Ich hab da was (schon vor Zeiten) verfasst, um meine 40K Spiele in einen erzählerischen Rahmen zu stellen.
Ist in (mittelmäßigen) Englisch - an alle Native Speaker mit bitte um Entschuldigung/Korrektur :O
An Dominicus: In Englisch, weil mein Gegner mal eine Internetseite basteln will, die im erzählerischen Stil unsere Spiele dokumentiert.
Aber ich hab noch was deutschsprachiges auch im Ärmel...
The Field Generals office with his lush Anterian carpets and stained glass windows had, over the course of five days been transformed into a theoretical battlefield ? armies were walking over the hardwood desk, being trenched next to General Waltenbergs bookshelf and resupplied by a series of trucks roaming over his exquisite collection of staurian copper plates. The whole arrangement was whoefully inadequate to the task at hand, but the Generals staff had promised him now for three days to come up with a fully holographic solution.
But Friedrich Waltenberg had worked under worse condition than these, having reached his 4 Star honors by serving in the Imperial army all across the sector. He was no desk man, but his own success and, although he hated to admit it, his ripe age of 73 had forced him away from more active duties. But, matters being what they were, he grimly thought by himself, it was not altogether sure that he would celebrate his 74th birthday anymore.
The alien aggressors had already secured a firm beachhead in the ruins of some northern outpost and kept pouring onto his denfense lines. So far it had been a matter of smaller skirmishes, ambushes in the wooded areas and a few destroyed supply trucks. But his lines were holding, strengthening every day and being reinforced by the hour with fresh troops and tanks. The situation looked better than it had a few days ago, more under control but yet there was a nagging feeling at the back of Waltenbergs mind.
?We have had tremendous success against the Tyranids. They now are demoralized, cut off from their leaders and low on supplies. Now ist the time to strike, not to trench in and wait for them to spawn. Lets bring the Emperors vengeance to their ungodly hives !? Colonel Hohenweilers strong voice shook Waltenberg out of his thoughts, and brought him back to his cluttered office. His adjutant was a capable officer in times of peace, the son of an influential council member, and the best paper-pusher Waltenberg had ever had. But this, his first real war was way too much for him, and he continued to come forth with the absurdest of ideas. Waltenberg prayed daily to the Emperor that nobody ever gave Hohenweiler the command over troops in the field. The rest of his staff were, sadly, of the same upbringing and abilites. All of them highly educated men with no real combat experience, some of them verging on the useless. Waltenberg gritted his teeth, thinking of his men in the field, who were probably at this very moment scared to death by some unknown alien horror. The disaster at Newgrange had not only cost the General his most able and experienced men, but with Hyronimus Wanten also a close personal friend. The only blessing the Emperor had deemed to send him were the Adeptus Astartes, but in his experience, an arrival of the armoured giants had without exclusion meant far more trouble than everybody else had anticipated. It seemed like the emperors finest had a way of discerning the bloodiest conflicts in the galaxy. His personal confessor had always claimed that the Emperor himself was leading his warriors to where they were needed the most, but Waltenberg doubted his own importance was high enough to warrant His personal attention. ?The aliens have, in the course of the last 16 hours,rushed four times against our defense lines, and they have alway been beaten back with minimal losses. The loss of Newgrange was a terrible desaster, but now we are the ones who dictate the course of this war. Let them pay for our fallen.? Hohenweilers voice kept reminding Waltenberg of the duties at hand- to protect his men from the alien menace and the downright stupid ideas of his officers. ? Not yet!? The Generals unexpected outburst stopped the murmur in the office immediately. ?The Tyranids were, even though it may look like we have the advantage at the moment, not severly weakend by the conflicts of the last days. What have they really lost thanks to our effort ? A few of the smaller warrior creatures and a handful of the bigger ones we know as Tyranid Warrios. We have not yet received a message of contact with Hive Tyrants or any of the other bigger alien organism. While I do not doubt that many of the reports of soldiers gone MIA is due to the activity of lictors hunting behind our main lines, we have not yet seen any serious fighting going on. So, Colonel, what do you make of this beside your often voiced conclusion that we have already won.Think man, think ? light, mobile troops making a series of attacks against fixed installations. How would you classify this, Hohenweiler? Remember Suckovs Tactica Milites Imperialis, on the use of fast infantry.?
?They scout, General, they test and they gather information.? The response, voiced in a deep, resonant bariton from across the room caught everyone by surprise. A scarred giant of a man, clad in scarlet power armour strode proudly into the room. The markings on the shoulder pad showed him to be a Veteran sergeant, but his confident demeanor proclaimed him an equal to any man in the room. ?Absolutely correct, Brother Manaeus, yes, they scout. They test our defenses, look where our supply routes are and they remember where our batteries are installed. May the Emperor help us when they think they are ready. And Brother Manaeus is here to tell you exactly why the Tyranid attack has come to sudden halt. Because the Blood Angels had ripped of the heads of the alien scum whenever they could. They have, up to this date, led 144 sorties against our enemy, carrying the emperors vengeance against the repulsive brood. By slaying the higher evolved Tyranids, our blessed allies have crippled their chain of command and thrown the smaller creatures into dissaray. They have bought us time to reinforce. We have won a battle, but the war has not yet really started.?
Tense silenced followed Waltenbergs words, followed by timid glances at the small number of toy soldiers on Waltenbergs desks. And the General had not yet told them the final truth behind his words-the Blood Angels might have jumped right into the lions maw- but far less had returned than had jumped into it. The aliens were not the only ones who had died on the field of battle.
Ist in (mittelmäßigen) Englisch - an alle Native Speaker mit bitte um Entschuldigung/Korrektur :O
An Dominicus: In Englisch, weil mein Gegner mal eine Internetseite basteln will, die im erzählerischen Stil unsere Spiele dokumentiert.
Aber ich hab noch was deutschsprachiges auch im Ärmel...
The Field Generals office with his lush Anterian carpets and stained glass windows had, over the course of five days been transformed into a theoretical battlefield ? armies were walking over the hardwood desk, being trenched next to General Waltenbergs bookshelf and resupplied by a series of trucks roaming over his exquisite collection of staurian copper plates. The whole arrangement was whoefully inadequate to the task at hand, but the Generals staff had promised him now for three days to come up with a fully holographic solution.
But Friedrich Waltenberg had worked under worse condition than these, having reached his 4 Star honors by serving in the Imperial army all across the sector. He was no desk man, but his own success and, although he hated to admit it, his ripe age of 73 had forced him away from more active duties. But, matters being what they were, he grimly thought by himself, it was not altogether sure that he would celebrate his 74th birthday anymore.
The alien aggressors had already secured a firm beachhead in the ruins of some northern outpost and kept pouring onto his denfense lines. So far it had been a matter of smaller skirmishes, ambushes in the wooded areas and a few destroyed supply trucks. But his lines were holding, strengthening every day and being reinforced by the hour with fresh troops and tanks. The situation looked better than it had a few days ago, more under control but yet there was a nagging feeling at the back of Waltenbergs mind.
?We have had tremendous success against the Tyranids. They now are demoralized, cut off from their leaders and low on supplies. Now ist the time to strike, not to trench in and wait for them to spawn. Lets bring the Emperors vengeance to their ungodly hives !? Colonel Hohenweilers strong voice shook Waltenberg out of his thoughts, and brought him back to his cluttered office. His adjutant was a capable officer in times of peace, the son of an influential council member, and the best paper-pusher Waltenberg had ever had. But this, his first real war was way too much for him, and he continued to come forth with the absurdest of ideas. Waltenberg prayed daily to the Emperor that nobody ever gave Hohenweiler the command over troops in the field. The rest of his staff were, sadly, of the same upbringing and abilites. All of them highly educated men with no real combat experience, some of them verging on the useless. Waltenberg gritted his teeth, thinking of his men in the field, who were probably at this very moment scared to death by some unknown alien horror. The disaster at Newgrange had not only cost the General his most able and experienced men, but with Hyronimus Wanten also a close personal friend. The only blessing the Emperor had deemed to send him were the Adeptus Astartes, but in his experience, an arrival of the armoured giants had without exclusion meant far more trouble than everybody else had anticipated. It seemed like the emperors finest had a way of discerning the bloodiest conflicts in the galaxy. His personal confessor had always claimed that the Emperor himself was leading his warriors to where they were needed the most, but Waltenberg doubted his own importance was high enough to warrant His personal attention. ?The aliens have, in the course of the last 16 hours,rushed four times against our defense lines, and they have alway been beaten back with minimal losses. The loss of Newgrange was a terrible desaster, but now we are the ones who dictate the course of this war. Let them pay for our fallen.? Hohenweilers voice kept reminding Waltenberg of the duties at hand- to protect his men from the alien menace and the downright stupid ideas of his officers. ? Not yet!? The Generals unexpected outburst stopped the murmur in the office immediately. ?The Tyranids were, even though it may look like we have the advantage at the moment, not severly weakend by the conflicts of the last days. What have they really lost thanks to our effort ? A few of the smaller warrior creatures and a handful of the bigger ones we know as Tyranid Warrios. We have not yet received a message of contact with Hive Tyrants or any of the other bigger alien organism. While I do not doubt that many of the reports of soldiers gone MIA is due to the activity of lictors hunting behind our main lines, we have not yet seen any serious fighting going on. So, Colonel, what do you make of this beside your often voiced conclusion that we have already won.Think man, think ? light, mobile troops making a series of attacks against fixed installations. How would you classify this, Hohenweiler? Remember Suckovs Tactica Milites Imperialis, on the use of fast infantry.?
?They scout, General, they test and they gather information.? The response, voiced in a deep, resonant bariton from across the room caught everyone by surprise. A scarred giant of a man, clad in scarlet power armour strode proudly into the room. The markings on the shoulder pad showed him to be a Veteran sergeant, but his confident demeanor proclaimed him an equal to any man in the room. ?Absolutely correct, Brother Manaeus, yes, they scout. They test our defenses, look where our supply routes are and they remember where our batteries are installed. May the Emperor help us when they think they are ready. And Brother Manaeus is here to tell you exactly why the Tyranid attack has come to sudden halt. Because the Blood Angels had ripped of the heads of the alien scum whenever they could. They have, up to this date, led 144 sorties against our enemy, carrying the emperors vengeance against the repulsive brood. By slaying the higher evolved Tyranids, our blessed allies have crippled their chain of command and thrown the smaller creatures into dissaray. They have bought us time to reinforce. We have won a battle, but the war has not yet really started.?
Tense silenced followed Waltenbergs words, followed by timid glances at the small number of toy soldiers on Waltenbergs desks. And the General had not yet told them the final truth behind his words-the Blood Angels might have jumped right into the lions maw- but far less had returned than had jumped into it. The aliens were not the only ones who had died on the field of battle.
--Painted Only--
