The Track of the Pocket Miner
It is a good day to kill someone.
"That toad sucking miner is gonna die hard! Talk about nerve, puttin' us thru all dis." Asbeef Monkor said as he helped his brother Oerkjof into his armor.
"What you tink? He gonna invite us for dinner and den hand over his stash witout no fight?" Wutbipe Tic put on his helmet and laughed. "Ya! Dat be nice. Be very polite."
Oerkjof grinned evilly. "He gonna say - ' You boys is all so terrifiyin' I's just gonna give you my amcrys. I hope you all enjoy bein' rich.""
Wimdit pulled on his gauntlets, "You been smellin' your own farts for too long, Oerkjof. Your brains, they have rotted out."
"Wot me worry?" shouts Turel Bevlick. "I am an Eli of the aulde school raider! Tell the leetle enemies to bunch up, the beeg unz to line up, and lets rock!" The old Eli shouldered his Laser Rifle and rambled on. "Time for a strong ale and strong song, freely translated from the original high (and low too) Eli tongue and set to the tune of the ancient Eli warrior raiding song "I feel pretty! I feel pretty!"
I 'm a woosie! I 'm a woosie! I 'm a woosie in my Eli old age!
Done been there, done done that! And lived to a ripe Eli old age!
I 'm a woosie! I 'm a woosie! Lived to become an Eli sage!
Done been there, done done that! Before it was all the rage!
I'm a woosie! I'm a woosie! An Eli raider, of a fantastic age!
Done been there, done done that! Before you became of age!
Thank you comrades! Thank you! Drinks on the house, innkeeper! Triples for the grenadier! Doubles for the rest of the crew! 'Chow and wenches too! And do not forget to serve that Fabian sitting over there in the corner looking sly and sleazy! He is with us! He is like our braindead little brother! Mess with him , ya mess with us! And put the drinks and eats and wenching on his tab! He is rich!"
Zuvebee the Orphan polished away at the window with a towel. "How we gonna find dis miner? He got a whole planet to hide on."
"Finding him is not going to be a problem." The Fabian said to the whole group through their helmet com gear. "He has got some kind of beacon up. Its broadcasting a steady signal in the radio spectrum. The Nightmare is homing on it. Stand by, the Nightmare is scanning the terrain. Here comes the terrain map, now."
Turel Bevlik, his mighty brain straining with the complexities of trying to read the mapbox, turns to Honebead, and the others, saying, "Wotda! Aye cannot make da piture fing work! Is ayes da onny Eli raider here dat is sperry -ancing tek - nahl - cahl diffie , uh, umm, ah, crap! Troubles wiv dat map piture fing still?" Bevlik smacks the mapbox onto the mess tabletop two or three times, tries it again, no joy, and is about to open it up with his combat knife, when some one takes it away from him. Noble brow furrowed in deep thought, Bevlik suspects another sly Fabian trick..
Baaaaa - raaaat! Another greenish cloud of digestive gas is added to the already thick atmosphere as he concentrates on what all of this means.
"Let's dig um out!" said Hitsead Slith brandishing his disintegrator.
"Gods awf space!" In the back of the bus, Turel Bevlick rattles on "Turel Bevlick, well, he is a real Eli raider. He tain't no damn Tattoo-ie dirt worm! Gods awf space! My head do hurt from tinkin sooo hard! "
Zuvebee The Orphan Fights down the remains of some partially digested beans while his pallor takes on a delightful shade of green. "Lets just land anywhere", he wails "then think about killing things! Personally I've watched those old 2-D films and the guys making those glamorous frontal assaults all looked very young like you maybe didn't get old doing that. But I DO NOT WANT TO BURROW THROUGH THE EARTH LIKE A WORM!!! I say we land out of sight and surround the sucker 'en den move in cautiously."
"Da kid has it right! Tell Fabio Bronstik to take us down! We can sort out awl da killin' oncet we is onna da ground!" Pausing only long enough to pass a green cloud, the ancient , pot bellied, Eli raider starts gearing up for the fight! As he prepares, his melodious baritone echoes off the bulkheads of the disco bus as he sings an aulde Eli raider song: "Here we go! Here we go! Here we go!" Bevlick still thinks evil thoughts about the fate of the sly Fabio Bronstik.
"Barjhel! Why is you lettin dese slime devils make all da plans jes becuz dey is smarter dan you? You is an Eli Warrior, and you is bigger dan dem!"
The Xrit squints suspiciously at his new helmet settings. "Wot is all dis stuff? Can I sees critters and mines like dis? Hey! Is dat a blowup pitcher of da guy? I don' like the looks of da snouty ting on dere. Whataya youse guys think that is? Looks awful big ta not be military." "Turel! Where you get dat knife? [in Eli: if that turret gun is as bad as it looks, I may need to borrow that, my friend] I needs to get me one a dose. Any of youse guys find a Flare Gun yet?"
"Why didn't you just ask," The Fabian says with ill disguised disdain, "There's a flare gun in the emergency supply box!" He impatiently jabbed his finger toward a large orange box labeled EMERGENCY ONLY.
Wimdit ripped the box open spilling canned water, Band-Aids, hard biscuits and hemorrhoid ointment all over the floor. He grabbed a huge mutlitbarrel, multicolor flare shooter from the box. "Dis is whot I calls a Flare!"
There is a hideious sucking sound as Asbeef Monkor clears his oversised nasel passages. "Me 'um me brodder wants ta pop dat miner's track widt a nice AT round. He hawked a big gob into the corner.
"Yah," drooled Oerkjof, the lower half of his helmet open so he can retieve his index finger, which has dissapeared up to the second joint in his nose. "Me 'un Asbeef want Cold Moutain area. Look like fine place do indect fiha. "
"Asbeef! Shuddafug Up! Youse talkin' onda open comm! And you is stayin' in here 'til I tells you you go." "Fabian, I wants you to takes us over C-3; when we gets there, Barjhel, Honebead, Zuvabee and Tuibb is bailin' out with the screens up. Youse got a screen big enough to stops anyting smaller dan a Laser Cannon; an iffin he gots one o dose, I'm shootin' you mysef". Wimdit brandished his laser pistol.
"Boys, you works yourself up da hill; don fly iffen you don hafta. Da Fabian is gonna be lookin for mines an critters an such, but spread out anyways. Affer dat, we flies along de west edge of de board, turning SE at K-1. We flies as low as you tinks you can go, Fabe.
Drich, iffen you wants ta bail out anywheres behind dose patches of forest, das OK. Iffen you wants ta land wit us, dats OK too. Takes Wutbipe witcha, doe; he been awful quiet.
Den we swoops in behind Liver Ridge, and da rest of us piles out around T-19; we don't gotta wait til we land, just til we's low enuff to be behind da hill. From dere, Asbeef an Oerkjof goes to da intersection of Q,R/15,16 an lines up da tent wit a frag round. Drich, iffin youse still in da boat, youse work your way to a good firing spot between da launcher and our amcrys. Iffen alla youse is to big a pussies to go in da hole wit Hitsead, I'll do it myself.
Turel, you haul your fat ass to P-17 an see if dat is a good place for us to start, den maybe try an get a little closer F-17 is probably good but remember he is prolly gots a sensor.
We tries da sneaky way foist; I is not countin on no Fabo tellin me what's what. Iffen dey open up on me an Hisead, Honebead, you gives em da full clip o AP's, an Asbeef, you give em da big one. Iffen dey GETS us, ya still got da smoke for a charge. We tries to all get LOS at da same time; say five minutes." The Xrit turned back to the Fabian.
"An quit your whinin Fabo; its a good day to die."
The Fabian's only response was to punch up his music cube. He turned back to his piloting with an evil grin as the sounds of "The Green Berets" echoed through the fart stained air of the little errant school bus.
(Find out more about the Disco Nightmare) (Read the stats for the Eli warriors) (See the map for the game.)
For questions concerning this webgame contact John McEwan at john@tin-soldier.com
Return to Starguard! home page.