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PostPosted: Thu May 01, 2014 5:03 pm 
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Played an intro game of Cap vs Bauhaus. I was introducing a guy to the game (he was another KS tragic like me, but hadn't had time to assemble his forces yet). However, I've tried my hand at 'writing up' the battle report in full. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: this is initial draft stage. It could probably use a decent edit and better descriptions.

Bob watched the smoke trail of the aircraft as it passed on overhead.
Damn fools, he thought. Can’t keep up with reports. Damn flyboys.
He turned to the two men in front of him. Joe Markowski and Eddie Griffin, his Marine squad leaders, had been helping him raise hell in the old industrial complex for two weeks now. While they made the security situation seem tenuous on the ground, his corporate masters negotiated with the Bauhaus representatives over the terms of sale. The worse he made things look on the ground, the lower the price would be.
‘Boys’, he grumbled, chewing on his unlit cigar, ‘looks like we have a delivery.’
Joe spat. Eddie was cleaning his fingernails with his knife, the massive machete looking comical compared with his grimy hands.
‘How long, boss?’ Joe stared at him levelly.
‘Got somewhere to be, Joe?’
Markowski spat again. Bob turned to his companion.
‘Eddie, you with me or trying to get pretty?’
Eddie didn’t look up, but flicked his wrist and hurled the machete into the ground between Bob’s feet.
‘Capn.’ He said.
Bob sighed and stood, calmly striding the handful of paces that separated them and grabbed each man by the throat, lifting them into the air.
‘You boys have got a task, what more you want? Roses? Medals? A hot meal? Grow up.’ He dropped them onto the deck. ‘Eddie, go and get Schafer to round his crew up, they’re on overwatch. Joe, wipe that damn frown off your face before I smack it off, then wake up Peters and get that Orca running. I don’t plan to starve while we wait for Corporate to get done what they’re doing, so I’m going down after those containers. Feel free to join me anytime you’re done whining.’
He turned on his heel and strode off.

By the time he’d strapped on his harness frame and hefted both Atlas Megacannons, Bob was happy to see a little more life in his team. The Orca was ticking over, the massive walker swaying on its thick legs as the gunner swarmed over it, running final checks. Schafer had his skull-helm under one arm as he pored over the map of the area, the scar across his head livid with purple.
Most importantly of all, his Marines, his beloved Free Marines, were kitted and ready. They stood covered in splatters of grease and mud, laden with worn equipment and tattered clothes, their lean forms looking hungry. Keen edges could be seen on their blades, and their rifles were kept clean and dry.
To his eyes, there wasn’t a better sight in the world.
‘Right, boys,’ Bob strode over to the map.
‘Canisters came down here. There ain’t any reports of enemy positions in the area, but the CAF seem to think that we’re still using it as a base. Since we’ve moved out of there, the scavengers have moved in, so don’t expect anything to be where you left it. Geordi, we ain’t gonna find your watch there, so don’t even think of looking.’
There was a bleak ripple of laughter before he continued.
‘Peters. You and I will move in from the main complex. We should be looking through those three storage towers to the west of our old hidey-hole. Joe, Eddie, you’ll work in from the North and South simultaneously, and get into the towers. You’re my security- once I locate the goods, we’ll put the Orca in place-’
‘Jenny.’ Peters corrected him, with a smile on his face. Bob grinned back.
‘-we’ll put Jenny into a close guard position and you kids can haul ass back to position romeo three with our supplies. Scafer,’ The Banshee leader raised his hand in acknowledgement but didn’t take his eyes off the map, ‘you’re our ready reserve. Stay close enough for me to call on you.’
Bob looked around, glad to see a full set of engaged faces.
‘Just keep your eyes open. There was talk from Intel that the pointy hats were sending in a troubleshooter for them. I don’t want to be surprised. Any questions?’ Heads shook.
‘Alright, move out.’

The towers emerged out of the misty gloom of the Venusian night. There was enough power to keep general lighting on throughout the sprawling industrial compound, but here in this abandoned district the visibility was starting to slip. A dull breeze creaked through the unoccupied watch towers standing sentinel around the towers, and Bob afforded himself a chuckle at the sight of the defence towers looking quite small next to the thing they were supposed to protect.
He nodded to Peters, perched high up in the lumbering war machine’s cupola, and the two headed in different directions. Jenny skirted to the right of the scene, intending to use the high ground to give a clear field of fire. Bob headed for the centre of the towers, through some rusting work vehicles. He saw a tiny flicker of light and allowed himself a small sigh of relief- his Marines were there.
Peering ahead into the gloom, he could just make out the outline of the nearest of the containers. It sat awkwardly at the foot of the retaining wall in the centre of the three towers. He keyed his subvocal.
«All units, I’m about to start the recon run. How copy?»
«Griffin, ready, north tower, level 1.»
«Markowski, we have eyes on you boss.»
«Peters, systems nominal, cap.»
«Schafer. Roosting.»
It was at that point that Bob detected movement. On the other side of the towers, he could see a handful of troops. Their upright stances and halting running style instantly identified them as Bauhaus. However, he noticed one figure in the middle, striding with purpose. The Troubleshooter?
Before he could send a warning to his troops, all hell broke loose. Piles of junk and rusting crates revealed themselves in a hiss of steam, and Bauhaus war machines emerged. To his right, a trio of massive walking battlesuits pushed out of the rubble and bathed the first level of the tower in flames.
To his left, a wooden crate exploded into mouldy splinters as a larger walker turned a stream of burning petrochemicals onto Joe’s squad.
He heard screaming over the comm, and saw red.
Racing forward, he started to spin the megacannons up to speed, and ducked behind the back of an ambulance, loosing off a burst of fire. A figure crumpled in the distance.
«Scafer, left flank, go!»
«Moving.»
There was a piercing shriek as the jet-packs fired and drove the Banshees into the fight. They spread as they came down, pulling limpet mines from their gear and getting ready to fight.
«Enemy Vulkan. Engaging.»
Schafer pointed silently to a box at his feet and one of his men grabbed the supply container. The rest leapt at the back of the Vulkan, slapping the charges on it wherever they could find a purchase. Bob saw a series of small flashes detonate, and for a moment the machine wobbled on its feet. However, if there was one thing that Bauhaus knew, it was how to build redundant systems and strong armour. The Vulkan started to turn, stomping around like an angry chicken.
Then the fight got personal once more. Bob heard the creak of multiple doors opening, and realised that the derelict vehicles he’d moved through were inhabited. He didn’t even have time to turn before he was being peppered with shots and nearly engulfed by a fireball. He looked over his shoulder, hefting his Megacannons into the air to spin around.
Hugging the corners of the vehicles, Bob saw a collection of women in dull, black armour. Their hair was crazy, as though a gang of punks had nothing better to do than sign up.
Then he saw the pistol levelled directly at his face, and the world slowed down. His eyes pulled in every detail- her grease-blackened features, the cruel sneer on her face, the shaved sides of her head with the ridiculous dirty-blonde fringe. He saw her eyes, and there was no hint of mania, no hint of fear. They were pools of cold, green death.
She fired.
Big Bob Watts’ head snapped backwards with the impact of the headshot. He collapsed, sprawling on the concrete.
«Cap? Cap!» There was desperation in Markowski’s voice. He and his only surviving squad mate raced around the tower, only to find the giant black man face-down.
They also found a quintet of warrior women darting towards them, moving from cover to cover. They fired a salvo of shots from their pistols, and both Joe and Geordi ducked behind what little cover there was.
Then one of their foes stepped into the open space between the two cars and levelled her weapon. Joe smelled it before he saw it- the acrid, bile-like stench of the Ghenna Puker. She angled it towards him.
Ètoiles Mortant, huh? Dying stars, indeed.
They were his last thoughts as the fireball consumed him.

* * * * *

Angelika Drachen waved the Hussars over to her left flank. They needed to support the Juggernauts against that enemy Orca, and their ARG-17 Rocket Launcher was the right tool for the right job.
She crashed into the wall of the nearest tower, and quickly took stock of the situation. On the right, the Vulkan was being peppered with anti-tank grenades by the enemy Banshees. On her left, the Juggernaughts were taking fire from the Orca.
The gunner sighted on the heavily-armoured Panzerhussars with his machine-gun and let off a short burst. One of the Juggernauts stumbled but got back into the fight.
Angelika then spotted the thing that would complete her mission- a pair of supply crates. Von Feldmann had asked for proof of who was attacking the complex, and what they were intending to get out of it. In those crates could lie her answer- if they could just get them to safety before the enemy did.
‘Achtung! The crates!’
The two nearest Hussars responded to her voice as though they’d been shot. They followed her pointing finger and nodded in comprehension of what they had to do. Both of them vaulted the cooling corpse of their squad-mate, who lay sprawled in the open space with his arm lying at an impossible angle.
The Orca continued to dominate the skyline, lumbering into a better position before opening up with its full array of weapons. Angelika had to shield her eyes from the blinding light of muzzle flashes and rocket charges. She shook her head to clear the concussive effects and saw another Juggernaut limping, trailing a greasy smear of hydraulic fluid.
Spinning on her heel, she left the troops to deal with the enemy armour. Her job lay elsewhere.
She darted around the side of the hexagonal tower, whipping her Neurolash from its holster. She charged at the melee swarming around the Vulkan, and slashed out with the charged tendrils of the whip, the ends sparking harmlessly off the armour of the Banshee.
A snarling skull mask whipped around to face her. The Banshee tossed a limpet mine almost absentmindedly over his shoulder at the Vulkan before drawing his knife and approaching her.
This creature was death incarnate. It came at Angelika like an avenging shadow, coloured in blacks, greys and purples to camouflage it against the long Venusian night. The deep pools of its dead eyes didn’t waver from her as it tossed the long knife from palm to palm, stalking forward like an assured predator.
Angelika had seen worse. She was sure that her own skull mask was a far better look than this walking cartoon, and she made her displeasure known by putting a bullet through the Banshee’s eye.
The Vulkan was trailing cables, pipes and sections of armour. The pilot had managed to turn it around to face its tormentors, but it was a losing battle.
The corner of Angelika’s mouth curled upwards in a humourless smile. She readied the neurolash and charged forward.

Jurgen shuddered inside his armour at the latest salvo from the Orca. His was the only heavy Panzerhussar suit undamaged. He saw the lighter Hussars moving up around him and knew that it was time to advance.
Jurgen advanced to the retaining wall, spraying the walker with a few short bursts of machine-gun fire.
Mathieus, his team leader, vaulted the retaining wall and dashed towards the Orca. They all knew that the only safe place from all the guns was as close as they could get to the steel beast.
Before Mathieus made it, a salvo of rockets rippled from the Orca. Johan, the other member of their team, immediately lost a leg and dropped to the concrete. Jurgen’s eyes narrowed.
At that point, he saw the snub muzzle of a rocket launcher appear from behind the building. The Hussar manning the weapon aimed for the Orca, and Jurgen realised too late what was about to happen.
Mathieus leapt as high as he could, scrabbling across the front armour of the machine. His hydraulic fists punched a dent into the rounded nose of the walker, before it happened.
There was a loud bang, and the Hussar’s rocket flew strait and true at the Orca. It was only then that the Hussar realised who else was in the way, and the rocket blasted through Matheius’ back, killing him instantly. The mangled wreckage of his suit slid off the side of the enemy craft, landing with the sound of a dropped vehicle.
Jurgen screamed in anguish and looked back at the Hussar. The trooper was clearly horrified at what he’d done. The next moment, he was a dirty smear on the landscape and across Jurgen’s front after the Orca responded with a rocket of its own.
He knew what had to be done.
Clambering up to the Orca’s level, Jurgen raced at the machine as fast as his servomotors would let him. The massive inertia of the Juggernaut suit slowed his movements, but he was hoping that the Orca’s movements would be worse. He ducked under the barrel of the underbelly shotgun, then reached up and grasped onto the first thing that he could.
When that turned out to be an exhaust, he turned and smashed his other hand into the same area. Finding purchase, he squeezed and held on for dear life as the pilot threw the walker in any direction it could to try to dislodge the Bauhaus warrior.
Jurgen reached up with his free hand and began tearing off what components he could.

Justine urged her fellow Ètoiles onward. Their opening gambit was successful, and the leader of this band of soldiers lay behind them. Now they had to follow through and carve a path of destruction into the heart of the enemy.
These were not visibly the foul demons of the Dark Legion, but one could never be too certain about the allegiances of men. Heretics bloomed in the lawless zones where fighting occurred, and where the dark flourished, she would provide disinfectant.
Two men appeared on the walkway above, and Justine motioned her sisters into cover. They melded with the terrain, firing short groups of shots into the building in an alternating pattern. Katerina jogged forward and turned the torch on them, immolating one.
The other looked surprised to see soldiers where he clearly didn’t expect them and rattled off a few rounds that went wide of the mark. Justine didn’t like their odds when using pistols against his rifle, and she gave Henrietta a tap on the shoulder to indicate what to do next.
Henrietta, the most agile of them all, darted to the wall and began to climb the façade. She grabbed the ledge and moved to haul herself up, but the enemy warrior was too fast. He stomped on her fingers and her swing onto the walkway ended with her flat on her back, winded on the concrete. Justine immediately followed her, vaulting from one wall to the next, grabbing the guard rail and swinging into position behind the man.
He turned to meet her, his machete in hand. His armour was minimalist, and Justine immediately noticed the necklace of ears hanging around his neck. Disgusting.
He swung his blade up into position, but Justine was faster. She cut downwards, slicing a large chunk from the man’s bicep. He screamed and dropped the machete he was carrying, but Justine wasn’t ready to leave him as he was.
She spun the punisher blade in her hand and drove it into the man’s unarmoured abdomen, twisting and pulling the blade free. The blade was barely clear of the man’s flesh when she rammed it upwards through his jaw.
She let him slump to the ground, and looked around for more targets. Her only companions were the two corpses. The sounds of battle were clear on the other side of the tower, though, and she motioned with her head to the rest of her squad.
They immediately fanned out besides the building, making a tight battle line with weapons ready. Justine had other ideas, though.
She lined up one of the combatants that were harassing the Vulkan, measured the distance, and began to sprint.

* * * * *

Schafer saw Michaels go limp and fall to the ground, and then he noticed the interloper to their party.
She was of moderate height, wearing a braided jacket over her body armour and carrying a pistol and some form of whip. Her face was pinched in a vaguely amused expression, and a small shock of blonde hair seemed to lend her a juvenile appearance.
Schafer punched a limpet mine into a cavity in the Bauhaus walker’s engine bay, and then pulled his knife out. Behind him, Mendes followed up on his strike by firing half a dozen rounds into the new gap. There was a short cry of pain, and the walker’s controls fizzled as the pilot’s body was penetrated by the multiple rounds.
The distraction was all the time the woman needed. There was a flash, and the arcing lines of the whip played across Schafer’s armour. His flesh burned with pain in sharp streaks, and he stumbled but didn’t fall.
He drove the heel of his foot down and dashed at the newcomer, trying to tackle her and use the bulk of his armoured suit to dash her against the pavement.
As he got within arm’s reach, however, he felt his legs go weak and crash out from under him. He saw the sparking leads of the whip curled around his upper thigh, and as much as he tried to stand, he couldn’t.
The woman sauntered up to him, calmly blasting away with her pistol. Mendes jerked backwards in surprise at the headshot.
His Banshees dead around him, Schafer glared at the Bauhaus noblewoman. She looked him in the eye, a hint of mirth playing about her own. With a shake of her head, she tutted him.
‘Tsk, tsk, tsk.’
Then she turned her wrist and the fire exploded from his leg through his whole body.

Bob figured it was time to move again. He grabbed his harness and cannons, now useless without a working power supply, and crawled away behind an abandoned rescue vehicle. A last glance over his shoulder confirmed that the Bauhaus had his crates and were pulling back.
The Orca still stood, albeit with ugly black smoke pouring from the engine. He keyed his subvocal.
«Peters, mission’s a bust. See them off, then we’re going to have to abandon Jenny.»
«Cap? Damn, what? You lost your mind?»
«We’re done. Hurry up and fire off your ammo, then set charges. We’ve got a long walk outta here.»
Bob fingered the streak of the round that had felled him. It was a good thing that the doc had installed that plate after the last blow to the head, he thought. It should scar well enough to please the ladies, at least.
He looked to the sky and started fantasising about a stiff drink.
Can’t keep up with reports. Damn flyboys.


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PostPosted: Thu May 01, 2014 5:35 pm 
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Location: Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Awesome! Great inspiration! Like your style!


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PostPosted: Thu May 01, 2014 8:44 pm 
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Location: Indian Land SC
Awesome story. Really enjoyed it. That chick with the whip must be a beast.


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PostPosted: Fri May 02, 2014 9:35 pm 
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Very nice. Enjoyed the narrative style and you should make a series out of it.


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PostPosted: Sat May 03, 2014 12:02 am 
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Thanks guys.

@Raven, I got the impression that she was intended to be rather brutal. P.S., you can find her here: http://shop.prodosgames.com/en/bauhaus- ... achen.html

@Kurt_R, this was just a battle report. I've been intending to write a series of shorts with original characters in the Warzone setting, but it's just a matter of finding the time. If you're interested, keep an eye on the factions forums over the next month.


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PostPosted: Fri Feb 20, 2015 10:22 pm 
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Great stuff dude. Would buy the novel!


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PostPosted: Sun Mar 08, 2015 2:51 pm 
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Thanks mate... keep you eyes peeled, sometime over the next couple of years hopefully there will be a source of novels in the MC/WZ universe. until then, keep reading CTC Magazine!


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