Friday, 26 February 2010
Thursday, 25 February 2010
The Tigers are Born.
This is a small story about how inspirational leadership doesn't have to come from a high ranking officer...
Sgt. Torge (pronounced Tor-gay) stood on the edge of the cliff and pondered on what he saw below. Amongst all the natural outcrops and local flora, there was a host of metallic shapes and pallets, with Bohkin and their attendant species bustling about in between them. It was clear that they hadn’t been planet side for long because they were still busy erecting bio-spheres and hab-domes. All around was the hustle and bustle of making camp and preparing defences. Torge could make out the beginnings of bunkers and defensive positions and he noticed that there were a large number of Bohkin standing guard amongst the organised chaos going on around them. In his mind he was noting the positions of each group of guards and where the best cover was. He also noticed the raggedy looking Bohkin who tended the livestock pens; those pens that contained the food and the Dino-hounds that always accompanied the Bohkin on these sorts of expeditions. He made sure he had fixed their positions as well; he wasn’t a fan of the Dino-hounds as they were a nightmare to dispatch at close quarters. He was hoping to keep them in their pens.
‘Torge!’ there was a shout from behind; far too loud for the situation.
Torge ducked quickly so as not to be seen and crawled over to where the voice had come from.
‘Sir, you need to keep your voice down,’ he said ‘you’ll give us away!’
‘Ha! You treat these beasts as equals!’ said Lieutenant Sturmwulf ‘get off your knees and prepare your squad for battle’.
‘Yes sir’ Torge replied ‘do you want to know where the hot spots will be?’
‘Hot-spots?’ Came a bemused reply ‘we will reap them like corn…there will be no resistance!’
‘So be it’ said Torge as he saluted and left to muster his squad ‘the Grymn’s an arse’ he said under his breath as he went.
A little way back from the lip of the cliff, Torge’s squad was gathered. They were all armoured in the standard tan plate but their shoulders, helms and jump-packs were orange with black tiger stripes; Torge’s Tigers, one and all. Torge was similarly attired but for his white plates instead of the orange ones; befitting his rank as squad leader.
‘Sarge, what’s the verdict?’ asked Ana, a red-headed girl whose temper was as fiery as her hair.
‘The Grymn’s an arse!’ replied Torge.
‘Tell us something we don’t know!’ Said Antar, as he hefted his grenade launcher into a more comfortable position.
‘What’s the plan?’ asked Pjotir.
‘Oh, the plan…’ teased Torge ‘gather round and I’ll tell you’.
After a quick briefing, the Tigers gathered up their weapons, checked their equipment and prepared for the coming assault. The call went out (rather too loudly in Torge’s mind) for the squadron to gather and they all met near the edge of the cliff. There was a motley mix of different squads; all with different markings and paint schemes (there was no unity in the squadron and it was something that Torge hated…it seemed more like a gentleGrymn’s club than a military unit) and Sturmwulf was at the front of them.
‘Gather round!’ Bawled Sturmwulf ‘the enemy is down there and we are up here…well?...fire up and let’s get going!’
With that, Sturmwulf and his squad of Scarlets fired their jump-packs and had leaped over the edge, into the Bohkin camp.
‘That fething idiot is going to get us all killed!’ stormed Torge ‘quickly, before the surprise is gone!’
As one, Torge’s Tigers fired up and launched into the fray; closely followed by the rest of the squadron. Below them, in the canyon there was chaos as the Bohkin started gathering their wits under the initial, ill advised assault of the lead squad. The incoming fire was far too accurate and Torge cursed Sturmwulf for his arrogance. He could see that the idiot and his squad were blasting away at everything that moved without any form of plan or idea of tactics. He could also see that they were being whittled down and needed help.
‘WITH ME!’ shouted Torge ‘the boss is in trouble!’
The Tigers leapt after him as he raced towards the stricken lieutenant.
‘Form a perimeter and give covering fire!’ ordered Torge ‘Ana, take Alun and guard the dino-pens…I don’t want them coming out to play!’
‘Yes Boss!’ grinned Ana as she and Alun launched over to the pens, felling Bohkin with every well aimed shot.
‘What are you doing?’ cried Sturmwulf ‘you’re spoiling the hunt!’
‘The hunt, sir?’ Torge stared in disbelief at the lieutenant ‘I had no idea that you were as blind as you have become!’
As Sturmwulf stared madly at Torge, the Sgt spun on his heels and caught the lieutenant on the jaw with the base of his assault pistol. As he dropped to the floor Torge looked down at him…
‘It’s for your own good.’
From that moment on, it was a blur of fighting and swirling melee. Both sides fought well but the Grymn soon got the upper hand under Torge’s leadership and they eventually destroyed the Bohkin utterly. Even the livestock was killed and everything was burned. The Grymn then called in the casevac units and began bagging the fallen. It was not a pleasant task and Torge knew that there wouldn’t have been as many if the lieutenant hadn’t been such a fool.
Speaking of the lieutenant, he was in custody awaiting the arrival of captain Torsten.
It wasn’t long before Torsten arrived and Torge was called to answer for his crime; assaulting an officer was a serious offense, with a severe penalty. Seniority was almost revered in Grymn society and its armed forces were no exception.
‘I never thought I’d be asking this of you, Torge’ said Torsten ‘but what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘I saw no option but to relieve the lieutenant from duty due to his foolhardy and reckless disregard for the welfare of his troops’ said Torge and he went on to explain what happened during the pre assault planning and the assault itself.
Torsten listened carefully, questioning where he needed to and summed up what had happened.
‘I will go as far to say that you have behaved in a manner that goes against the prime directives of our martial code.’ Torsten stared grimly at Torge as he spoke. ‘Furthermore, you behaved in a dishonourable way that goes against what civilised society would deem acceptable’. The stare continued. ‘It is my judgement that you are guilty of assaulting an officer and taking over command of his squadron…also known as mutiny.’
Torsten called up a provost officer and said ‘relieve the Sgt of his rank’. Torge’s heart sank as the officer removed the stripes from his shoulder pad. With equal tone in his voice, Torsten addressed the gathered Grymn…
‘For the crime of assaulting a senior officer and committing mutiny, Torge will no longer hold the rank of Sgt.’ Torsten continued ‘for his noble act of duty to the Grymn army and, without thought for his personal honour, the successful commandeering and leadership of a squadron of ill prepared assault troops, he will now be referred to as Lieutenant Torge and will hold all the responsibilities and duties that the rank entails.’
Torsten continued ‘lieutenant Sturmwulf has been relieved of duty and is currently under medical care in the sanatorium. He had seen one too many battles and is unlikely to ever take to the field again.’
Torge stood on the edge of the cliff and viewed the scene below. The Bohkin camp was well prepared; the defenses were in place and were manned to the correct levels. He watched as the guards scanned the area for hostiles and patrolled the perimeter. He noted the positions of the Dino-hound pens and where all the support weapons were held. He noted areas of the best cover and where fire-arcs would be the best. He sniffed the air and tested the wind direction before turning around to see Ana, Alun, Antar and Thor standing a few yards away looking at him.
‘So, what’s the verdict, sir?’ said Thor as he looked down at his officer.
Torge looked up into the OGrymn’s face and smiled…
‘The camp is well defended and well drilled’ he said ‘they will be a good test of our mettle’.
‘Ana’ he said ‘gather the Tigers and prepare them for a briefing.’
‘Yes sir’ she said as she turned and walked towards the gaggle of white shouldered Tigers that were gathered a few yards away. After the Sgts had been briefed, Torge looked over at his squadron and smiled. There were over a hundred Grymn, all equipped in the standard tan plate armour. They all had orange shoulder-pads, helms and jump-packs decorated with black tiger stripes. They were all led by the white padded Sgts of their squads and they were all trained to react instantly to the orders they received. He walked forwards as the Sgts gathered their squads into parade ground lines, using hand signals rather than vocal commands. He stood to the front of the parade and speaking quietly, he addressed them all.
‘Your Sgt’s are well briefed, your weapons are loaded, and you are filled with the spirit of battle so you will not fail.’ Torge continued ‘together we will clean the filth from the gully…prepare your weapons, we launch in two.’
The sound of muffled weapons being prepared was barely audible as the squads fanned out along the cliff edge in preparation for the assault. Everyone knew their objective and everyone was eager to achieve it.
‘Tigers!’ said Torge to the barely restrained mass of troops ‘fire up and get your claws out!’
As one, the Tigers fired their jump-packs and as they launched into the air Thor shouted in his booming, OGrymn voice…
‘WHOSE TIGERS?’
The reply was a deafening roar that filled the valley with sound…
‘TORGE’S TIGERS!’
And death fell upon the Bohkin…
Sgt. Torge (pronounced Tor-gay) stood on the edge of the cliff and pondered on what he saw below. Amongst all the natural outcrops and local flora, there was a host of metallic shapes and pallets, with Bohkin and their attendant species bustling about in between them. It was clear that they hadn’t been planet side for long because they were still busy erecting bio-spheres and hab-domes. All around was the hustle and bustle of making camp and preparing defences. Torge could make out the beginnings of bunkers and defensive positions and he noticed that there were a large number of Bohkin standing guard amongst the organised chaos going on around them. In his mind he was noting the positions of each group of guards and where the best cover was. He also noticed the raggedy looking Bohkin who tended the livestock pens; those pens that contained the food and the Dino-hounds that always accompanied the Bohkin on these sorts of expeditions. He made sure he had fixed their positions as well; he wasn’t a fan of the Dino-hounds as they were a nightmare to dispatch at close quarters. He was hoping to keep them in their pens.
‘Torge!’ there was a shout from behind; far too loud for the situation.
Torge ducked quickly so as not to be seen and crawled over to where the voice had come from.
‘Sir, you need to keep your voice down,’ he said ‘you’ll give us away!’
‘Ha! You treat these beasts as equals!’ said Lieutenant Sturmwulf ‘get off your knees and prepare your squad for battle’.
‘Yes sir’ Torge replied ‘do you want to know where the hot spots will be?’
‘Hot-spots?’ Came a bemused reply ‘we will reap them like corn…there will be no resistance!’
‘So be it’ said Torge as he saluted and left to muster his squad ‘the Grymn’s an arse’ he said under his breath as he went.
A little way back from the lip of the cliff, Torge’s squad was gathered. They were all armoured in the standard tan plate but their shoulders, helms and jump-packs were orange with black tiger stripes; Torge’s Tigers, one and all. Torge was similarly attired but for his white plates instead of the orange ones; befitting his rank as squad leader.
‘Sarge, what’s the verdict?’ asked Ana, a red-headed girl whose temper was as fiery as her hair.
‘The Grymn’s an arse!’ replied Torge.
‘Tell us something we don’t know!’ Said Antar, as he hefted his grenade launcher into a more comfortable position.
‘What’s the plan?’ asked Pjotir.
‘Oh, the plan…’ teased Torge ‘gather round and I’ll tell you’.
After a quick briefing, the Tigers gathered up their weapons, checked their equipment and prepared for the coming assault. The call went out (rather too loudly in Torge’s mind) for the squadron to gather and they all met near the edge of the cliff. There was a motley mix of different squads; all with different markings and paint schemes (there was no unity in the squadron and it was something that Torge hated…it seemed more like a gentleGrymn’s club than a military unit) and Sturmwulf was at the front of them.
‘Gather round!’ Bawled Sturmwulf ‘the enemy is down there and we are up here…well?...fire up and let’s get going!’
With that, Sturmwulf and his squad of Scarlets fired their jump-packs and had leaped over the edge, into the Bohkin camp.
‘That fething idiot is going to get us all killed!’ stormed Torge ‘quickly, before the surprise is gone!’
As one, Torge’s Tigers fired up and launched into the fray; closely followed by the rest of the squadron. Below them, in the canyon there was chaos as the Bohkin started gathering their wits under the initial, ill advised assault of the lead squad. The incoming fire was far too accurate and Torge cursed Sturmwulf for his arrogance. He could see that the idiot and his squad were blasting away at everything that moved without any form of plan or idea of tactics. He could also see that they were being whittled down and needed help.
‘WITH ME!’ shouted Torge ‘the boss is in trouble!’
The Tigers leapt after him as he raced towards the stricken lieutenant.
‘Form a perimeter and give covering fire!’ ordered Torge ‘Ana, take Alun and guard the dino-pens…I don’t want them coming out to play!’
‘Yes Boss!’ grinned Ana as she and Alun launched over to the pens, felling Bohkin with every well aimed shot.
‘What are you doing?’ cried Sturmwulf ‘you’re spoiling the hunt!’
‘The hunt, sir?’ Torge stared in disbelief at the lieutenant ‘I had no idea that you were as blind as you have become!’
As Sturmwulf stared madly at Torge, the Sgt spun on his heels and caught the lieutenant on the jaw with the base of his assault pistol. As he dropped to the floor Torge looked down at him…
‘It’s for your own good.’
From that moment on, it was a blur of fighting and swirling melee. Both sides fought well but the Grymn soon got the upper hand under Torge’s leadership and they eventually destroyed the Bohkin utterly. Even the livestock was killed and everything was burned. The Grymn then called in the casevac units and began bagging the fallen. It was not a pleasant task and Torge knew that there wouldn’t have been as many if the lieutenant hadn’t been such a fool.
Speaking of the lieutenant, he was in custody awaiting the arrival of captain Torsten.
It wasn’t long before Torsten arrived and Torge was called to answer for his crime; assaulting an officer was a serious offense, with a severe penalty. Seniority was almost revered in Grymn society and its armed forces were no exception.
‘I never thought I’d be asking this of you, Torge’ said Torsten ‘but what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘I saw no option but to relieve the lieutenant from duty due to his foolhardy and reckless disregard for the welfare of his troops’ said Torge and he went on to explain what happened during the pre assault planning and the assault itself.
Torsten listened carefully, questioning where he needed to and summed up what had happened.
‘I will go as far to say that you have behaved in a manner that goes against the prime directives of our martial code.’ Torsten stared grimly at Torge as he spoke. ‘Furthermore, you behaved in a dishonourable way that goes against what civilised society would deem acceptable’. The stare continued. ‘It is my judgement that you are guilty of assaulting an officer and taking over command of his squadron…also known as mutiny.’
Torsten called up a provost officer and said ‘relieve the Sgt of his rank’. Torge’s heart sank as the officer removed the stripes from his shoulder pad. With equal tone in his voice, Torsten addressed the gathered Grymn…
‘For the crime of assaulting a senior officer and committing mutiny, Torge will no longer hold the rank of Sgt.’ Torsten continued ‘for his noble act of duty to the Grymn army and, without thought for his personal honour, the successful commandeering and leadership of a squadron of ill prepared assault troops, he will now be referred to as Lieutenant Torge and will hold all the responsibilities and duties that the rank entails.’
Torsten continued ‘lieutenant Sturmwulf has been relieved of duty and is currently under medical care in the sanatorium. He had seen one too many battles and is unlikely to ever take to the field again.’
Torge stood on the edge of the cliff and viewed the scene below. The Bohkin camp was well prepared; the defenses were in place and were manned to the correct levels. He watched as the guards scanned the area for hostiles and patrolled the perimeter. He noted the positions of the Dino-hound pens and where all the support weapons were held. He noted areas of the best cover and where fire-arcs would be the best. He sniffed the air and tested the wind direction before turning around to see Ana, Alun, Antar and Thor standing a few yards away looking at him.
‘So, what’s the verdict, sir?’ said Thor as he looked down at his officer.
Torge looked up into the OGrymn’s face and smiled…
‘The camp is well defended and well drilled’ he said ‘they will be a good test of our mettle’.
‘Ana’ he said ‘gather the Tigers and prepare them for a briefing.’
‘Yes sir’ she said as she turned and walked towards the gaggle of white shouldered Tigers that were gathered a few yards away. After the Sgts had been briefed, Torge looked over at his squadron and smiled. There were over a hundred Grymn, all equipped in the standard tan plate armour. They all had orange shoulder-pads, helms and jump-packs decorated with black tiger stripes. They were all led by the white padded Sgts of their squads and they were all trained to react instantly to the orders they received. He walked forwards as the Sgts gathered their squads into parade ground lines, using hand signals rather than vocal commands. He stood to the front of the parade and speaking quietly, he addressed them all.
‘Your Sgt’s are well briefed, your weapons are loaded, and you are filled with the spirit of battle so you will not fail.’ Torge continued ‘together we will clean the filth from the gully…prepare your weapons, we launch in two.’
The sound of muffled weapons being prepared was barely audible as the squads fanned out along the cliff edge in preparation for the assault. Everyone knew their objective and everyone was eager to achieve it.
‘Tigers!’ said Torge to the barely restrained mass of troops ‘fire up and get your claws out!’
As one, the Tigers fired their jump-packs and as they launched into the air Thor shouted in his booming, OGrymn voice…
‘WHOSE TIGERS?’
The reply was a deafening roar that filled the valley with sound…
‘TORGE’S TIGERS!’
And death fell upon the Bohkin…
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Another trawl and more words from the creator...
I had a quick look through my archives and found another chunk of text from Kev White:
"Fire teams would have a kind of mutual support thing going in, both would have bonuses due to covering fire provided by their partner when fielded against foes that would actually give a damn if hot lead (or plasma) was coming their way. Members of a fire-team need to be within 2 inches of each other to get this benefit.
At least one member of a fire-team has to be within the command distance of their commander, typically 6 inches. The higher rank/more powerful the commader, the larger the command radius.
Members of a fireteam are activated as one. Unit morale depends on the overall number of members in the unit, a fire-team that loses one of it's number (and becomes a single Grymn) continues to fight so long as the unit isn't affected by morale. Orphaned members can pair-up to form new fireteams if neccessary, and single Grymn can pair up with the commander if needed, but they need to be within 2 inches of each other.
Snipers are attached to units like normal support weapons troopers, but they don't need to be within the usual command distance. One trooper in the unit is designated as "Spotter" (which one doesn't need to be told to the opposing player, it could be the commander) and the sniper gets bonuses to hit "spotted" targets so long as they are in LOS of both models.
I'll be making a trooper that is a "Spotter" who will be a specialist type able to give better bonuses to snipers and call in artillery.
Also, max unit size is 10 models, as stated before. The maximum number of heavies is 3 models based on: One commander and three fire-teams (usual two, plus one added).
Max unit size for P.A is 7. Each normal trooper is in effect it's own fire-team, so you can have one commader, up to three troopers and one support/heavy for each of them.
Support/heavy weapons can be attached to fire-teams. If so, they get the covering fire bonuses and not the troopers. If not attached to fire-teams, the support/heavies are under the direct control of the unit commander and have to stay within half of the usual command distance.
Bear in mind that these are just ideas, not set in stone. If they work in playtesting, then fine. If they don't, they'll change."
I think that is all I have from the old Forum of Doom site...and I reckon that's it from the archive from Kev...
"Fire teams would have a kind of mutual support thing going in, both would have bonuses due to covering fire provided by their partner when fielded against foes that would actually give a damn if hot lead (or plasma) was coming their way. Members of a fire-team need to be within 2 inches of each other to get this benefit.
At least one member of a fire-team has to be within the command distance of their commander, typically 6 inches. The higher rank/more powerful the commader, the larger the command radius.
Members of a fireteam are activated as one. Unit morale depends on the overall number of members in the unit, a fire-team that loses one of it's number (and becomes a single Grymn) continues to fight so long as the unit isn't affected by morale. Orphaned members can pair-up to form new fireteams if neccessary, and single Grymn can pair up with the commander if needed, but they need to be within 2 inches of each other.
Snipers are attached to units like normal support weapons troopers, but they don't need to be within the usual command distance. One trooper in the unit is designated as "Spotter" (which one doesn't need to be told to the opposing player, it could be the commander) and the sniper gets bonuses to hit "spotted" targets so long as they are in LOS of both models.
I'll be making a trooper that is a "Spotter" who will be a specialist type able to give better bonuses to snipers and call in artillery.
Also, max unit size is 10 models, as stated before. The maximum number of heavies is 3 models based on: One commander and three fire-teams (usual two, plus one added).
Max unit size for P.A is 7. Each normal trooper is in effect it's own fire-team, so you can have one commader, up to three troopers and one support/heavy for each of them.
Support/heavy weapons can be attached to fire-teams. If so, they get the covering fire bonuses and not the troopers. If not attached to fire-teams, the support/heavies are under the direct control of the unit commander and have to stay within half of the usual command distance.
Bear in mind that these are just ideas, not set in stone. If they work in playtesting, then fine. If they don't, they'll change."
I think that is all I have from the old Forum of Doom site...and I reckon that's it from the archive from Kev...
From little acorns...
...great oak trees grow.
And so it was with my Grymn collecting.
I have collected Games Workshop products since I was about thirteen years old; back in the good old days when White Dwarf magazine had adverts for other manufacturer's miniatures and comic strips like Thrud within it's pages.
Over time I spent a small fortune on Space marines, Imperial Guard, Tyranids, Eldar...even Orks but over time the novelty started wearing off. I guess it started when I had collected a Space marine company and the Codex system started...that change in rules meant that half my soldiers would require re-equipping. Over time, more and more rule changes led to more and more disappointment until I began to despair.
...then, while looking on-line, I discovered something awesome...
And so it was with my Grymn collecting.
I have collected Games Workshop products since I was about thirteen years old; back in the good old days when White Dwarf magazine had adverts for other manufacturer's miniatures and comic strips like Thrud within it's pages.
Over time I spent a small fortune on Space marines, Imperial Guard, Tyranids, Eldar...even Orks but over time the novelty started wearing off. I guess it started when I had collected a Space marine company and the Codex system started...that change in rules meant that half my soldiers would require re-equipping. Over time, more and more rule changes led to more and more disappointment until I began to despair.
...then, while looking on-line, I discovered something awesome...
A Grymn named Aylton. He was everything that I wanted from a sci-fi race. I had always waited for tough looking space-Halflings in power armour but none ever turned up. I had lost hope but then I saw the Grymn and was hooked.
He was better than a Halfling, he was a Dwarf...with knees...who was wearing proper sci-fi kit and carrying a BIG gun.
That is where it started...
He was better than a Halfling, he was a Dwarf...with knees...who was wearing proper sci-fi kit and carrying a BIG gun.
That is where it started...
From the mouth of the creator...
This is taken from a post on the Forum of Doom before the site crashed and had to be rebuilt. It was written by Kev White.
Grymn: Army Composition.
Right, I've been meaning to do it for ages, so here goes.
The basic Grymn unit is four troopers plus a unit commander. The unit can be split into two man fire teams, but both need to be near the commander (I don't know if this means LOS, a set distance or whatever. Bear with me).
Unit size may be increased by adding extra troopers in pairs or single heavy/special weapons troopers. One heavy weapon trooper may be added for every "fire team".
Maximum unit size is 10. Commander and four troopers plus extras.
Light infantry: Have the Grymn SMG as basic weapon. They may have grenades as an option upgrade and it assumed that they all have a knife for getting friendly with the enemy. Typical armour is a flak jacket, knee, shoulder and elbow pads and a helmet. Heavy/Support weapons options are Minigun, Grenade Launcher, Rocket Launcher and Flame Thrower.
Heavy infantry: Basically the same as light infantry, but they tend to be of slightly better moral (combat vets maybe?) and use the Plasma Carbine (Pulse rifle) instead of the SMG. The "Heavy" designation comes from their ability to take on heavier targets with their improved firepower. Heavy/Support weapons options are the Rocket Launcher and Heavy Pulse Rifle.
Close Combat (Assault): Equipped with dual machine pistols or Shotguns. The pistols can have either barrel mounted grenade launchers underneath, or laser targeters. Shotguns have either Grenade launchers or a double shot facility. All members of a unit will have to have the same weaponry and optional secondary weapon. Most grenades used will typically be smoke rounds to cover any advance across open ground. Heavy/Support Weapons options are Flame Thrower, Grenade Launcher and Multi-Barrelled Assault Shotgun.
Powered armour: Come in units of two troopers plus commander. Standard weaponry is a Dual SMG (two linked SMGs in the same casing) and possibly a Power axe for close quarter actions.
O-Grymn: May be attached to standard units in the same way as for Heavy/Support weapons. They are considered to be standard Grymn troopers, just bigger. They are usually armed with the Battle suit minigun or a Rail gun. Other options include Rocket/Grenade/Missile Launchers and larger versions of shotguns and SMGs.
Battle suits: Fielded in stand alone units, each Battle suit operator is ranked at least "Captain" in the Grymn armed forces. Therefore they can assume command of leaderless units at a pinch. Standard armament is a minigun and rocket launcher combination.
Fire-teams and cooperation seem to be the buzz-words for a Grymn army.
Grymn: Army Composition.
Right, I've been meaning to do it for ages, so here goes.
The basic Grymn unit is four troopers plus a unit commander. The unit can be split into two man fire teams, but both need to be near the commander (I don't know if this means LOS, a set distance or whatever. Bear with me).
Unit size may be increased by adding extra troopers in pairs or single heavy/special weapons troopers. One heavy weapon trooper may be added for every "fire team".
Maximum unit size is 10. Commander and four troopers plus extras.
Light infantry: Have the Grymn SMG as basic weapon. They may have grenades as an option upgrade and it assumed that they all have a knife for getting friendly with the enemy. Typical armour is a flak jacket, knee, shoulder and elbow pads and a helmet. Heavy/Support weapons options are Minigun, Grenade Launcher, Rocket Launcher and Flame Thrower.
Heavy infantry: Basically the same as light infantry, but they tend to be of slightly better moral (combat vets maybe?) and use the Plasma Carbine (Pulse rifle) instead of the SMG. The "Heavy" designation comes from their ability to take on heavier targets with their improved firepower. Heavy/Support weapons options are the Rocket Launcher and Heavy Pulse Rifle.
Close Combat (Assault): Equipped with dual machine pistols or Shotguns. The pistols can have either barrel mounted grenade launchers underneath, or laser targeters. Shotguns have either Grenade launchers or a double shot facility. All members of a unit will have to have the same weaponry and optional secondary weapon. Most grenades used will typically be smoke rounds to cover any advance across open ground. Heavy/Support Weapons options are Flame Thrower, Grenade Launcher and Multi-Barrelled Assault Shotgun.
Powered armour: Come in units of two troopers plus commander. Standard weaponry is a Dual SMG (two linked SMGs in the same casing) and possibly a Power axe for close quarter actions.
O-Grymn: May be attached to standard units in the same way as for Heavy/Support weapons. They are considered to be standard Grymn troopers, just bigger. They are usually armed with the Battle suit minigun or a Rail gun. Other options include Rocket/Grenade/Missile Launchers and larger versions of shotguns and SMGs.
Battle suits: Fielded in stand alone units, each Battle suit operator is ranked at least "Captain" in the Grymn armed forces. Therefore they can assume command of leaderless units at a pinch. Standard armament is a minigun and rocket launcher combination.
Fire-teams and cooperation seem to be the buzz-words for a Grymn army.
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Stefan.
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.
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.
Sunday, 14 February 2010
Lt. Juhler
Lt. Juhler swaggered, well above average size for a Grymn. The standard jump pack wasn't even capable of compensating for his weight; he dropped too fast on assaults. His companions said, "By Sleiti engineers, he didn't need a modified pack. His legs were big enough to take the impact."
He came from Brontyr, a small, undeveloped, but fully self-sufficient settlement on a fringe world colony - a backwater's backwater. He hunted food for his family from the time he could lift a toy rifle and claimed he never missed a shot.
Having already served in two campaigns, Torsten described him "as experienced and skilled as a soldier can get and still be alive".
His comrades referred to him as "the Philosopher" out of respect and admiration for his deep convictions on the expansive nature of our actions and their consequences.
After securing the landing zone, Torsten ordered Juhler to ready his men for the assault. He grabbed his SMG and a half-dozen grenades and strode out with one pistol on his hip and another stuck into his boot top. He was going to do a one man recon job to form a plan of attack.
Juhler was going out into the unknown. He had spent a long time preparing for this moment, but he was not trained for it. In one of the greatest military intelligence failures of Grymn history, neither G2 at Army1 HQ, nor Strat-Com had ever warned the fighters of the dominant physical feature of the region where they'd be fighting. It was flat land laced with embankments bordering massive mineral recovery "pans". On top these little ridges, machinery and solar arrays jutted up and overhung the roads running between pans.
How could the various intel groups have missed such an obvious feature, especially as orbital recon clearly revealed these pans with their rims and bordering service roads? Because the data processors, looking straight down at them, missed the sunken nature of the roads completely. "We had neither been informed of them, nor trained to overcome them," was the comment of one platoon leader. The soldiers had to learn by doing, as Juhler was doing.
He and his fellow assault jumpers, like the famous assault groups from the 8th army had been well drilled in amphibious assault. They had done that very thing the day before, dropping in on ill-prepared enemy positions with courage and flair. But at dawn, they were fighting in terrain unexpected and unfamiliar to them, the pans.
The Bohkin, on the other hand, had been going through specialised training for fighting in this type of terrain. They pre-sighted heavy weapons on the access points into the pan system and individual pans. Behind the machinery or trees, they dug foxholes and tunnel openings for heavy automatic weapons to cover the open space of the pan itself.
The Grymn trained hard. "We threw hand grenades and got to know the overall pan layout and structures. The lines of risers, pits, and machines played tricks on our eyes. We trained to fight as individuals and small teams. We knew when the attack came we'd probably be cut of from one another. We let them come forward and cross into a pan, then blow them apart. That was our tactic: wait until they come in and then shoot," recalled Niehl of the Flaming 353d.
Juhler moved up the sunken roads, crossed into a pump field, squeezed through close-set condensers, and crawled through a ditch. Along the way he noted concentrations and positions of Bohkin he passed. Someone without a hunter's sense of direction would have got lost. He reached a point near the central throughway for the heavy loaders, this was the axis of the Bohkin deployment. Juhler, moving like the hunter he was, got to a place where he could hear the guttural noises of Bohkin on the other side of a pan rim. They sounded like leaders talking about map coordinates. Juhler vaulted over the rim with his gun at ready. "Still!" he barked at the 7 commanders gathered round a comm unit.
Six instinctively raised their hands, but one tried to pull a pistol from its holster. Juhler shot him instantly, between the eyes. Two soldiers in a trench 100 metres away to Juhler's rear fired automatic pistols at him. Two bullets ripped through his jacket and one took a bit of his ear.
Juhler dropped to one knee and began shooting the other six commanders as they attempted to escape. When he had used up his clip, he dropped into a ditch, put another clip in, and dropped the Bohkin with the pistols with one shot each.
Juhler made his way back to the company area to report on what he had seen. At the command post he came in with blood down his jacket, a big chunk of his ear gone, holes in his clothing. "Who's got more grenades?" he demanded.
Then he started leading. He put a mortar crew on the flank and directed fire into the sunken roads where the Bohkin were most concentrated. Next he sent A company into an attack down one of the lanes. The Bohkin broke and ran. By midmorning, the pan facilities round the LZ were secure.
The next day Torsten, Juhler and Sgt. Jinso went to the spot to examine the Bohkin corpses. Unforgettably, the bodies sparkled with brilliant crystals which reflected the morning light. Papers identified them as the commander for the main force in the region and his staff . Maps and other documents showed they had come to the pans to plan the counterattack against the Grymn landing.However, having lost the commander, the Bohkin retreat barely held together in the face of Grymn pressure in the subsequent days.
Torsten told me that when he commented on the blood on Juhler's jacket, he said, "They've been getting close to you, Juhler". To which Juhler, smiling thinly, responded, "but not as close as I've been getting to them, Sir".
At the scene of the action, Torsten noted that everyone of the dead Bohkin, including the ambushers in the trench, died of a single shot in the head. Later in the day, Sgt. Jinso commented to Torsten, "Sir, aren't you glad Juhler's on our side?"
The next day Jinso wasn't so sure. He and Juhler were crouched behind the rim of another pan, waiting for the end of a barrage falling on enemy in the next pan. Juhler wanted the barrage to stop so he could go in and clean up, but Jinso hoped that the barrage would continue until there would be no cleaning.
A story by Sagunt from the Forum of Doom. Thank you for permission to post this here.
He came from Brontyr, a small, undeveloped, but fully self-sufficient settlement on a fringe world colony - a backwater's backwater. He hunted food for his family from the time he could lift a toy rifle and claimed he never missed a shot.
Having already served in two campaigns, Torsten described him "as experienced and skilled as a soldier can get and still be alive".
His comrades referred to him as "the Philosopher" out of respect and admiration for his deep convictions on the expansive nature of our actions and their consequences.
After securing the landing zone, Torsten ordered Juhler to ready his men for the assault. He grabbed his SMG and a half-dozen grenades and strode out with one pistol on his hip and another stuck into his boot top. He was going to do a one man recon job to form a plan of attack.
Juhler was going out into the unknown. He had spent a long time preparing for this moment, but he was not trained for it. In one of the greatest military intelligence failures of Grymn history, neither G2 at Army1 HQ, nor Strat-Com had ever warned the fighters of the dominant physical feature of the region where they'd be fighting. It was flat land laced with embankments bordering massive mineral recovery "pans". On top these little ridges, machinery and solar arrays jutted up and overhung the roads running between pans.
How could the various intel groups have missed such an obvious feature, especially as orbital recon clearly revealed these pans with their rims and bordering service roads? Because the data processors, looking straight down at them, missed the sunken nature of the roads completely. "We had neither been informed of them, nor trained to overcome them," was the comment of one platoon leader. The soldiers had to learn by doing, as Juhler was doing.
He and his fellow assault jumpers, like the famous assault groups from the 8th army had been well drilled in amphibious assault. They had done that very thing the day before, dropping in on ill-prepared enemy positions with courage and flair. But at dawn, they were fighting in terrain unexpected and unfamiliar to them, the pans.
The Bohkin, on the other hand, had been going through specialised training for fighting in this type of terrain. They pre-sighted heavy weapons on the access points into the pan system and individual pans. Behind the machinery or trees, they dug foxholes and tunnel openings for heavy automatic weapons to cover the open space of the pan itself.
The Grymn trained hard. "We threw hand grenades and got to know the overall pan layout and structures. The lines of risers, pits, and machines played tricks on our eyes. We trained to fight as individuals and small teams. We knew when the attack came we'd probably be cut of from one another. We let them come forward and cross into a pan, then blow them apart. That was our tactic: wait until they come in and then shoot," recalled Niehl of the Flaming 353d.
Juhler moved up the sunken roads, crossed into a pump field, squeezed through close-set condensers, and crawled through a ditch. Along the way he noted concentrations and positions of Bohkin he passed. Someone without a hunter's sense of direction would have got lost. He reached a point near the central throughway for the heavy loaders, this was the axis of the Bohkin deployment. Juhler, moving like the hunter he was, got to a place where he could hear the guttural noises of Bohkin on the other side of a pan rim. They sounded like leaders talking about map coordinates. Juhler vaulted over the rim with his gun at ready. "Still!" he barked at the 7 commanders gathered round a comm unit.
Six instinctively raised their hands, but one tried to pull a pistol from its holster. Juhler shot him instantly, between the eyes. Two soldiers in a trench 100 metres away to Juhler's rear fired automatic pistols at him. Two bullets ripped through his jacket and one took a bit of his ear.
Juhler dropped to one knee and began shooting the other six commanders as they attempted to escape. When he had used up his clip, he dropped into a ditch, put another clip in, and dropped the Bohkin with the pistols with one shot each.
Juhler made his way back to the company area to report on what he had seen. At the command post he came in with blood down his jacket, a big chunk of his ear gone, holes in his clothing. "Who's got more grenades?" he demanded.
Then he started leading. He put a mortar crew on the flank and directed fire into the sunken roads where the Bohkin were most concentrated. Next he sent A company into an attack down one of the lanes. The Bohkin broke and ran. By midmorning, the pan facilities round the LZ were secure.
The next day Torsten, Juhler and Sgt. Jinso went to the spot to examine the Bohkin corpses. Unforgettably, the bodies sparkled with brilliant crystals which reflected the morning light. Papers identified them as the commander for the main force in the region and his staff . Maps and other documents showed they had come to the pans to plan the counterattack against the Grymn landing.However, having lost the commander, the Bohkin retreat barely held together in the face of Grymn pressure in the subsequent days.
Torsten told me that when he commented on the blood on Juhler's jacket, he said, "They've been getting close to you, Juhler". To which Juhler, smiling thinly, responded, "but not as close as I've been getting to them, Sir".
At the scene of the action, Torsten noted that everyone of the dead Bohkin, including the ambushers in the trench, died of a single shot in the head. Later in the day, Sgt. Jinso commented to Torsten, "Sir, aren't you glad Juhler's on our side?"
The next day Jinso wasn't so sure. He and Juhler were crouched behind the rim of another pan, waiting for the end of a barrage falling on enemy in the next pan. Juhler wanted the barrage to stop so he could go in and clean up, but Jinso hoped that the barrage would continue until there would be no cleaning.
A story by Sagunt from the Forum of Doom. Thank you for permission to post this here.
Grymn armies.
Just looking at the various bits of information that Kev White has provided over the years, you will see that there are many options to choose from when thinking about how to create a Grymn army.
In the beginning there was Experiment #14. He took 1000 embryos from the Sleiti when he escaped. Some of those would have perished but many would have survived. Not all of them would be combatants but from a survival point of view, many would have to be. Obviously, it would take time for the Grymn to reach maturity so Experiment #14 would have to lay low while his charges were allowed to grow, mature and learn how to survive and defend themselves. Later in Grymn history, there would be bigger armies and maybe even settlers, traders, mercenaries and even (perish the thought) invading armies. There could also be different factions...maybe even CHAOS Grymn!?
So we have opportunities to field everything from small gangs of Grymn all the way up to a huge army. We also have the option of good and evil forces!
How about a Grymn gang in Necromunda? A small force of mercenaries in No Limits or Void 1.1? An army of Grymn in Warhammer 40k or even a huge horde in Apocalypse?
There are so many choices for so many gaming systems! It just takes a small amount of thought to make the Grymn fit in.
In Warhammer 40k, the Grymn could simply use the rules for the Imperial Guard. Alternatively, the Space Marines have scouts and they could be used to represent Grymn instead. In Void1.1, Urban War and Metropolis, the Grymn could act as marines from either VASA, Viridian or even Syntha forces.
As an alternative to using 'counts as' armies, you could use any of the available 'fan-lists' that are out there for the various systems. No-Limits has a list for Grymn and if you go to Celtos Legion and look through their downloads, you will find Grymn lists for Void 1.1 and Urban War.
Finally, there is always the option of making your own army lists and creating special rules that you think will suit the Grymn. I'm sure that there are many people out there who use Grymn in various rule systems who have come up with some ingenious special rules and army lists just so that they can use the Grymn in their chosen game system.
In time, I am planning to link to various lists and game systems but until I have permission, I am just batting around ideas.
If anyone out there has a link that they want to share to their own rules for using Grymn in their chosen system, please feel free to PM me (Inso) on The Forum of Doom - the link is on the right - and I'll put it up here for everyone to share.
In the beginning there was Experiment #14. He took 1000 embryos from the Sleiti when he escaped. Some of those would have perished but many would have survived. Not all of them would be combatants but from a survival point of view, many would have to be. Obviously, it would take time for the Grymn to reach maturity so Experiment #14 would have to lay low while his charges were allowed to grow, mature and learn how to survive and defend themselves. Later in Grymn history, there would be bigger armies and maybe even settlers, traders, mercenaries and even (perish the thought) invading armies. There could also be different factions...maybe even CHAOS Grymn!?
So we have opportunities to field everything from small gangs of Grymn all the way up to a huge army. We also have the option of good and evil forces!
How about a Grymn gang in Necromunda? A small force of mercenaries in No Limits or Void 1.1? An army of Grymn in Warhammer 40k or even a huge horde in Apocalypse?
There are so many choices for so many gaming systems! It just takes a small amount of thought to make the Grymn fit in.
In Warhammer 40k, the Grymn could simply use the rules for the Imperial Guard. Alternatively, the Space Marines have scouts and they could be used to represent Grymn instead. In Void1.1, Urban War and Metropolis, the Grymn could act as marines from either VASA, Viridian or even Syntha forces.
As an alternative to using 'counts as' armies, you could use any of the available 'fan-lists' that are out there for the various systems. No-Limits has a list for Grymn and if you go to Celtos Legion and look through their downloads, you will find Grymn lists for Void 1.1 and Urban War.
Finally, there is always the option of making your own army lists and creating special rules that you think will suit the Grymn. I'm sure that there are many people out there who use Grymn in various rule systems who have come up with some ingenious special rules and army lists just so that they can use the Grymn in their chosen game system.
In time, I am planning to link to various lists and game systems but until I have permission, I am just batting around ideas.
If anyone out there has a link that they want to share to their own rules for using Grymn in their chosen system, please feel free to PM me (Inso) on The Forum of Doom - the link is on the right - and I'll put it up here for everyone to share.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
More background.
As I have already mentioned, the Grymn were created by the Sleiti; an alien race that uses bio-technology for many things that other races would use standard, mechanical and electronic technology for. Here is a Sleiti in battle gear:
When the Grymn escaped, the Sleiti were furious because not only had years of worked disappeared but they destroyed the lab and its data-banks before they left. That meant that the Sleiti were forced to start from scratch with their next race of slaves. When they did eventually build a new set of slaves, they called them Bohkin. The Bohkin were made for one reason...to hunt down and capture the Grymn. If they couldn't be captured, they would have to be destroyed. The new race was happy to do this because they were genetically modified to be completely subservient to the Sleiti. Here is a Bohkin leader ready to embark on his next hunting mission:
There are other aliens out there but some are less distinct than others. The Druusch are a race that has been infected by a virus that effectively turns them into zombies. They are made up from all manner of different races but have one common trait...they are infected. There is however, one race that the Druusch infection can't attack and that is the Grymn; due to their extraordinary immune system. Here is a Druusch drone:
Adapted by Inso from original work by Kev White.
When the Grymn escaped, the Sleiti were furious because not only had years of worked disappeared but they destroyed the lab and its data-banks before they left. That meant that the Sleiti were forced to start from scratch with their next race of slaves. When they did eventually build a new set of slaves, they called them Bohkin. The Bohkin were made for one reason...to hunt down and capture the Grymn. If they couldn't be captured, they would have to be destroyed. The new race was happy to do this because they were genetically modified to be completely subservient to the Sleiti. Here is a Bohkin leader ready to embark on his next hunting mission:
There are other aliens out there but some are less distinct than others. The Druusch are a race that has been infected by a virus that effectively turns them into zombies. They are made up from all manner of different races but have one common trait...they are infected. There is however, one race that the Druusch infection can't attack and that is the Grymn; due to their extraordinary immune system. Here is a Druusch drone:
Adapted by Inso from original work by Kev White.
Friday, 12 February 2010
The Birth of the Grymn.
“On an alien research base hovering in orbit above the planet below, the Sleiti scientists were working tirelessly to create a workforce capable of mining the many dangerous floating through the depths of space. In test-tubes and gestation chambers, life was being created using genetic manipulation and bio-engineering. After years of careful experimentation a viable subject was created and he was known as ‘Experiment #14’.
#14 was a male who grew quickly using artificial growth acceleration. He was given all sorts of simple tasks that he was able to accomplish with ease, even though he didn’t show too much higher intellect. As a labourer he was excellent; being extremely strong with limitless stamina and a determination to finish all the tasks he was given to the best of his ability. #14 was eventually given a regular job, working with the scientists because he was deemed to be no threat due to his placid nature.
As he carried boxes and loaded vats, #14 watched the scientists. While concealing his obvious intelligence from his creators, he soon learned that they were creating a race based on similar genetic coding to him and that they were making an entirely male race to prevent it breeding if any should escape. The scientists were using a genetic marker to show the sex of each embryo and those that showed up as female were destroyed. #14 waited for his chance and when the lab was quiet, managed to swap the genetic marker for an alternative that hid the sex of the embryo on a genetic level...now both male and females would be allowed to gestate without the knowledge of the scientists.
The die was cast.
When 1000 embryos were well developed but not to a level where the sex could be deduced by the naked eye, #14 struck. He grabbed a fire-axe and went to work on the poorly prepared scientists. In a night of carnage he slew all of his creators.
A few days later the research station was boarded by security forces. #14 and the thousand embryos were gone.”
“...and that is how The Father brought us to this planet, along with the equipment to sustain and nurture our growth. Without The Father, we would not exist.” The age worn Grymn looked at the adolescent Grymnlings sat around him and could clearly see the admiration and awe in their eyes.
“Where is The Father now, sir?” asked one of the braver amongst the Grymnlings.
“Wandering...just wandering...he’ll return one day to visit his children; you can be sure of that” he replied with a wry smile and watched as the Grymnlings’ eyes all widened with surprise “now off you go...you have chores to do!”.
With that the small room emptied and the Old Grymn sat in silence, drawing on his tobacco filled pipe contentedly. He knew the peace wouldn’t last so he was determined to make the most of it...
Adapted by Inso from original work by Kev White.
#14 was a male who grew quickly using artificial growth acceleration. He was given all sorts of simple tasks that he was able to accomplish with ease, even though he didn’t show too much higher intellect. As a labourer he was excellent; being extremely strong with limitless stamina and a determination to finish all the tasks he was given to the best of his ability. #14 was eventually given a regular job, working with the scientists because he was deemed to be no threat due to his placid nature.
As he carried boxes and loaded vats, #14 watched the scientists. While concealing his obvious intelligence from his creators, he soon learned that they were creating a race based on similar genetic coding to him and that they were making an entirely male race to prevent it breeding if any should escape. The scientists were using a genetic marker to show the sex of each embryo and those that showed up as female were destroyed. #14 waited for his chance and when the lab was quiet, managed to swap the genetic marker for an alternative that hid the sex of the embryo on a genetic level...now both male and females would be allowed to gestate without the knowledge of the scientists.
The die was cast.
When 1000 embryos were well developed but not to a level where the sex could be deduced by the naked eye, #14 struck. He grabbed a fire-axe and went to work on the poorly prepared scientists. In a night of carnage he slew all of his creators.
A few days later the research station was boarded by security forces. #14 and the thousand embryos were gone.”
“...and that is how The Father brought us to this planet, along with the equipment to sustain and nurture our growth. Without The Father, we would not exist.” The age worn Grymn looked at the adolescent Grymnlings sat around him and could clearly see the admiration and awe in their eyes.
“Where is The Father now, sir?” asked one of the braver amongst the Grymnlings.
“Wandering...just wandering...he’ll return one day to visit his children; you can be sure of that” he replied with a wry smile and watched as the Grymnlings’ eyes all widened with surprise “now off you go...you have chores to do!”.
With that the small room emptied and the Old Grymn sat in silence, drawing on his tobacco filled pipe contentedly. He knew the peace wouldn’t last so he was determined to make the most of it...
Adapted by Inso from original work by Kev White.
What are Grymn?
Grymn are Sci-Fi Dwarfs designed and sculpted by Kev White over at:
Hasslefree Miniatures
What makes them special is the fact they are not just fantasy Dwarfs in space but they are a proper, sci-fi army that look almost plausible for future warriors. They are well sculpted, nice to paint and there is enough variety to make a decent sized force with a fairly wide range of weapons.
Another thing that is good about the Grymn is that they are not attached to any specific rule-set or war-game so you are free to come up with all sorts of ideas for how to use them without feeling like you should be sticking to the rules.
The miniatures are also good for converting and adding to other armies as allies.
This Blog will have only one focus and that will be everything Grymn. I plan on posting stories, background, conversions, rule ideas, lots of pics and links to some of the cool Grymn stuff that is out there on the WWW.
Well...there you have it. Sit back and enjoy the ride because once it gets going, it won't stop and before you know it, you'll have a Grymn horde of your own; languishing in various states of paint.
You have been warned.
Hasslefree Miniatures
What makes them special is the fact they are not just fantasy Dwarfs in space but they are a proper, sci-fi army that look almost plausible for future warriors. They are well sculpted, nice to paint and there is enough variety to make a decent sized force with a fairly wide range of weapons.
Another thing that is good about the Grymn is that they are not attached to any specific rule-set or war-game so you are free to come up with all sorts of ideas for how to use them without feeling like you should be sticking to the rules.
The miniatures are also good for converting and adding to other armies as allies.
This Blog will have only one focus and that will be everything Grymn. I plan on posting stories, background, conversions, rule ideas, lots of pics and links to some of the cool Grymn stuff that is out there on the WWW.
Well...there you have it. Sit back and enjoy the ride because once it gets going, it won't stop and before you know it, you'll have a Grymn horde of your own; languishing in various states of paint.
You have been warned.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Once upon a time...
In the vastness of space, there is a race that has endured great hardship but survives through guile, determination and a great deal of luck. That race is the Grymn. This Blog is where many make their home and many will soon settle down as welcomed guests.
Be warned...you should never take them lightly...
Be warned...you should never take them lightly...
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