Name: Nergal
Function: Metropolis
Government: Mardukite Theocracy
Planet Type: Terrestrial
Terrain: Jungles
Gravity: Standard
Atmosphere:Type I Breatheable
Length of Day:23 hours
Length of Year:381 local days
Hydrosphere: Moderate
Temperature: Warm
Population: 4 billion
Starport: Ocean Mooring
Tech Level: 4
Nergal had been taken months ago by the Unified Brotherhood. The ARKANGELOS elite guard had lead the assault on the ziggurat and slew the noble family. Three weeks ago, a captured cargo ship from Gryphon had been towed into orbit around the world the Brotherhood had renamed it Anatoli in the name of their single all-consuming god.
Aboard that ship, unbeknownst to the UB raiders, it was the bait for a trojan horse gambit. Hidden in the cargoholds amidst material and war supplies were several members of the Jomsvikings, a Gareshi mercenary unit. Clad in their
Huginn-class recon suits and in cybernetically induced comas, they waited until they were shipped down to the surface of Nergal/Anatoli for receiving and study and then...
Awoke, slipped away and triggered the fail-safe bomb hidden within the cargo. To the receiving crew, this appeared to merely be an act of sabotage on behalf of locate resistance fighters.
The four members of the Jomsvikings split up and disappeared into the jungles, hidden within their camouflaged recon battlesuits they begin to map the ground defenses and prepare for the right time to attack. In the meanwhile, they took turns attacking isolated patrols and convoys to secretly assist the resistance fighters on the ground and keep the enemy buttoned up and concerned. Occasionally, the LEGION would send a few squads into the jungles and swamps to find the cause of these attacks and they'd either return empty handed... or not at all.
Fenrik Ragnar Iverson waited and watched patiently, listening to unencrypted transmissions, noting movements. Raiding when he could. Spreading fear and sowing chaos amongst the perimeter. Testing every line and checkpoint. Forcing the enemy to waste resources chasing ghosts in the steaming Negal jungles.
Today though, was special.
Today, Fenrik Ragnar Iverson went hunting.
Ahead, slightly less than a kilometer out, a fire-team of LEGION infantry is setting up an ambush. Almost certainly to catch whoever has been preying on the convoys they send through this region for the last couple weeks. They unload a heavy machine gun from their boxy-looking personnel carrier and move it towards a pit surrounded with ballistic bags. Even in the hot jungle, they stand out like glowing beacons on the thermal scan.
You can see them, but they can't see you.
He did not flee at Uppsala, but slaughtered as long as he had a weapon.
An old passage comes to mind as you watch them fumble with their weapon.
You know another fire-team is around here somewhere too, probably providing inadequate security for the first. These men were amateurs. Some of them were from the UB but some were conscripted from the local population.
These particular soldiers, LEGION, as they were known, appeared to be nothing more than conscripts. Protected with outdated armor and armed with primitive slugthrowers, they weren't exactly an elite force. What they lacked in quality, they certainly made up in quantity.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:59, Mon 27 July 2015.