RP: 188604 [AdVenture Capital] 5: March on Tolmasch

[Dumont]

>Tolmasch Desert, south of Old Osman City - After the Parties Finish.

There was a simple old Osman phrase on this planet: Deserts are awful.

They came in all varieties, textures, shapes, sizes and colors. From the rainbow dunes of the Khraal wastelands, to the salt flats of Srethe, and burning lands of Krause. Tolmasch in particular was a dusty plains, with a whole lot of rocks, and the odd rockery feature. The road south of Osman, past the ruined mounts Gleipnir had one particular problem.

It was long, it was straight, it was dry, it was hot. But the one particular problem was that it stretched to the horizon and beyond. This was the road the Grant Rebellion had marched to advance on the imperial capitol, and this was the road which led to a land which had fallen in to anarchy despite having an entire army nominally loyal to the office of the President still stationed here. No real patrols, no investigations. After Uso turned up this place was just mysteriously collapsed one day with no real explanation.

And this was the situation the Reavers sought to get the upper hand in.

Faced with the long road to nowhere, prepared with his men and what vehicles they had obtained so far to take the road trip of death into the unknown: Corgan got what little intel was available to him from the Brigadier office mission control center.

Alright, so.

Gist of it is that Tolmasch is a fuckshow. Not a good one. It's basically a small country. Dozens of little towns out in the dust and rocks all scraping a living from prospecting and trade, that sort of thing. But it's mainly been useful because it was along the trade routes to Lahiri where the Osmans made stuff. So there's one big main road that goes southeast to get there, but everything else is tiny trails you'll need a local guide for.

There WAS a garrison out there, manned by Grant's men, but it either scattered or got taken out by the Royalists after we blew the shit out of them at the battle of Osman City. There hasn't been any word from Fort Payne, which is marked out on your map to the south along the main road, then taking a turn west out into the foothills. Fort Payne is the first of four of these forts, there's also one big one straddling the river between the regional capitol(s).

Regional capitol is two small cities, on each side of the River Halif. They were independant of each other for some fucking stupid reason to do with inheritance of blood brothers. If you want to bring stability to the region it's a good start, but you'll need to effectively be able to reach any of the towns to say you can really control the place. Twotown is basically a good place to run if you have strength, but it's also a good place to get bogged down if you don't have the manpower.

As for your missing guy, Laurence Mnochis is the last son of their noble family. Most of his relatives got offed by Grant in the opening of the war, and he was presumed dead but they never found the body. Same time there's an active Royalist rebellion going on there so... Who knows, he might be involved.

Long story short: Enjoy your shitshow, Corgan.

Come back safe, okay?
-A23

As the information on locations chirped up on to Corgan's mindware map, overlaying itself with satellite telemetry from various ships now in orbit... Things were beginning for the Reavers. But if Corgan wanted any help holding the place, now would be the time to call people.

 

[ArsenicJohn]

Outside Mt Gleipnirs Base

The small army of vehicles was parked outside the Mount Gleipnirs base. So far it consisted of his custom vehicle, two tanks, five APCs, five support vehicles, five mobile artillery, and ten supply vehicles painted with desert camo. The custom vehicle was just a modified type 30 cargo truck with an HMG-33 mounted to each side of the truck bed and two square cargo containers. It was pulling two shelter modules connected by couplers similar to those used on trains.

On the front of the truck, Corgan had mounted seven wicked looking spikes in an improvised plow. The first shelter module had a forward facing HMG and a rear-facing HMG mounted on the top along with a waist-high emplacement made of four massive titanium plates. The second module was a bit longer and was armed with two rear-facing mounted HMGs and six barrels lashed to the top. This one had retained the bed of the truck it was salvaged from with metal plates attached to the back as cover.

There was a flurry of activity as Corgan's soldiers rushed around, preparing the supply trucks for the journey. They loaded the trucks with extra fuel, crates of ammunition, portable shelters and supplies for a month. Lieutenant O'Brien supervised from the back of the truck. Her long blonde hair was up in a braided ponytail, purple eyes watching dutifully. She wore a desert camo BDU and tan combat boots. Her face was slender and oval-shaped with high cheekbones. It was obvious from her athletic figure that this woman took care of her body.

Corgan was standing next to the doorway watching everyone scurry about. He knew that he had enough firepower to pull this off. Could they hold the place without assistance, though? He stared at the map, wondering who would be most helpful in this campaign. Alex or Jason's mechs could be useful for aerial reconnaissance. Jason would be better, Alex might be more of a hindrance with his naive morality. Arccos is busy, who knows where Ace went. Guess I'll see what Jason's doing. He sent Jason a text mentally.

Hey, man. About to go see what's up in Tolmasch. We could use mech support. You busy?

@Perilous Siege

 

[Perilous Siege]

The response to Corgan's request was swift, playing out as a voice recording rather than a text. His voice was warm and friendly, but it wasn't hard to detect the edge of excitement he had for the prospect.

"Kind of, but nothing so important that I can't drop it to lend a hand. Been interested in the region for a while anyway, but had my hands full refitting factories. I'll rendezvous with you in a bit. Your signal tells me you're in the capital, right?"

Most of Jason's business on the jumble of numbers led him far afield from the fledgling empire's capital of Ragnaheim, Osman City, or whatever name a speaker cared to use for it on any given day. Even when it did usually found himself nestled in its starport, away from the beauty of the mountain range that had likely protected the world's grandest city from its nigh apocalyptic storms since it was first colonized. But though he had never visited the landmark, it was difficult not to marvel from a distance at the wonder. The tallest of the mountains had always held a special place in his hearts, it's twin peaks piercing through the sky as an ever present reminder to the natives of the cost of the alien's conquest of their planet.

He found it fairly fitting that the latest expedition to suborn one of the few provinces that still hadn't bowed to the spacemen rule assembled beneath its shadow. The assembled array of vehicles below lit up Jason's sensor's like the skyline of a Nepleslian megacity as he finally passed over, assuming this must be the detachment Corgan had been bragging about back when they stumbled upon the Thieftaker general's private virtual paradise.

A gather of less than land thirty vehicles, more than a third simply wasn't much to the mightiest militaries of 'civilized' space, but along with his mech it represented a nigh unstoppable force to the natives who called 188604 home, more powerful than the force that had utterly broken the world's two strongest armies when the aliens first landed and capable of laying waste to entire city. With weapons of steel and black powder, he doubted that any of the petty warlords or bandit chiefs could keep them from rolling through their lands. Holding them, on the other hand, might prove to be a more intractable obstacle.

Twenty minutes hence from when the Ragnarok officer, the Seraphim had arrived, setting down amongst the invasion preparations. Before long Jason had emerged from it wearing the Moondyne's graft that had replaced his old piloting suit, a brown duster layered over the voidwalker, helmet tucked underneath one arm. "Sup Corgan, I'm ready to move out as soon as your people." He spoke as he walked over to the hulking man in charge. "Whats the plan? Guessing you want to head for the biggest town, take apart whoever we come across that causes trouble and see who we can convince to work with us to keep things running once we're done? Rinse and repeat till the place is pacified, then see where we go from there?"