Army Men: The RPG (game thread)

[ImageKlonoa]

It all started with an arguement. Two brothers, torn between ideas and debating them with great ferocity. But this conflict doesnt end in violence...at least not directly between them...

Both brothers call upon the forces of tiny plastic men, the very same ones we all know and love. Under the guidance of their human commander, they set out to crush and destroy all their enemies, and settle this skirmish once and for all. Isnt that was army men are meant for anyway?

Inside the tan commander's room, inside a overturned toolbox, sits General Thompson III. He has his hands to his mouth, an intense look on his face. One of the compartment doors opens and a figure is at the door.

"Sir, Seargeant Mattila is here," it says.

"Bring him in," Thompson responds with his brash voice. Another figure appears, and they trade spaces.

"Ah, you're here." Thompson spins around in his chair, now facing Matilla.
"I have a couple assignments for you, primary and priority being setting out throughout the immediate area, and find and secure any resources you may find."

"yes sir," Matilla acknowleged.

"Alright, good. Your secondary will be reconnaisance, if you find troop movements during your primary mission.

"yes sir."

"you and your team will be issued a Zip-Zap for added mobility. Its the only one we have at the moment, so be careful with it. But its stealthy and very fast, so you shouldnt have much problem.

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Are you clear on your objectives, Seargent?

"Yes sir."

"Ok then. You are dismissed."

"Yes sir." Matilla turns to leave

"Oh and seargeant!" Thompson calls.

"Yes sir?"

"Good to see you again." He stands up from his chair and salutes.

"Thank you, sir." Matilla returns the salute, then sets off.

[Statalyzer]

Not far from the toolbox, behind a bookshelf, Colonel Lane Jensen was relaxing and reflecting. There hadn't been a war in almost a year, and most of the old plastic veterans of that war in Jensen's recon company had been traded by one of the brothers.
He, like all the others in the Tan army, had heard rumors that the kids in the house were getting along badly enough that war was going to begin again. For all he knew, it had already begun and he'd be hearing from the General any moment. Or maybe it was just the false alarms of an restless group of soldiers unacclimated to long periods of peace. Lane's younger years had seen the Civil Wars in the West End House, the Tan Invasions, an uneasy truce, and then the Basement Wars of the Old Manor, and then the Green Betrayal that started the Long War that happened in the families' current dwelling. But this house had been peaceful so long, many thought the kids were too old. Maybe their toy soldier days were over.
But maybe not, if the rumors were true. He hoped they didn't. He may have been fighting for Tan, but so many of his troops were green, rookies, never seen combat. At least he was ready. He started just hoping it would begin; he was tired of all these rumors and conjecture. Lane Jensen was never one to enjoy negociations.

[Wesforce]

'Jezebel... Oh Jezebel?'

'Yes, General?'

'Would you be so kind as to get that skiving, conniving little sycophantic jackass Crouton to get his flabby goddamn green ass into the briefing room on the double?'

'I will indeed, General.' Winked Jezebel.

She got out of their bed - First floor in the Scindy playhouse that sat mouldering above the wardrobe in the Commander-in-Chief of the Green's forces bedroom.

'On the double, secretary!' Winked General Albert Geoffrey Johnathan VinDiesel III - Supreme Commander, Green Forces, giving the tan-skinned plastic doll a playful slap on the backside.

Though their relationship was anything but proper, AGJ - as his one friend was allowed to call him - Knew some of the men talked about it, to his consternation.

Let them talk, those closed-minded plastic drones He thought. Just because none of them are in my position, they think its wrong somehow to be involved with a woman because she's a different plastic colour, three times your height and fully-posable? Ha! I'll show them!

He watched her sashay out of the room.

Fully posable... Indeed. He smirked.

***

AGJ Vindiesel III waited a few minutes after Crouton arrived before entering the room. Though he demanded complete punctuality from his subordinates, he felt it necessary to let them wait a while - Especially insufferable fools like Crouton.

Exactly three minutes later, he entered.

'Esteemed General!' Snapped Crouton, standing bolt upright in a perfect salute in an instant. The General returned that salute half-heartedly.

'Since I cannot for a moment stand the pathetic company of meddlesome fools such as yourself, Crouton' Said the General, sitting at his desk to open a green classified Documents folder, 'I shall be brief.'

'Yes General! You are most generous, General sir!'

'Quite. Now shut up crouton.'

The General handed an order sheet to Crouton.

'Do you understand what that says?'

'I... Yes General, yes!'

'And?'

'Um... I'm in charge of the forward armines, sir?'

'In charge of the forward armies, and therefore of the main crux of the offensive operation into Tan-land. Yes, crouton. And do you understand that line at the bottom?'

'Yes General. Ah... Um... I am to shoot myself if the attack fails?'

'Quite. You see theres a lot riding on this attack, Crouton. I dread having to entrust it to a fool like you but... Well, I dread having to entrust it to a fool like you. Is that clear?'

'Yes General Yes! May your glory shine like the beacon guiding us through these troubled times!'

'Whatever. Now, come with me.'

***

'Soldiers of Greenland, Hear me!' Said General Albert Geoffrey Johnathan Vindiesel III. He was wearing full green dress uniform, his buttons shined to a high green. His brushed green tunic carried dozens of campaign ribbons and medals - All green. A green plastic sash crossed between the green frogging of his huge broad shoulders, and linked to the voluminous green cape that gave his figure a remarkable air of authority. His eyes were shaded in menacing fashion by green Aviator shades.

'It has been two months since the war. Two months!' He screamed. To a man, every soldier in the carry box shivered.

'Two months of shame. Two months of betrayal. Two months of being at the bottom of the toybox!'

The soldiers booed and hissed at the memories, as the MPs cajoled them too.

'But have I languished in self-pity? Have I sat back and let those tan bastards lord it over us? No. No! NO!'

'NO!' the soldiers chorused.

'I have built up our armies! Our numbers have increased threefold! We have doubled our tanks and helicopters! We have developed... Special weapons.'

The soldiers gasped - Special weapons were always controversial.

'I know some among us - lily-livered liberals and tan sympathisers all - Didn't like the idea of special weapons. "Oh they're not necesary, oh they'll get everyone killed"' The General whined, in mockery.

'Well I have an answer to those traitors!' The General spat. He pointed at a cluster of Greens in labcoats - They were tied with tightly-wound elastic bands to pencils stuck into the bottom of the box.

'You are wrong, traitors! Men of greenland, how do we deal with traitors?'

'Burn them! Burn them! Aiiieeeee!!!' Screamed the Greens. Some men near the front of the crowd actually frothed at the mouth and spat liquid plastic.

The General raised his hands, snapped his fingers.

An officer whipped the cover off a curious device - A tall circle of glass, curved in such a fashion it captured the sunlight coming in through the bedroom window - And directed it at the captives.

'No! No! Mercy! MERCY! AIIEEEEEEE!'

The crowd shivered. Melting was by far the worst way for a plastic man to die. Even Three month old veterans of the war were shaken by the sight, and the smell of burning plastic.

'And now, my loyal brethren, I give you my greatest gift. As I speak, our advanced mechanized forces are over three quarters of the way across the landing - At the gates to enemy territory itself! In less than an hours time, we weill launch the most devastating surprise attack in the history of warfare.'

The General lowered his gaze, and looked menacingly over his glasses at the massed men.

'Men of greenland, my gift to you... IS WAR!'

'War! War!' the men screamed, before the chant turned to 'Vindiesel! Vindiesel! Vindiesel!'

The General stalked off, to a thunderous applause. It better be thunderous He thought. And this better work, or we're all dead men... Whether we die by Tan bullets or by green!

***

'Move move move!' Screamed Timberlake. 'Come on! Keep moving!'

It was hard to be heard over the roar of the truck engines - The whole convoy was moving flat out. In front of them, a whole Brigade - The 123rd Mechanized Attack Brigade - Was fanning out into attack formation.

It had been a long and arduous journey across the landing - That arid, desolate landscape. The carpet was murder on the tracks and wheels of the vehicles, and there weren't any toys in sight, or boxes for respite. Twice they had been menaced by a huge, four-legged hairy beast capable of carrying whole men and tanks away in its jaws. They hadn't seen it since the 667th Army Attack Helicopter Battalion sent a few guided missiles up its butthole.

But now, their long journey was at an end - The door to Greenville was in sight.

the order came over the Regimental net.

+All units, get to emergency attack position bravo+

Two trucks drove past - They carried something large wrapped in a tarpaulin between their vehicles.

'What the frick is that thing?' Said Sergeant Major Pitt.

'Thats not for us to know, Sergeant Major. Stay alert. Keep the guardsmen busy.'

'Sir. Its not easy sir, without their precious Emperor, they panic easy.'

'Alright. Keep them near the front. They won't run away with our guns at their backs.'

'Sir.'

Something was happening now, Timberlake noted. The two trucks had raced ahead and were nearing the door. A man whipped the Tarpaulin off to reveal-

'Sweet Mother of Jovis! Its one of the special weapons!' He screamed.

It was indeed - A huge, fat red explosive device. As he watched, two of the crewmen struggled to light a match as long as they were tall. With this, they lit the fuse, and drove full-pelt at the door.

'For GREEEEEEENLAND!'

*BOOOOM*

'My Grudd!' Gasped Timberlake. 'The way is open!'

It was: The door had been blasted open. He could see into Tanland. Teddybears and Micromachines hung around looking dazed.

+All units! ATTACK! ATTACK! NO MERCY!+

The tanks drove in, crushing micromachines under track, rippling the whole area with machinegun fire. A teddybear put his enormour furry bulk across a visiting Beau-Peep doll in an effort to protect her - A point-blank tank round took off both their heads. Three or four smaller teddybears got to their knees and put their arms up in surrender. A Green flamer-tank put an end to them.

'Come on!' Urged Timberlake. 'The further we get into Tan territory the harder the time they'll have forcing us out! Attack!'

He turned to Pitt beside him.

'I love the smell of burning teddybear in the morning. It smells like... Victory!'

'Hear that.' Said Pitt. 'Furry bastards... Never did trust them.'

Now some Tan troops were appearing from behind a pile of books. Machinegun fire from the trucks tore into them and sent the survivors back to cover.

But more Tan troops were appearing - No doubt reconassiance units had seen the attack coming.

'Timberlake to all units - take cover behind the tanks!'

[AI]

Deep in the bowels of the Peoples Republic of New Greenland, secluded from all else in a pit of despair that's as black as the very darkest depths of Ghandi's soul, sat the house that Citadel minitures built. Inside a gothic ruin, made from reinforced plastic and lashings of super glue, was the clinic-come-laboratory of Doktar Avalanche.

Inside, the Doktar was hard at work. Holding a custom built saw, made from cheesewire and an old paperclip, over and open flame. He realised now that he had simply been setting his sights too high before, trying to walk before he could crawl, if you will. But not this time, this time he was starting on the bottom rung. Change in it's most simplistic form...

... Well, almost.

Taking the saw away from the flame, he strolled over to his 'operating table'. Currently home of a chained up TAN spy. It was pathetic, the green paint would have <i>still</i> been flaking from his sorry hide, if the Doktar hadn't already recoloured him a lurid yellow.

He took the saw and hovered with it over several parts of the man's body.

"Where to start? Oh, where to start...?" He pondered out loud, before his perpetual sneer became ever more cruel and mocking. "At the top, of course!"

Three simple cuts and it was done. Like aa hot cheesewire through plastic, the head of the man rolled away in the opposite direction of his body. Satisfied, he began to heat a small pin over the flame of the lighter he had been using before, digging the newly heated instrument into the man's neck.

"Bring on the head!" He cried, a million sqeaky voices sqealed in reply.

Soon the floor of the clinic was swarmed by little yellow balls with deep set eyes seemingly punched into them. They were the Doktar's proudest work, he'd found them in a container under his 'master's' bed. Pah, like he answered to anybody but the Lord of Change himself!

They rolled onto the floor, like a living carpet. Moving as if they were one, much like a shoal of fish. Soon, a small tissue-wrapped package rolled it's way down the sea of little balls, he took it by the horns.

Literally.

Stripping the packaging from it, he held up a Beastman's head to his collected minions, all of whom sqeaked in apprciation. He rested it where the TAN filth's head had been moments before, slipping it onto the otherside of the pin.

A tower of pellets rose up to meet him as he turned around, acting like a small table for which a wad of 'Green Stuff' (yes, that is a technical term!) rested. Taking it, he filled in the gaps, moulding his new creation a thick neck with bulbous veins protruding from it. It was a masterpiece! A work of genius! And soon, it would LIVE!

He resisted the urge to cackle. This was, after all, only the first phase.

"Shoo!" He said to the collected minions, the resonded instantly, rolling back to their container. He threw a hankercheif over the operating table, before taking a well deserved lunch break.

[Statalyzer]

Jensen awoke from his light nap with a start, to the sound of a crackling radio and a frantic operator. "Colonel, war has begun, we're under attack!" exclaimed the man at the radio as Col. Jensen. sprinted over to the set. "What the devil? No declaration of war or anything?"

"Not from what I've heard, just announcements that green has come down from the attic and attacked."

"Damn those bastards, never did trust them even in peacetime. Who's been calling us? All I hear now is static."

"I don't know, sir" responded the operator, "It wasn't an annoucement from the General, it could have been a front-line commander desperate for reinforcements."

"Well I'd love to give him some, but I'm designated for reconnaisance, plus half my men aren't here anyway. Stay by the radio and see if you can call Corporal Alton, get him to call up the rest of the battalion. I'm going over to the General's toolbox and see what he knows. I hope he don't mind me dropping in unannounced but this sounds serious." Jensen had already begun to walk in that direction.

"I'll call Alton, sir, and see what other reports I can raise. So far the war seems to be a couple of rooms over on the ground floor of the house. Don't think they're near either of the basement stairs yet."

"There's some good news then." Jensen said as he quickened his pace, arriving quickly at the toolbox. He figured the General already knew, but he might as well try. "Is Thompson inside?" he asked the solider posted by the door, "I'm hearing that Greenland has launched an attack!"

[Wesforce]

'Repel them! Maximum Resistance! Maximum resistance!'

Timberlake screamed at his men to hunker down and start firing - The guardsmen did so, lying prone and sending bright stabs at laser light back at their enemy as the bullets started flying. For his own part Timberlake threw himself to the varnished hardwood floor as projectiles began ricocheting off his truck's body. He could hear Sergeant-Major Pitt bellowing orders not far off.

On the enemy came, charging recklessly in a desperate attempt to oust the green invaders. The lead man was hit once, twice by lasfire - Timberlake noted the notoriously underpowered weapons were proving their worth. It took a good couple of hits to bring a man down. Other green troops with proper plastic rifles were scoring hits - But even though they were behind cover, they took casualities from the sheer weight of Tan fire coming down on them.

'We must retreat!' Screamed one of the Imperial Guardsmen. 'The Emperor has abandoned us!'

The soldier got up to run away. Several others followed suit.

'Oh no you don't!' Yelled Timberlake. In spite of the flying bullets, he hopped up onto the pintle mount of his truck. Something tugged at his left sleeve - a bullet coming too close for comfort. Nevertheless he cocked the M60 and swung it round to bear on the fleeing cowards.

'DEATH TO TRAITORS!'

'No!'

'Mercy! AIIIEEEEE!'

Bullets whipped up all around the retreating guardsmen, pockmarking the floor and tearing their bodies to shreds. They crumpled in undignified heaps, quite dead. It served as an example to the rest of the guardsmen, who never thought about running away again.

Timberlake swung the '60 round again.

'For TAN - ARRRRGGHHH!!!!'

A massed rush of Tan troops broke cover as their officer saw a chance to take care of confusion in the green lines. There was none, there was no respite. Not one of them made it 20 centimetres before all were cut down by massed machine gun and lasfire.

By the end of it Timberlake was dripping with sweat and shaking. Worse, he suspected he'd pissed himself - But they'd held the enemy off. Wiped them out, even.

One of the guardsmen stood up and looked up at him, reverently.

'... And he shall smite the foes of humankind with holy vigour and [i]righteous anger!'

All the guardsmen knelt in the posture of respect in Timberlake's direction. Another added:

'And he shall not suffer the traitor, the mutant, the coward nor the alien to win. Hail the Emperor!'

'HAIL THE EMPEROR!'

'Sergeant-Major Pitt!' Bawled Timberlake. 'What are these cranially-challenged freaking imbeciles trying to say?'

'They think you're their Emperor, sir.'

'Do they indeed.' Timberlake snorted. 'Get 'em loaded up. We'll head out again. Follow to tanks. Next objective is, uh-' He consulted his map. 'Bookshelfville!'

The men loaded into their trucks.

'Armour! Advance!'

The tanks and lorries headed off, engines roaring. However, many civilian toys were still roaring about in confusion - Crowds of them everywhere. Because of the untidy state of the bedroom, they were getting in the way and slowing the advance.

One toy, some kind of plasticine figurine, refused to get out of the way of the lead tank.

'Get outta the way ya goddamned idiot!' Screamed the tank commander, leaning from his cupola.

'DEATH TO THE GREENS!' the plasticine man screamed - Charging headlong at the tank.

'Oh SNAP-' Murmured Timberlake.

The toy was made of plasticine - Plasticine explosive! The suicide bomber detonated himself with a shockingly loud, flat BANG that atomised everyone close to him - Fleeing refugee toys mainly - And shockwaves flattened people further out. The tank was blown to it's component pieces - tracks, turret, hull, cannon.

The screaming, smouldering torso and seperate head of the tank commander landed next to Timberlake, in his supply truck, who looked agape in horror.

[ImageKlonoa]

Matilla's recon unit arrived just as the green battalion was heading out. A little to little, a little to late, as that quote goes. His brash medic hops off the zip-zap to search for survivors, if any.

Through the noise of the engines were some moans from behind a dirty sweater. There, the medic found a tan heavy trooper, separated from mind and body, almost literally.

"Oh god, my legs, my legs!" he whined.

"Your legs, huh?" the medic said. "Gimme your finger." Upon doing this, albeit puzzled, he snaps it off with that familiar 'pop' we all know and love. Screaming ensues.

"Cant feel tha pain in your legs, now huh? Now we can patch you up."

Tan medics really need to be equipped with anesthetics.

---

"WHAT!?" Thompson roared.

"They're all lost," a frail voice replied. "Our swinging wall defenses have been compromised indefinetely...the middle land may not be under our control anymore.

Thompson sighs then flops back down in his chair, his brow casting a mean shadow on his face.

"Seems these green bastards dont use real battle tactics anymore. They're like savages! Alright then, we'll play this little game with them for now."

He picks up a tan phone and presses the Big Tan Button.

"Mission control, this is Weapons General Thompson, ID Sierra Echo X-ray 442. Initiate phase 2 of the E-Maxx project. Go to Defcon 2 and make sure anyone who gets near our scientists are killed. Even if its me."

"Complying General." Thompson hangs up the phone, and grins.

[BlckWyerve]

The explosion and concussive blast ripped through the calm of the room. Agustus watched with binoculared eyes and a quiet grin. Intelligence had been right for once, the local populace was quite willing to help by any mean's necessary. He threw his binoculars back down the hatch of his command tank and raised his hand in signal.

"We're going to move in to flank their convoy. Division A, take the left! Division B, move ahead and draw their fire! We will circle to the right and cut off their retreat. Move out!"

He dropped into the interior the tank and latched the hatch behind him. Beyond the roar of his own war machine, he could hear the sounds of rolling death all around him. Hopefully, he thought to himself, Death will only pay Green a visit. He signaled the driver, and the tank fell in line with the rest of the divison as it broke from the cover of assorted potted plants.

The Green convoy was only a few feet from their position, and as they rounded a palm plant, Augustus heard the unmistakable stuttering of the Tan tanks' .50s opening up and muted screams from outside the armored shell. Cannon fire echoed through the radio as tank commanders called in kills. Augustus couldn't help but let a grin slip arcoss his face.

"All is going according to plan. Once re rout this force, it will only be a matter of time before this room fal-"

Agustus was cut off as an explsion raked the front of his tank. Flames belched into an open viewport and the driver was quickly consumed amid horrified gasps from the rest of the crew.

"What the hell just happned?!"

Before anyone could answer, another explosion rocked the tank, sending Augustus out of his seat and into the side of the armor. He felt the intoduction of plastic bone to plastic metal, and then nothing at all.

[ImageKlonoa]

A little tan light flashes on Gen. Thompson's phone, and he presses a tan keypad. "Some is here to see you, General."

"Send him in," he says, and the little compartment door to his office opens. Jensen steps inside.

"Sir, I have word that Greenland has launch an attack!"

The fury from hearing about it the first time started to churn, but soon dissipates.

"That's very right, soldier. And they will see first-hand that we dont take kindly to that."

He rolls back in his chair just enough to open a large filing cabinet. He then takes out a tan manila folder (what other color do they come in?).

"Colonel Lane Jensen."

"Yes sir."

"Good news soldier, looks like you're part of this little program of mine. Not too many people get the opportunity to utilize our most powerful weapons system. You are assigned to the barracks in the lower level bathroom area. you and your comrades will recieve further order there."

"Yes sir" Jeensen replied.

"That's than, then son. You are dismissed." They salute, tan-style, then Jensen leaves. Outside the door, he didnt know whether to be excited or be scared by being on this new 'mysterious' team.

[Wesforce]

Timberlake picked himself up off the floor. The Tan counter-attack had inflicted casualties on the Armour column, but they were paying the price for that. Anti-Tank helicopters lashed their positions with missiles and rockets. Men scrambled out of a burning Tan tank, rapidly melting into a puddles. One of the tank crew screamed and rolled about on the floor as his leg burned into molten plastic. His comrades could only watch, horrified as he began melting too, until the sergeant put a plastic round through his brain.

Then a quick burst of 30mm Cannon fire reduced them all to plastic splinters.

The battered Tan tanks withdrew, having lost 5 of their number. But Timberlake had the feeling they'd be back.

+123rd Command here. Keep those damn choppers overhead! We're vulnerable here! We need to reach bookshelfville and secure the position. Oh, and someone do something about those motherfragging civilians!+

'On it sir!' Timberlake reported, glad that he'd get a chance to stay out of the firing line for a bit.

The tanks roared off, after the retreating Tans - But the green tanks had taken casualties too. Timberlake had lost a few guardsmen. His truck reversed over their bodies as the truck convoy took off in the direction of the refugee toy procession.

The toys, he saw, were waving a white flag. A portly peanut with a monocle and top hat demanded to speak to the commanding officer.

'That'll be me, peanut. What do you want?'

'We demand safe passage to the Middle land. We're not part of your goddamn war, Green man. We are neither Tan nor green. Leave us out of this!.

'You're in no position to demand anything, peanut!' Timberlake laughed. 'Y'all are lucky I don't execute ever motherfragging last one of yous for what you did with that plasticine man back there. But I'm a good man. I'm going to give you a choice. Who wants to go home - And who wants to come with me?'

'You're insane!' Said the Peanut. 'What diabolical despottery is this?'

'Thats enought outta you.' Said Timberlake - He nodded to two of his Guardsmen. They dragged the peanut off, protestting.

A moment later came the sound of a las-shot.

'Like I was saying: Who wants to go home, and who wants to come with me?'

***

A while later, Timberlake's column rejoined the tank column. Surprisingly many of the civilian toys had joined them, rather than face the consequences: Now thirty-odd toys walked in front of the tanks, green rifles in their hands.

'Good work, Timberlake.' Said the Commander of the 123rd. 'What did you do with the rest of them?'

'Well sir,' Smirked Timberlake. 'Lets just say, they're going to make a Fantastic Voyage!'

***

Out on the Landing, the refugee toys struggled through the harsh wilderness. They couldn't go back and face the Greens: They'd be shot, for sure. But that meant trying to find the mythical, virtually impassable natural cliff formation known as 'The Stairs'. If they somehow survived that, not to mention crossing the dust-blown wilderness to find it, they might have a chance to get to safety.

'This is worse than the great Charity shop collection of '03!' Wailed a rubik's cube. All the old-timers regarded that act as the single greatest disaster - manmade or otherwise - To befall toy kind.

The toy to his left was a short, fat plumber in red with a moustache. The Rubik's cube thought he was retarded.

'Iss a me, Mario!' Said the plumber, proving the Rubik's cube right.

'Hey... Whats that?' Said another toy.

From the distance, appearing from the darkness like a daemon from the 7th ring of hell, came the abomination. 2 feet tall, covered in fur, smelling so foul that several toys dropped dead from the stench, slobber dribbling from its gaping, rotten mouth...

The Dog attacked.

None of the toys were ever seen again.

***

Augustus put his binoculars down.

The bastards. They killed my tank... Killed my men... But this... This is a war crime.

He'd barely escaped from his tank before it melted completely, and now he was all on his own, remaining in cover while the Greens reached Bookshelfville.

You'll pay... You bastards... You'll pay.

***

+123rd Commander to all units! We've reached Bookshelfville! ATTACK!+

'ATTACK!' Timberlake screamed.

The first units sent in were the Green's locally-recruited soldiers. Untrained, with no cover, the withering Tan gunfire from the bookshelf massacred them. Men, women and inaminate objects were blasted to their component chunks before Timberlake's eyes. It seemed like there was a machinegun or anti-tank gun in every crevasse of the fortress. Bullets flew so thick and fast, it was like being in a lead hailstorm.

The Greens responded by firing tanks and artillery back at them. Helicopters turned whole shelves into sheets of flame with rockets and cannonfire. Men, and bits of men flew from the shelves, on fire, and in pieces. Hundreds were killed in the first few seconds. Thousands more were traumatised for life and would remember that day in their nightmares until the very end.

For many others, the end was near.

The Battle of Bookshelfville had begun.

The fate of a house hung in the balance...

[BlckWyerve]

I'm getting the hang of this. Somewhat. :p

From the cover of a burned-out book, Augustus watched the Green's assault on Bookshelfville with intensity. If that position falls, what's to stop the Green bastards from taking over the whole room? He ducked down as more attack helicopters flew overhead towards the carnage. The Tan garrison would never hold out against such an onslaught. He had to somehow stop the Green tanks and link up with his own routed armor column. It was their only chance. Slowly, he crawled out from his hiding place and out into the ruins.

The odor of burning plastic invaded his nostrils as he moved about the devastation, looking for anything that could be used. As he rounded a melted Tan tank, Augustus spotted the prone form of his …former gunner and, by his side, an assault rifle.

“Thank the gods. Now I can get the hell out of here.”

As he raced over to pick it up, crimson beams lanced out past his head. He dove forward and used his comrade as cover. A wounded Green Guardsman had taken up position behind a disabled artillery piece and was firing wildly at Augustus.

“By the Emperor’s will, you shall be smited!”

“Smite this, you over-rated pewter bastard.”

Augustus moved into a firing position and let loose a hail of bullets at the Guardsman. One found it’s mark and the interloper collapsed with a groan.

“Heh, I still got it.”

He picked himself up off the floor and began jogging in the direction of the armor cat-and-mouse game, the assault on Bookshelfville to his back.

* * *

"Fire! Fire!"

The tank's 120mm cannon roared in response and another Green tank was reduced to smoking slag. Sergeant Evans could hear assault rifle rounds pinging off the hull of his armored behemoth and his own gunner's 50. cal retuning the favor. The Green convoy was less unprepared than their commander had thought, and they had paid the price. Then they were on a run for their lives, failing to outpace their Green pursuers. Now they had to fight, or die. The tank rocked as an explosive shell hit just shy of the front, blanketing the vehicle in fire. Evans cursed loudly.

"Keep moving! Goddamnit, you're gonna get us blown to hell an' back!"

"I'm doing the best I can!"

"Yeah? Well your best ****ing sucks!"

Another roar left the tank's gun and ripped apart a wounded Green vehicle. Beside Evan, a Tan tank expolded as the crew stuggled to flee from the hatch. Their pieces thudded against the side of his own war machine.

This is madness. We're never gonna get out of this alive.

As if to drive the point home, at that moment, Sergeant Evans, his crew, and his tank ceased to be in a ball of flame.

[Statalyzer]

Jensen slowly made his way up the stairs to the 1st floor of the house. Going up starcases was a pain and most vehicles couldn't traverse it. Sure, there were ways of getting up without jumping and pulling himself up each one, but he had too much on his mind, and had spent too much time lately sitting down doing nothing.

The barracks in the first floor bathroom was about the safest location on Tan's entire 1st floor besides the two stairs down to the basement, which were obviously heavily guarded since the basement was the center of Tan operations. It was attached only to the spare bedroom an a rarely-used closet, so there was little human intervention unless one of the kids was using the toilet, and it wasn't near any staircase to the second floor. Also, only the kids used that bathroom, so if one of the plastic men had to drop to the floor to appear as a lifeless object when a human came in or out, there were no worries about being picked up by a nosey adult and put in the toy bin. Escaping from there was difficult with toy airplanes and yo-yos and duplo blocks pressing in. He knew from firsthand experience.

Jensen wondered what this new powerful weapon system was that the researchers in the cabinet beneath the sink were up to, and why he was assigned to it. He was a recon man, not a scientist. Various theories ran through his mind. Maybe it was some sort of explosive that needed to be snuck into Green terroritory, and his recon battalion was the quick, stealthy sort to do it? Maybe Matilla was already taking care of scouting, and his group was being reassigned?

*************************

Alya Oazrk and her 12 fellow mortar operators were asleep atop the large 1st floor mesa known as Parlor Table. Their six mortars were situated so as to easily be able to fire through the wall opening into the living room or kitchen, or down the opposite hallway. And the kids used Parlor Table as a game room, so a plastic mortar battery wasn't anything suspicious.

They were all awakened by the Lt. Colonel in charge of the artillery. Green had attacked and was a couple of rooms away, down the hall. The various shouts rang out across the tabletop :"Prepare for possible assault, defensive plan Beta" .... "Set up your guns, soliders, on the double" .... "Maximize that field of fire." .... "Why the hell do we not have any mines available for that hallway opening?" Alya felt tense on the eve of her first battle. All 5 other gunners and 4 of the 6 loaders had been through these wars before and nothing would really phase them. She'd rather have started out fighting on the offensive with some initiative instead of having to wait for a force to charge at them.

[Desolator12]

"Hvold" Seargeant Rupert said, holding his arm up in typical fashion. They had been marching through the walls of the house, using pipes and other handholds to move... they appeared behind a large, cushioned mountain: the sofa. after marching a while around it, Rupert saw something through his plastoculars. "Enemy emplacement... tvable-top...vevy empresseve... order ze troopz to azzemble ze LRC... ve'll give zem tan dogs a vun vor zere moldz..."

Several green troops began to take pieces out of their sachels, until eventually they assembled what appeared to be a small model-rocket launch pad, the legs were telescopic, so they could aim the cannon, and there was a length of pipe through which one could look to see the place which would be under bombardment.

"Breng up ze ordenance" Rupert ordered, as a chain began, bringing various supplies from the mousehole in the wall.

[Wesforce]

'Incoming!'

Timberlake and every Green Soldier in earshot threw themselves to the floor in well-drilled motion. However, as two unlucky guardsmen found out, when your number's up, your number is UP.

The shell hit the back of a jeep, right next to the two guardsmen. The shatter wreck of the vehicle was lifted bodily high int the air as its tank exploded - The first guardsman got a crankshaft through his head. The second had his legs covered in burning petrol.

Sergeant Pitt and two other green soldiers tore open the pack to a Handi-Wipe (tm) - The lemon-scented hand tissues proved invaluable for treating burning soldiers, and they smelled nice too. They got the flames out in moments.

Timberlake came over to inspect the scene.

'Is... Is the Emperor pleased with us?' Stammered the young guardsman, through pleading, blue tearful eyes.

'Yeah... Sure kid. Whatever.' Timblerlake drew his .45 in one fluid motion and blasted the Guardsman's brains out.

Everyone was looking at him.

'Whaaat?'

'He would have lived, you know.' Said Pitt. 'It was only superficial damage.'

'And that,' Said Timberlake smugly, 'Is why you'll never be an Officer, Sergeant Pitt. Affleck! Situation report!'

'Sir! Green forces have reached the third shelf, ergo there stands an likely outcome of minimal casualties upon the remainder of combat assets allied to our cause. However Tan forces have invested the position heavily with SAMs. Concurrently there have been no vertical air-vehicle losses at this present moment but this situation reflects negatively upon an increasing probability of disaster.'

'What did he say?'

'He said there are a bunch of Tan pussies up there that need to be fragged, but they also have assholes.' Said Timberlake. 'Everyone, lock and load!'

Pitt was about to say something, but thought better of it.

[masterblaster]

ignore this

[ImageKlonoa]

((damn double post..guess ill stick my whiney bit here...))
((MB, get your profile squared away before you even think about posting in the game thread. Your posts will be ignored until then.))
((And when you do, a smidge more detail and improved punctuation will be appreciated. More like required.))

[ImageKlonoa]

Thompson and some other generals are standing around a matchbox, a crude crayon drawing straight from the high commander himself draped over it. All of them were scanning over it, finding their places and routes across the limp sheet of printer paper.

"So…in essence," Thompson finally concluded, "we are all defending our Project E-Maxx while we shove up it up Green's narrow hide." they all agreed to it, amidst all the strange looks on the other general's faces at that last line. "He has also ordered me to coordinate our little rolling blackout as I like to call it, so let get this over with," Thompson added.

“Aircraft General Sheppard!”

“Sir!”

"Your forces will be responsible for air support exclusively for our E-Maxx unit. If something’s going on that doesn’t concern it, I don’t want to hear about it."

“Acknowledged.” Sheppard confirms, then turns and leaves the toolbox.

“Special Operations General Grace!”

“Whaddya got?”

“Your home base is now assigned to the E-Maxx unit itself. It has all the gear, supplies, and firepower you'll ever need, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Get the word out to your recon divisions too, so they won’t be running back here all puppy-eyed, crying over where they’re mom is."

“Heh, on it, Thompson.” Grace lets out a little chuckle, and then leaves as well.

“As for the rest of my fellow generals," Thompson announces, arms outstretched, "You'll have your standard routine, but I'll call you back once the Greens realize we have a new toy."

Thompson walks back to his desk and sits down in his familiar pose. "I want their surrender notice by nightfall," he jokes. "You're all free to go now. Get your men out there to kick some butt now, ya hear?"

A mix of many conversation-ending words, some fading murmurs, and then a door closing shut. Silence again.

[VO]

Whup Whup Whup.

It is hot. Too hot. The heat sucks up a haze from the rivulet that drips from the tip of the hosepipe curled by the door, a delta of slowly boiling in the light of a refocused sun. Green men tread through the dirt of flower pots, smear it into their faces to remain hidden in the leaves and the trailing strings of tomatoes that litter the warzone.

Whup Whup Whup

It is weeks before and the war is still fought. The tit-for-tat offensive is stalled in the jungles of the green house. Gillkore shields his eyes from the glare of the sun and holds the moulded plastic binoculars, scans the edge of the bench opposite which is enemy territory. Tan men and scarred plastic dinosaurs and the bastard-traitorous-son-of-a-slitch Sylvanians that have taken the side of the hated enemy move furtively through the shrubs in the shade of the wall.

Whup Whup Whup

Gillkore has lost three men to the heat today, pinned down under enemy fire on the delta warzone before them in a patch of bright sunlight which has slowly melted them into the floor. There is the acrid stink of melted plastic in the air; from his command tent of folded napkins behind the shelter of a beat-up old radio Gillkore can still smell them, their charred corpses left slick in the sun. The tans hold the cool ground. They wage a guerrilla war through the fronds and ferns and potted seedlings, hold back each green thrust in a running battle of traps and ambushes. Firecrackers buried in the dirt that claim a toll of green lives with each push. The frontline is liquid. It waxes and wanes. And still Gillkore's men cannot take the cool ground.

Whup Whup Whup

Flying Screws. Gillkore has masterminded the plan. It is solid. Contraptions of paper and elastic that are wound by teams of men behind the potted plants and secured into position. Crews of native toys drafted in help gear the crews, brave soldiers take up their harnesses as they are strapped into place with thread salvaged from parachutes and a great reel of the stuff smuggled in from some other warzone. Zippo lighters, stolen from some secret parental stash are fixed into the devices, geared for the assault.

Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup

"Go Go Go!"

The screws are wound tight and released, spiralling soldiers into the heat haze that lies above the potplants. Across the delta, spinning low in the rattle of gunfire as the enemy realise what's planned. Green men drop out of the sky like gassed flies, paper rotors ripped away or steering misaligned so they are sent spiralling into the glass walls that surround them. Zippo fuel is emptied over the enemy lines, the air cavalry torching the heavily fortified shore and native villiages alike. Tan grunts scream and die in droves, and as more greens pile in they to are melted to a soup of mixing colours in the blazing trenches. Gillkore watches from his binoculars. He loves the smell of lighter fuel in the morning. The radio is tuned to the Classical Station; it plays the Ride of the Valkyries on crackling speakers as the Green forces take the beachhead.

Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup Whup...

Gillkore snapped straight. If he could, sweat would haved poured down his face and drenched his moulded uniform. His plastic heart would have beat fast. He was going back to the front.

[Statalyzer]

The Tan officer in charge on Parlour Table on confidently scanned the approaching forces through his binoculars, just out of range at the edge of the hallway. They had prepared for this assault for so long, with so many traps. The cocky Green vandals would be crushed by unexpected fire and obstacles from all sides.

The recon officer next to him was less confident as he saw the assembly of a rocket launcher. "Look at this, sir" he exclaimed "only Rupert Higglesquiznebbizensobben has ordinance like that. We don't have anything with that range and he can hit us from there without moving any farther forward!"

"Calm yourself. He can only do so much damage before his troops will have to attack, at which point our traps will make short work of them. I don't care for his reputation as the best artillery commander in this house, you understand!" - at this his voice began to crescendo and he turned to face his troops - "To be the best army, you must beat the best the enemy has, and that's what we will do! Fight for Tan, fight for victory, fight for your friend and family and your great plastic nation!"

Cheers went up from the defenders of the tabletop as the Green rocket wheeled into postion.

********************************************

Col. Jensen had arrived at the barracks in the bathroom cabinet. His bewilderment had turned to excitement. It was rather an honor to be assigned to their most secret weapons system. Perhaps a good performance here would mean a promotion. The only thing better than that would be watching this secret weapon wreck havoc among the Green bastards. "Those sons of bitches are going to regret starting this damn war." he muttered under his breath, as he suddenly realized nobody seemed to be running the place.

He turned to a nearby private who was innocently walking by "Who the hell's in charge in here? Thompson sent me down on assignment and this place looks like a disorganized rabble!"

[Desolator12]

"Ve ahhr vethen range?" Rupers Von Higginsquiggin asked, though it was rhetorical... his rocket-propelled ordinance would make a fine smolder of the damned tan dogs. "How much ordenance do ve have, corporal?"

"About twenty normal rounds, five high-impact M80 clusters, and ten of this one type you had specially made... the Mold knows what it is" Rupert chuckled at this last comment... he himself was not very religious, but if the tan dogs weren't as well, they soon would be.

"Uhm...sir... they've got thousands of anti-personell and tank traps out there... not including their ordinance... we won't have enough for a sustained assault...and our troops will get massacred."

"Eye know daht, prevat. Eye planed vor thees vor a long teme... eim ver der troopz... ve vill take zere peteful ordenanz unt aed eet to ze posesseonz ahf ze glorioz Green Armee!"

The troops looked at Rupert... they did trust him...but had he finally gone mad?

[ImageKlonoa]

Back at the tan base, all of the soldiers assigned to this new project were generally lounging aorund, telling war stories of long ago, the usual things that fellow comrades did. Then they all turned toward the sound coming from the closet. It drowned out any conversations they were having.

The closet door boomed and rumbled at every impact, then finally unlocked and swung open slowly before being forced wide open by this huge mechanical beast on wheels.

Project E-Maxx was alive.

It rode on four giant tires, at least 3 stories high each, and the whole thing took up the space of at least 2 command centers. even higher up were great antenna that reached to the skies..and a cannon..just as big as the unit itself. The whole thing was covered in a hard lexan sheel which could stop essentially any plastic-based weaponry.

This was one mean piece of firepower.

A couple soldiers hopped out the E-Maxx, already doung their assigned routines, Thompson climbed down from the radio transmitted and stood defiantly at the base of it, a clear high view of the people below.

"Gentlemen! I bring you this!" He shouted. Everyone cheered at that line, while Thompson did those presentation gestures with his arms and hands.

"THIS...Is what will take down the entire Green army singlehandedly! And YOU..YOU are the lucky ones who wil form the spearhead of this attack!" So come aboard, and ride the wave of victory!" Thompson announced, followed by the Tan salute. Everyone else follows suit. "Alright then. We're open for business. Ask for our engineers just in case you get lost."

Through the crowding around and inside the new weapon, Thompson finds Jensen in the foray.

"Recon Colonel Jensen!" Thompson calls.

"Yes Sir!" he replies. his face lights up and his voice shoots up a couple octaves. Thompson could tell he was a bit nervous.

"Dont be scared, son, I have great news." Thompson said. Jensen could feel that nervous lump in his throat already. "You're gonna be the designated driver." He points up to a place high on top of the E-Maxx, right next to were the cannon was mounted.

"I also haven't saved a dime on car insurance, so make sure this thing is back in one piece once the war is over, eh? Oh yeah, and DO NOT let those green bastards get their slimy little hands on it!" Thompson made his point clear on that.

But anyway, have fun out there kicking ass. Happy hunting, and god-speed." Thompson pats him on the back, then walks back to base, as Jensen is escorted away for a crash course in driving the big "mutha-trucka" (it picked up a nickname already)

After a couple of minutes of jerky starts, banging against the walls, and nearly running over fellow infantrymen, Jensen and the E-Maxx were ready to set off. Thompson let a tear roll down from his eye as he watched his prized project whine and hum its way up the basement stairs.

[Desolator12]

"Vat vas daht noese?" Rupert said...

"Bah... noh mattah... vire ze ordenanz! Eye vant skwatz von threew vive ready toe taek ahn ze tahn invantree..."

"Sir? Why now? They still have all of their defence..." the scream of several tan infantry was heard just above the sound of the first of the ordenance. "...well...most of it. Besides, how the hell are we going to get up there?!"

"Ze zame vay dah ordananz gits dere..."

[Statalyzer]

"Alton, I've been reassigned to drive a rather badass vehicle, you're in command temporarily as soon as you take the men down here and report to Thompson."

"You have, huh?" replied Alton, able to conceal his smile over the radio.

"Yep, I'm priviledged to be in the best fighting machine we've ever created; I guess somebody remembered my exploit back in the last war when I was a Searant with group Maxwell and that rescue job we pulled off. This is the best damn news I've heard all year."

"That's excellent, sir." said the tan-colored plastic solider, who in truth knew all about the E-Maxx assignment already, "But I won't need to be taking the men down there."

"And why not?" wondered Jensen, surprised at the hint of rebelliousness in his comrade's voice.

"Thompson told us we're going with you. The men are meeting you in a couple of plastic armored cars and lego jeeps. We're already up ahead of you waiting. I'm getting on board with you to operate the forward machine gun and be your navigator."

Jensen's plastic jaw dropped open in shock, but his countenance quick turned to delight as he headed over to the groupp of small vehicles that marked their position. "You're coming in this thing along with me huh.....best damn news I've heard all year."

*******************************************

"Incoming!" came a shout from the table. Oazrk and and her comrades all around the mortars, AA guns, and howitzers jumped for cover behind their weapons, plates, napkin holders, flower vases, or whatever was nearby. "Dammit that's the biggest missile I've seen" she heard a soldier yell as the huge, looming rocket crashed on the tabletop near them. But it didn't explode. A few seconds passed by as the Tan troops cautiously resumed their posts. "Those green bastards can't even construct a proper weapon" said the commander of the mortar battery. A split second later he was gone, along with at least 30 other Tan soliders, in a belated explosion. Ruprert von Higgensquiggen was more clever than they had thought.

Oazrk was one of the lucky ones, the ones who were still left to learn from the experience. The next two rocket that came, everyone kept hidden till after the explosion, 10 seconds after it hit each time. Mixed with the normal explosive and corrosive materials were bits of nails and screws the Green technicians had found in the attic. Two men nearby were decapitated by flying nails.

"At least those things are timed predictably." she muttered to herself as she picked up a shell. A few Green soldiers down below had strayed into range. "FIRE!" came the sound of the commander's voice. She started to hand the shell to the gunner, but he wasn't there. She caught sight him on the other end of the placemat, with a drill bit throught his stomache. "Guess I'm the loader and gunner now...." she thought to herself. The scouts at the tables edge called out range and position, and Oazrk and her compansions dropped their shells down the barrles. WHOOSH! The whole barrage let loose over the edge of the table, and they heard the screams of an enemy they couldn't even see. A Tan solider in a tank pushed a heavy glass jar off the table, which landed upsidedown and trapped several Green warriors inside as their comrades began retreating out of range.

"DUCK FOR COVER!" Another rocket was coming. Everyone hid and counted to 10 in theirs heads. Nothing. Something was different about this rocket; perhaps it was set for a longer period of time. Well, nobody was about to be fooled by that trick, and all the Tan defenders in the area remained prone and behind obstacles. They began to hear an odd noise from inside....