Riffs
05-23-2008, 08:44 PM
The Clockwerk Run was silent. Normally a bustling thoroughfare of traffic going into and out of Gnomeregan, the cavernous hallway now lay in eerie stillness, lit only by a few scattered emergency lamps. In the dim light, one could make out the detritus left by Gnomish refugees, the last of which had fled down the path only moments earlier.
Seemingly unaffected by the gloom, Sergeant Riffs Brightfuse peered out into the darkness from her position behind a makeshift barricade of discarded robot parts. Not a stranger to combat, she knew the stillness would not last. Stepping down from the wall, Riffs moved along the defensive line, making one last check of the positions of the gnomes in her squad. Riffs' unit, a detachment from A Company, 24th GDF Infantry, were to act as a rearguard for the fleeing refugees, holding the line until the last of the civilians cleared the doomed city. Theirs was a mission with little hope of survival, a fact the gnomes were fully aware of and accepted.
Satisfied that the defenses were as good as the situation allowed, Riffs turned to her second in command Corporal Hubsprocket, a tall male gnome with a shock of pink hair.
"Hubs, any word from the LT?", Riffs asked, already knowing the answer.
"Not a thing, Sarge. Comm's been down ever since the troggs reached the Hall of Gears", replied the Corporal. "I'll keep the lines open, but at this point I'd say we're on our own."
"As usual", Riffs muttered, shifting under the weight of her armor.
She was about to sit down to relieve the strain of bearing so much weight when a wailing, high pitched siren filled the hall.
"Alarm-o-bot 3's been tripped!", yelled Hubsprocket. "They're 500 yards out and closing."
Swearing under her breath, Riffs allowed herself one last moment of relative peace before tightening her grip on her shield and sword. Never one for engineering, she preferred the more reliable, if lower tech, weaponry of the above ground kingdom of Stormwind. Her armament was custom made in Lakeshire and had proven its worth time and again.
"Alright gnomes, time to earn your pay!", barked Riffs. "Rifles, to the firing step. Don't even think about firin' until I give the order, or you'll have worse than troggs to deal with!"
Hopping up onto the hastily constructed barricade, Riffs peered down the hallway, just in time to see the first troggs round the corner only 200 yards out from the gnomish defenses. Troggs were normally hideous creatures, gangly and covered in warts, but these, hideously mutated by radiation, were even worse than usual and emitted an ominous green glow. These troggs were mindless, rage filled monsters and would show no quarter to the defenders.
"Hubs, light 'em up! Show 'em what happens when ya mess with A Company!", Riffs yelled, inciting a cheer from the gnomish defenders.
Turning to the unit's engineer, Hubsprocket snapped out a command. Nodding, the bespectacled engineer jammed down the plunger on a detonator box. A roar filled the hall as several charges detonated, wiping out the front rank of the fast approaching trogg force, much to the delight of the defenders.
"Eyes front!", snapped Riffs. "This ain't over yet."
Sure enough, the explosives had barely dented the numbers in the overwhelming trogg force. The beasts quickly lept over the bodies of the fallen troggs and surged toward the barricade.
"Get those rifles at the ready and prepare to fire!", yelled Riffs.
She'd been in situations like this before, facing the deadly Frostmane trolls who inhabited the lands around Gnomeregan, but Riffs had never gotten over the fear of incoming combat. She could not show it though. Her squad depended on her. The troggs were almost upon them. Stifling the emotion, the sergeant waited a few more seconds and then yelled out the command to fire.
The crack of rifle fire echoed through the hallway and several troggs stumbled and fell. Still more took the shots and continued forward, though. Riffs knew it wasn't enough, but the refugees only needed a little more time. If the gnomes could just hold out...
The troggs were mere yards away, frothing at the mouth and screaming in a horrible, guttural language from before written history. Riffs could sense her troops begin to waver. Throwing caution to the wind, she lept onto the rampart and turning to the defenders, yelled,
"FOR GNOMEREGAN!!!"
The front rank of troggs reached the barricade, throwing themselves at the wall with reckless abandon. Gnome met trogg in fierce hand to hand combat. Riffs and her squad ducked, dodged, and sliced, hacking away at the attackers. The corporal was among the first to fall, torn apart by crazed trogg warriors. Still the line did not falter and for several minutes the gnomes held their own against impossible odds. Slowly but surely, however, the inevitable happened. A Company began to succumb to the overwhelming number of troggs thrown against them. Soon, only a handful of defenders were left.
Seeing that the situation was beyond hope, Riffs turned to the bloody and bruised engineer, who though wounded was still standing, and nodded. It was a desperation move, but a necessary one. If they had only bought the civilians enough time to make it out to the relative safety of Dun Morogh, then the sacrifice of A Company would not have been in vain. Staggering over to a pile of explosives, the engineer slapped the button on a detonator and, with a massive explosion, the Clockwerk Run caved in on itself.
Thrown back and into a wall by the force of the blast, the last thought Riffs had before blacking out was of the safety of the refugees.
((I apologize profusely for any inconvenience my murderous rampage on the rules of grammar may have caused.))
Seemingly unaffected by the gloom, Sergeant Riffs Brightfuse peered out into the darkness from her position behind a makeshift barricade of discarded robot parts. Not a stranger to combat, she knew the stillness would not last. Stepping down from the wall, Riffs moved along the defensive line, making one last check of the positions of the gnomes in her squad. Riffs' unit, a detachment from A Company, 24th GDF Infantry, were to act as a rearguard for the fleeing refugees, holding the line until the last of the civilians cleared the doomed city. Theirs was a mission with little hope of survival, a fact the gnomes were fully aware of and accepted.
Satisfied that the defenses were as good as the situation allowed, Riffs turned to her second in command Corporal Hubsprocket, a tall male gnome with a shock of pink hair.
"Hubs, any word from the LT?", Riffs asked, already knowing the answer.
"Not a thing, Sarge. Comm's been down ever since the troggs reached the Hall of Gears", replied the Corporal. "I'll keep the lines open, but at this point I'd say we're on our own."
"As usual", Riffs muttered, shifting under the weight of her armor.
She was about to sit down to relieve the strain of bearing so much weight when a wailing, high pitched siren filled the hall.
"Alarm-o-bot 3's been tripped!", yelled Hubsprocket. "They're 500 yards out and closing."
Swearing under her breath, Riffs allowed herself one last moment of relative peace before tightening her grip on her shield and sword. Never one for engineering, she preferred the more reliable, if lower tech, weaponry of the above ground kingdom of Stormwind. Her armament was custom made in Lakeshire and had proven its worth time and again.
"Alright gnomes, time to earn your pay!", barked Riffs. "Rifles, to the firing step. Don't even think about firin' until I give the order, or you'll have worse than troggs to deal with!"
Hopping up onto the hastily constructed barricade, Riffs peered down the hallway, just in time to see the first troggs round the corner only 200 yards out from the gnomish defenses. Troggs were normally hideous creatures, gangly and covered in warts, but these, hideously mutated by radiation, were even worse than usual and emitted an ominous green glow. These troggs were mindless, rage filled monsters and would show no quarter to the defenders.
"Hubs, light 'em up! Show 'em what happens when ya mess with A Company!", Riffs yelled, inciting a cheer from the gnomish defenders.
Turning to the unit's engineer, Hubsprocket snapped out a command. Nodding, the bespectacled engineer jammed down the plunger on a detonator box. A roar filled the hall as several charges detonated, wiping out the front rank of the fast approaching trogg force, much to the delight of the defenders.
"Eyes front!", snapped Riffs. "This ain't over yet."
Sure enough, the explosives had barely dented the numbers in the overwhelming trogg force. The beasts quickly lept over the bodies of the fallen troggs and surged toward the barricade.
"Get those rifles at the ready and prepare to fire!", yelled Riffs.
She'd been in situations like this before, facing the deadly Frostmane trolls who inhabited the lands around Gnomeregan, but Riffs had never gotten over the fear of incoming combat. She could not show it though. Her squad depended on her. The troggs were almost upon them. Stifling the emotion, the sergeant waited a few more seconds and then yelled out the command to fire.
The crack of rifle fire echoed through the hallway and several troggs stumbled and fell. Still more took the shots and continued forward, though. Riffs knew it wasn't enough, but the refugees only needed a little more time. If the gnomes could just hold out...
The troggs were mere yards away, frothing at the mouth and screaming in a horrible, guttural language from before written history. Riffs could sense her troops begin to waver. Throwing caution to the wind, she lept onto the rampart and turning to the defenders, yelled,
"FOR GNOMEREGAN!!!"
The front rank of troggs reached the barricade, throwing themselves at the wall with reckless abandon. Gnome met trogg in fierce hand to hand combat. Riffs and her squad ducked, dodged, and sliced, hacking away at the attackers. The corporal was among the first to fall, torn apart by crazed trogg warriors. Still the line did not falter and for several minutes the gnomes held their own against impossible odds. Slowly but surely, however, the inevitable happened. A Company began to succumb to the overwhelming number of troggs thrown against them. Soon, only a handful of defenders were left.
Seeing that the situation was beyond hope, Riffs turned to the bloody and bruised engineer, who though wounded was still standing, and nodded. It was a desperation move, but a necessary one. If they had only bought the civilians enough time to make it out to the relative safety of Dun Morogh, then the sacrifice of A Company would not have been in vain. Staggering over to a pile of explosives, the engineer slapped the button on a detonator and, with a massive explosion, the Clockwerk Run caved in on itself.
Thrown back and into a wall by the force of the blast, the last thought Riffs had before blacking out was of the safety of the refugees.
((I apologize profusely for any inconvenience my murderous rampage on the rules of grammar may have caused.))