The dead planet, punctured with craters from meteor showers, lies dead across the gulf of space, with the exception of a large metal dome in the distance. Several Toad Stormtroopers are shoving mammal prisoners-of-war around as explosive devices, similar to Hydrogen Bombs, are carted here and there. The dome is Toad Slave Factory 046 - Slimebomb Division. The Head of the Factory being perhaps one of the most dreaded airmen of the Toad Empire, Wing Commander Sludge.
Post by Brian the Flying Penguin on Feb 16, 2005 10:29:21 GMT -5
Don't know what TBCB means, so sorry if this is in the wrong place.
Rain beat down on the pasticrete surface of landing pad 4 as the transport shuttle “Meteor 2” began its landing approach towards the raised landing platform on the outer edge of the toad base. Repulsor gravmotors held the shuttle aloft as the main engines shut down and it lowered itself to the ground, causing ripples on the water puddle on the surface. As it reached the ground the side hatch opened and four toad soldiers strode down the ramp. Their uniform was of the standard design but they seemed somehow more alert than the usual toad infantry. They took up positions around the ramp, one either side at the base and one on each side, rifles held in both hands with the barrels pointing towards the sodden ground. “All clear sir.” The marine’s commanding officer stepped down the ramp from the shuttle. The officer wore a grey greatcoat and peaked cap with red trimming. His uniform had a hard wearing, utilitarian look about it, completely bereft of the tassels, pleats and medallions with which much of the toad hierarchy seemed so attached. He walked stiffly, the data pad containing his orders held firmly in his left hand. As he stepped down the ramp he looked from left to right, slowly taking in the environment. As he reached the bottom he turned to one of his bodyguard. “Lovely weather. You think they laid it on just for us?” The Sergeant snorted. A Corporal, shoulders hunched in against the rain, scurried out of the lift at the end of the pad. “Captain Staan?” The Corporal peered through the darkness and rain, identified Staan and saluted. Staan raised his fist in greeting. “Hail Komplex.” “Um… yessir.” “I was expecting to be met by Commander Sludge himself” The corporal shrugged. “Sorry about that.” “Never mind. I’m sure that he is a busy man. My orders and identification.” He held his pad out towards the corporal. The corporal waved the pad away. “You want to come inside side sir?” “I’m sorry?” “Way I see it, we can stay out here ‘till the rain eats through our skin, or we can go inside where it’s nice and warm. What’d’ya say?” Captain Staan’s face froze, an expression of utter contempt fixed on his face. “The rain has a pH of 8.7. It would take three days to cause more than minor skin irritation. You will check my identification and my orders and only then will we go anywhere. Am I clear, soldier?” The shocked Corporal took the pad and made a great show of examining the orders. After a moment he handed them back, then stood rigidly to attention and saluted, fist to forehead. “Orders received and verified sah! If you will come with me sah! I will show you to your quarters sah!” Staan nodded. The Corporal, in the perfect pantomime of an efficient soldier, goose-stepped back to the elevator. Staan and his bodyguard followed and a more measured pace.
Post by Brian the Flying Penguin on Feb 17, 2005 6:26:40 GMT -5
Daytime on Toxus was not much of an improvement. On the positive side you could see more of the place. The negative side, Staan thought wryly, was the same. He had been led to the instillations spartan barrack house and assigned a room. Military grey walls and furnishings. If the Komplex academy prepared you for nothing else, it certainly prepared you for sleeping on hard surfaces. Whenhe had awoken early the next morning he had decided to peruse the bases production facilities, to try to get a feel for the working of the place. Instruction on how to run slave facilities was part of basic training but Staan had never had the opportunity to manage one himself. It wasn’t as if the Commander might not know he was here. He would put out a message over the internal communications channel when he was ready to see him. Leaving his coat and weapons belt on the bed Staan had set out for slime distillation facilities in the lower levels. A short ride down an elevator had brought him to the cavernous depths of the base where most of the work was carried out. Orange jump suited slaves were everywhere, mixing chemicals, carrying materials and working on the machinery. Each group was monitored by at least one glowering Stormtoad. As Staan watched a slave in a near by group stopped for a moment to catch his breath. His overseer immediately hit him in the chest with the butt of his rifle, causing him to bend over. Staan averted his gaze from the continued assault, and noticed that it barely registered among the rest of the slaves. Must be a regular occurrence, he thought. This was why the Toad army needed Stormtoads, of course. Conscripts simply couldn’t provide the levels of mindless violence required to keep a large slave population in order. But with any luck, he thought, I can change things. “Excuse me, Captain!” Staan turned. One of the Stormtoads with a group of Hares working on a cluster of sludge pipes had called to him. “But are you here to see Wing Commander Sludge?” ”I will be seeing him, yes.”
All is not lost: the unconquerable will And study of revenge, immortal hate And courage never to submit or yield And what else is not overcome?
* A sonic boom blasts over the toad base as Toad slave ship enters the atmosphere at speeds approaching that of light. The ship activates reverse thrusters to reduce its speed and eventually resorts to deploying parachutes to increase its air resistance. Eventually however it reduces its velocity significantly enough to make a landing approach and it comes to a stop on the bases landing pad. The boarding ramp descends and hundreds of mammal prisoners are marched off at gun point by toad stormtroopers. A toad bearing the insignia of a captian walks up to one of the bases stormtoads. *
"Take me to your commanding officer. I've brought a ship load of slaves captured during our invasion of warren... i believe he may find them useful", snaps the captain as he looks down his nose at the inferior toad.
Last Edit: Feb 26, 2005 19:51:19 GMT -5 by whitehind
Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past. George Orwell
An aged, dark terrier, his fur showing a few flecks of grey, looked up from his work for a moment as he watched the new slaves come in. The faded nametag on his clothing reads Nightstar, D.
Frellin' toads... Not enough they work us old ones to death, they treat the young the same. Poor Donny... he used to look so full of life untill yesterday when he just fell over dead. A real pity. Didn't help his memory much when one of them lame brains just tossed him into a fire in front of everyone else...
He's snapped out of his own mental conversation by a jab with a rifle. Quickly knocked back into his senses, the old dog shuffles back to his station and continues work on the mechanations of the bombs.
Up or down. Left or Right. Good or evil. All is irrelavent when you look at the big picture. Some things can't be answered, but that don't mean you don't try and answer them.
Elsewhere, the Stormtoad is looking over the Stores Room, where several of the new Slimebombs are being stored. A Toad Corporal is counting them and draws a line on a small graph on the wall reading "PRODUCTION YIELD". The graph is obviously proving that production is dropping. "Hope Sludge gets here soon," he thinks to himself. "Things aren't going too well."
Post by Kooshmeister on Feb 27, 2005 18:17:55 GMT -5
A thin toad dressed in a white lab coat and tie enters the Store Room, looking at something on a data pad. He addresses the Stormtoad, threateningly, "Production is dropping, we need to create more of these Slimebombs or else Wing Commander Sludge is going to have you all sent to the front lines and limit your Toad TV."
* The captain of the toad slave ship struts into the storeroom and glances around *
"Well I may just be able to be of assistance", Smirks the black hearted toad, "Pardon me corporal are you in charge of this operation here. Only i've brought around 2000 mammal prisoners captured during the warren, landing to be dispersed to overloaded project leaders... you can take them off my hands if you like". This idea would more than suit the captain as he is aware of the high mammal worker mortality rate on this production line.
Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past. George Orwell
"I reckon that it would be better to use machinery for the job and just shoot these mammals unless they give us information on mammal defences." snarls the Corporal as he looks at the graph with bitter disapointment.
Post by Kooshmeister on Feb 28, 2005 3:29:10 GMT -5
"What was that?!" gasps Professor Wartmon as he barges into the Store Room where the other three toads are. H is a paler green than his colleague, and, unusual among male toads, he actually has hair. Sparse, thinning gray hair to be sure, but hair nonetheless.
Wartmon's eyes also bulge out far larger than most toads, and his eyes are seemingly perpetually crossed, although they will rotate in an unsettling matter in their sockets like a chameleon's whenever he gets excited, like right now.
"Do I sense dissention in the ranks?" Wartmon continues, reaching into the pocket of his lab coat and producing a comically large magnifying glass, which he then uses to examine the Stormtoad extremely closely, no doubt making the poor trooper very uneasy.
"Wing Commander Sludge would not be pleased if he heard such insolence! Which is why he left ME in charge to make sure you simple-minded tadpoles stay in line!" He then smacked the Stormtoad lightly upside his helmeted head and yelled right into his ear, eyeballs spinning wildly, "We'll decide what to do with the mammals and when, NOT YOU!!!"