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 Formidable Foe Frags Us Good

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Phlegm

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Number of posts : 751
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Formidable Foe Frags Us Good   Tue 9 Feb - 17:50:37

Formidable Foe Frags* Us Good
*Other adjectives are available

So last time you joined us you will recall we had just prevented the escape of the converted freighter bringing it down after it had barely raised itself more than two or three metres from the ground. Sar on board was knocked to the floor by the impact and we could all relax after a job well done. All we had to do now was board her and hold until relieved by our favourite disfigured patron, Bob Sinclair and his 80,000 men.

Except a minor glitch then occurred which slightly modified this happy picture and the eventual outcome: Thud noted several noteworthy figures amongst the confused crowds; two men were floating up to the roof of the civilian compound next door and another, having effortlessly shinned up a ten metre wall, was firing up a Hydra missile battery and bringing it to bear on the downed freighter. Another man was sitting in a damaged bunker, incongruous because of his relaxed posture, apparently completely confident and in control.

The Hydra* battery now fired on the recently stalled starship and already badly damaged, its hits caused severe and immediate havoc. Sar teleported clear as the ship was wracked by explosions and Corbyn, SAM and Skarl below scrambled clear, getting some distance between them the potential blast zone.**

*We were unable to come up with any fish related missile names
**Although to be fair the several miles distance required for safety was unlikely to be achieved in time.


Sar then had an attack of ‘I think I might really be in command here’ syndrome and in a brilliant tactical manoeuvre straight from the fabled tactical manual penned millennia before by the great commanders Hanna and Barbera, he ordered us to split up, reasoning that spreading out our meagre forces meant that we could be ineffective across a far wider area.*

*And to be fair, we duly were.

Group 1, code named Fred and Daphne would head for the arrogant big boss sitting in the bunker. Group 2, code named Shaggy and Scooby would head for the hydra, only stopping if they encountered any kitchens with sufficient resources to build and consume unfeasibly large sandwiches, and group 3, code named Velma would engage the rooftop trio as long as her optics held out.

SAM and Corbyn unfortunately were then both shot. Corbyn after wounding one of the rooftop observers, SAM as he set up his heavy cutter. Corbyn lay bleeding out reflecting as his consciousness slipped away how much more effective his Haze field would have been had he bothered to switch it on. Thud meanwhile switched to default plan A* and threw an inaccurate grenade, then a better placed one but with inconclusive effect.

*Actually default plans A-Z are all pretty much the same

Thud then fell back to assist SAM and Skarl to try and heal Corbyn, leaving Sar feeling very alone as he charged towards the enemy leader, whose obvious lack of concern would have worried a lesser* man than the child slayer.** Sar tried to take the man by surprise with a last minute teleport ploy but landing with his foot in a metal litter receptacle only achieved a slightly less noisy approach than SAM, who had jumped into a dustbin briefly to avoid enemy fire and now was legging it heroically back towards our ship, Thud gamely trying to keep up in his wake.

*Or possibly more intelligent
**The afore mentioned enemy leader was playing patience whilst updating his facebook status to ‘Beating puny Psyker to a pulp with my monoblade’ and completing a matchstick model of the spaceport control tower on Merakis IV.


So it was down to Skarl to show some heroism now, and this she did, heroically activating Corbyn’s Haze field and slapping a Lazarus patch on the fallen navigator. And again. And again. Until he died. Post mortem examinations would later show that she had failed to read page 37 of the user manual, section 19 paragraph b sub clause 2a which clearly states ‘On no account secure the patch to the face as this may impair oxygen supply vital the patient’s nasal and oral passageways. Recent research has shown that this is a quite important factor in patient recovery.’

Meanwhile in another (safer) part of town, Thud and SAM approached the car park where the ship had been so cleverly positioned. Unfortunately the area was home to a large number of defending troops who were digging in as the assault continued. SAM and Thud withdrew prudently to the sewers, where they immediately felt right at home.

Just Sar to catch up with and we’re all up to date. Saved the best till last? Well, not exactly: His attack was not exactly going well as the enemy commander was now reliving his silver medal winning performance in the Triskelion Sector’s primitive weapon combat championships (Monoblade category) and was also slightly upset as his card game had been interrupted and one of the many wild swings by our good captain had demolished his matchstick space tower, three years under construction and three minutes from completion prior to Sar’s arrival.*

*OK perhaps there’s some poetic licence here but I’m trying to convey just how great the gulf in class was between the protagonists


Sar was badly wounded. And again. Then it looked like he had connected, but with balletic grace his foe slipped away from what should have been a telling blow. To make matters worse. The three guys from the rooftop now arrived and that was Sar done and dusted. He engaged his cheating psychic powers overloading his puny brain cells as he tried to call on non-existent reserves of energy to heal himself. He managed this eventually and struggled to his feet to find himself alone.

A frantic call on the coms from Skarl sent him racing / teleporting/ brain frying across the compound to Corbyn’s body, where another body punishing burst of psychic energy brought Corbyn back from the brink.* Sar and Skarl limped off dragging the body off to a slightly stinky reunion in the sewers with the rest of the crew. Further healing after some sort of psychic group hug with SAM brought a pathetically grateful Corbyn round.**

*Thus preventing the arrival of Magenta De Frille
**All who witnessed it were moved by the touching outpouring of gratitude from the navigator.


We regained the ship with some slightly noisy stealth work, especially when Thud decided to have a look outside the range of the Haze field. We discovered that our good friend Bob was anxious to debrief us.* We sent a report to the Rimaldi, who of course we recalled had ordered the destruction of the transport ship so perhaps it wasn’t so bad. We decided better to return to them rather than discuss the finer points of the mission with Bob ‘and make sure that you don’t so much as scratch the paintwork on that ship’ Sinclair.

*Possibly a euphemism.

Lifting off with some brilliant piloting by SAM, NOT, we manage to evade a few desultory shots and hardly anything important fell off* as we scooted out of the atmosphere. Thanks to Corbyn’s effective navigation we made the return to Sirigallis in an impressive six days. Days in which Skarl underwent thorough refreshing on the use and application of Lazarus patches and Corbyn spent a lot of time spiking her food and drink with various dead insect body parts.

*This week’s account acknowledges the debt to Serenity at this point.

Sar meanwhile, looking somewhat paler, punier and stupider than before, passed a lot of time with ice packs on his head reflecting on the loneliness of command and wondering why he felt so much dumber. We hope that the Rimaldi will be happier with us than we expect Bob is, mind you Bob has never been the same since his slightly less than impressive C5 scout ship design that brought him universal ridicule and scorn.

6.2.16
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