'l be a grand day out ;)

Lol
99
Hasslefree / Re: Fungus Folk (Agarix)
« Last post by Internalclock on October 08, 2014, 12:54:05 PM »
 :thumbup:
100
Hasslefree / Re: Fungus Folk (Agarix)
« Last post by Inso on October 08, 2014, 12:27:19 PM »
Nice work :) .

I am a big fan of the Agarix but they don't seem to get a lot of 'air time'... which is a shame :(
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