When the squad was ejected from the facility they were thrown down the hill with a sickly, watery, popping sound.
The bark on the trees illuminated as waves of sound pummeled the camp. The brutal orchestration of the sonic weapon was garish and out of touch.
He heard a scratching in his helmet. Either something trying to get in, or trying to get out.
Standing on the lip of the crevice, Wafnyr considered in great detail the multitude of ways he would slay the dark forces and become king.
The battleship was turned into a senior center for retired generals and admirals who constantly tried to take over and declare war.
The dripping never stopped and several of the men exacerbated the situation by constantly mimicking the sound.
At the end of The War the equipment needed a thorough scrubbing and a little bit of personal time.
The creatures swarmed and fought over the soldiers as they fell from the tree.
They grabbed it by the tail and were greeted with a shriek that cracked their face plates.
“It’s remarkable, they have a lifespan of centuries, but sleep for most of it.”
During the War the practice of raising carnivorous Coleoptera in special cases had been perfectly acceptable.
First casualties in the exchange were the LuggageBots, who had circled the cargo protectively.
Wafnyr, the leader of the group, grimaced and summarily executed his second in command.
At the start of the campaign the fresh faced space marines wondered if the fungus was intelligent. By the end they didn’t care.
When the collective hyper-rage finally ended they were sluggish, and confused by the empty buildings.