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Prologue: The nation of Hiigara has forgotten what it once was: a galactic power to be reckoned with. With their heritage forgotten and a new existence ahead, they didn't bother to learn about themselves. These people gradually built themselves up, back from scratch. And they seek to reclaim their right: The planet of Khay-Tar. The story of the Hiigaran Sentinels begins here, in Kudaarn.

(Nylund is purely a working name for the character)
Kudaarn Drop


Chapter 1: The Drop
The Sajuuk and Makaan floated above the Tiidani world, the Marine detachment onboard filing into their individual drop pods to be jettisoned to the surface, Master Sergeant Nylund among them. He strode into the pod and secured himself with the belt.
“Division 1,” a voice came over the intercom, then paused, ”Drop” The artificial gravity was lost as the pod fell from the flagship into the planet’s gravity well. Looking to his flanks, he could barely make out thousands of other pods streaking to the surface of the Tidanii planet for their assault. Re-entry was, as always, difficult. Flames licked at the hull of the pod and internal temperature slowly rose. The gray hull turned to a molten red as it was thrown closer still toward the planets surface, rumbling and shaking the whole way. Once the shaking mostly stopped, the altimeter read 43.5 thousand feet. At this exact point, a division’s worth or drop pods activated their personal cloaking devices and thermal signature screens, a massive glitch in the Tidanii radar network.
“Funny, ain’t it?” Gunnery Sergeant Arzt said through cross-com on the drop pod.
Nylund depressed the button on his seat and spoke to the air,
“What’s funny, Arzt?” He said, looking to his right, where the gunny’s drop pod was, streaking across the sky somewhere.
“Division 2…Drop” The person must have been on FLEETCOM. The whole HPMC (Hiigaran Planetary Marine Corps) could hear him.
“The calm during these drops, right before we make surface contact and the clusterf**k begins, it’s the most at peace you can ever be.” Nylund shared these feelings sometimes; the thought of imminent death did wonders to calm a grizzled veteran’s soul.
Altimeters flashed, warning lights blazed red, and manual controls rose from the smooth panels. Soldiers grabbed the flight control yokes and guided the maneuverable pods into tight formations; squads banded together and angled the craft toward their designated drop zones. Nylund formed up with the rest of Sigma Squad and pointed the pods directly toward a glass-ceiling building, probably a museum or greenhouse. With only 7,000 feet between him and the ground, he activated his reverse thrusters and drag flaps. The drop pods speed decreased dramatically and Nylund was thrown forward by the sudden drop in speed. At 100 feet, the drag flaps peeled off and the pods crashed through the flimsy glass ceiling covering the building. Large panes shattered into millions of tiny shards by seemingly nothing at all by the now scared civilians.
“Sigma squad has made surface contact, waiting on your mark.” Nylund spoke into the COM again.
“Roger that, Sigma. Engage. Weapons are free.” Nylund’s A.I., Deja relayed to him.
“Sigma squad, going out!” Nylund said on FLEETCOM before depressing the release button on the control console. The door was thrown off the pod and Nylund stepped out with his Diverian MK.2 Assault Rifle at his shoulder, the safety off. Civilians scattered and air raid sirens began to go off. The noises were soon squelched, however, as Theta squad, their espionage agents, sabotaged the power grids. Lights everywhere went out, until only the twilight sun illuminated the streets, along with staccatos of gunfire from building-to building firefights.
Nylund had the men form up, and they slinked down the streets, keeping close to the walls before converging on a building where radio chatter indicated some enemy militia had set up a light machine-gun. Nylund nodded toward Corporal Veritas, who aimed a breaching shotgun at the panel locking mechanism. With a dull thud from the 8-guage, the panel was fried and the doors slid open. The squad filed inside, covering flanks and clearing rooms as Nylund and Veritas moved upward. The two soldiers slid fiber wire out of their thigh holster compartments and pulled the nylon cables tight, wrapping ends around their hands. The soldiers came up behind the gunner and pulled the taught ropes around both his neck and his reloader’s. When Nylund no longer felt a pulse and the body stopped flailing, he set the soldiers down and motioned to move forward through the next building through the walkway. The soldiers took out their rifles and crouched down, moving onto the walkway and chancing a look out the small windows, down onto the streets where small firefights were going on, usually ending in the death of a few Tidaani. Nylund stopped for a second and clicked off the all clear using the status light, flashing it three times on his men’s HUDs. There was a clicking of boots as the men filed up the stairs and re-cleared the rooms Nylund and Veritas had already gone through before moving behind the two men and tapping them on the shoulder.
“We’re moving on this building, taking out the recoilless rifles so our LRVs can get through, and we can pound city hall.” The men nodded. “The LRVs can give us a ride toward city hall, but all the fire is going to be concentrated on us. The men acknowledged what he said and Nylund stood upright.
“Move” Nylund instructed, and the men surged forward into the next room. Small rifle bursts rang out some gurgling sounds as a Tidaani was struck in the next and fell to the ground with a pool of blood gathering around his body. The men kept moving and a green light burned on his display. He nodded toward Veritas and the two men continued to move as radio chatter showed good progress.
“Sir, we’re at the guns, just tell us when.” As the private reported in, their IFF tags appeared on his HUD and he looked to see just how far away they were. “Sigma…” a voice came through on the radio, “Be –vised….-or….-vicinity” the garbled transmission informed him.
“What?” he asked?
“SIGMA, BE ADVISED, ARMORED VEHICLE IN YOUR VICINITY!” Just then, a large rumble rang out, a wall collapsed, and screams were heard over the COMs. Three of his squad’s tags went dark, and biometric meters flat lined. One man’s signal disappeared entirely. Nylund swore before regaining his cool. He pulled up a roster to see who had the MPAR in the squad.
“Jenkins,” Nylund said into the COM. “Hit that tank.”
“Roger that.” A PFC said before his tag flashed from blue to amber, signaling an imminent fire.
“Missile Away.” The PFC informed Nylund. A look out the windows and he saw an ark of gray smoke fly toward the tank, then, in a fraction of an instant, there was no more turret. All movement in the armor stopped, and Jenkins reported in.
“Sir, armor has been neutralized.” Nylund again pulled up his roster and checked off his three dead men: Garland, McCullis, and Braeburn.
“Roger that, Jenkins. Gather up the dead and move them to our drop zone with a signal beacon and deploy a stealth field around them”
“Can do, sir” There was a grunt as he and a couple other men hefted the corpses, then walked by Nylund as they moved toward the greenhouse they had landed in. Nylund checked how many people he still had: four men, a fire team. Three dead and three protecting the dead. As Veritas and Nylund moved toward the recoilless rifles, Nylund unwound a piece of det-cord from around his forearm and applied a coating of foam explosives around it, for that extra little bit. He took the cord, wrapped it around the barrel and loading mechanism of the rifle, and had his squad go back into the street, jumping down the small pile of rubble leftover from when the Tidaani knocked down the wall of a building to get a clear shot with the gun. The men dropped into the streets and made sure there were no Tidaani around as Nylund attached the detonator and dropped into the street as well.
“Fire in the hole.” He said as he flipped up the safety cover of the detonator and depressed the red button. There was a small thump and the explosives went off, and the rifle was no more than a memory.
“Wolfbite, you’re free to bring in the buggies.” Nylund informed the other platoon, who was in charge of the safe transport of the Hiigaran ground assets.
“Roger that, Sigma, Wolfbite inbound on your position.” The COM channel was switched off and Nylund’s team waited for both the Lynx buggies, and some sign of Tidaani reinforcements. Something just was not right about the miniscule troop concentration in the city. There was a clicking of keys as Veritas input their sitrep and the Lynx rolled into sight toward the buildings.
There was a screeching of tires as the buggies rolled to a halt and small troop compartments opened up on the sides, two men to each compartment.
“Where’s your complement, Sigma?” asked a Lynx driver as Nylund walked by the driver’s seat of the buggy.
“Guarding the dead,” Nylund quickly replied as he climbed into the bay next to Veritas and the hatch silently slid itself shut, sealing with a hiss and the buggy then lurched forward as it continued in the blitz on city hall.
Gunfire was hushed behind the metal plating and the buggy’s loud engine drowned out all thought. Nylund looked to Veritas, who kept a stone stare at the door. Nylund respected the man’s privacy, so he just referred to the small console on his forearm, where the A.I Deja was contained.
“Deja, pull up a map, please.” Nylund said to the computer.
“Certainly,” she said, a small hologram appeared of her and the small space glowed a cool blue with the A.I’s body. She pulled up the global map, data streams of crimson ran through her body as she went through the frustrating authorized channels. Eventually, though, a holographic map of the city appeared in front of him. Deja also took care to show him both their current position as well as the location of city hall.
Nylund smirked just as the first shell hit.














































Chapter 2: Boo-Koo Hostiles

The 120mm artillery shells pummeled the streets and Nylund swore as the buggy shook violently for the 12th time. He looked over to Veritas who had fallen asleep and smirked a bit before shaking him awake.
“Constant beat of shells is soothing, sir.” Veritas said as he regained consciousness and the buggy rolled to a halt.
“City hall, Nylund. GO!” The driver yelled into the radio as the compartments slid open to reveal a shattered city, buildings riddled with holes and artillery shaking buildings apart. Destroyed Beauty, some might say.
Steven stepped out of the Lynx as it began rolling away to another hotspot in the city, and his fireteam bypassed the obvious command, took positions on the edges of the street, and began moving toward city hall, Nylund leading the way. He peeked out of his cover, currently a wall, and saw the advancing Tidaani Battalion, who broke fire discipline to hit the soldier. He blinked as a reflex as each bullet cracked on the wall of zinged past his head, every time they opened reminded him he was still alive. Nylund sank back into cover and primed a round into the Diverian, a satisfying click sounded as the round fed into the chamber. Keeping his index finger extended across the trigger guard, though, and he melted into the building, semi-active camouflage on his suit diverted to match the eggshell color of the wall and he peeked out of his new vantage point. He took another length of det chord from around his forearm. He had drawn another length from his pack. He tapped Veritas for a second can of C-12 and gripped the small can. He sprayed the cord and attached the explosives which began to harden to a shell around the cord, and Nylund inserted a detonator just before it became rock solid. He tossed out the cord and the advancing men stopped to eye the anomaly. A soldier grabbed it as per orders and slid it into his rigging before bringing it back to his C.O. to be inspected. Nylund counted his blessings that these guys knew nothing about the Hiigaran technology. As the device switched hands to the C.O. Nylund flipped the switch and pressed the red button again, a large, un-muffled blast and a spray of blood were the only evidence that Nylund could see of the blast. As the men were thrown into disarray, Nylund moved through the buildings to inspect his handiwork. The C-12 had coupled for a perfect explosion with the det cord, the C.O and the LAV next to him were nothing more than a bad memory, and quite a few men were also caught in the blast, men fired at non-existent shadows and Nylund chuckled a bit over COMs. For another bit of fun, he signaled for the men to apply their silencers. The squad all took the long metal tubes from their rigs and spun the onto the threading on the Diverian’s barrel, Nylund doing the same.
“Single shots only, go for center mass. Fire at will.” As he gave the order, there were a few puffs of smoke and an equal amount of puffs of blood as more men fell and more Tidaani fired in the confusion.
“Reloading,” Veritas said as he hit his mag release, and a magazine fell from the Diverian, making a clattering sound as it hit the concrete, but that wasn’t audible over the huge amount of gunfire. He slid another magazine into the well and pulled back the receiver, priming a new round into the rifle. The Corporal the returned to firing into the crowd of Tidaani as a few officers tried to regain cohesion in their troops, but weren’t doing such a good job at it.
“Come on,” Nylund said, tapping Veritas’s shoulder and moving farther away from the soldiers.
“Command, this is Sigma, I have enemy readings, and Deja is relaying them to you now.” Blue data streams passed over his forearm’s datapad as Deja informed the ground force advisor the information.
“Data received, thanks Nylund.” The advisor said into the COMs as he uploaded the information to the entirety of the shock troops on the ground.
“Sigma, this is Omikron team, we’ve hooked up with Delta, Beta, and Alpha, heading your way.” Arzt’s voice buzzed over the COMs.
“Roger that, Omikron, be advised, we are currently in the blown-out building due north-east of the Tidaani troop garrison.” Nylund answered into his headset as another artillery shell screamed through the air and collided with a residential complex, the first of a new barrage. Nylund’s teeth ground together as a shell hit a nearby street, stripping the concrete off the ground as it hit, leaving only a smoldering crater.
"Are the Sentinels planetside yet?" A voice flowed through Nylund's radio.
"Sir, yessir." another voice replied, and the giggles of Deja indicated he shouldn't have been listening to this. A fist struck the base of his neck and he fell to the ground unconscious.

Captain Jericho Antares pulled his prone comrades into the building nearby and tucked them into the corner, noticing a familiar name on one's BDUs: Nylund. He disregarded this and ran back across the street, an artillery shell impacted near him, but his genetically modified muscles took the shock and kept running. As he slowed to a trot and then altogether halting, he tried to count how many times these modifications had saved him. Enhanced vision, hearing, strength, bone density, a steadier hand, increased speed, everything he needed to dominate the battlefield. Antares looked over to his three-man team. Hayter, S'Jet, and Slavik. He pulled up his Heads Up Display (HUD) and checked where the Tidaani were. He looked up and in the enemy direction only to see a wall, perfect. He secured his rifle on his back and took out a high frequency blade from its sheath on his lower back, the blade thrummed with energy along the entire 6-inch blade. He made sure the other Sentinels had done the same before running straight at the wall, crashing through it, right into the center of the Tidaani formation. Antares stuck the blade in the back of a Tidaani, severing his spine in an instant before punching another in the face and then crouched down as Hayter burst from the hole. Hayter vaulted off Antares's back and landed in another group of troops, who fired, but watched as the rounds bounced off the Sentinel's armor. Hayter's goggles burned blue and he charged the men hand-to-hand. S'Jet and Slavik went on their own rampages and Antares stopped to see a line of tanks rounding the corner.
"Fall back!" Antares yelled. Each soldier dropped whatever weapon they were using and ran back into the building.
"I love this armor" Hayter said from a concealed part of the room, and Antares couldn't help but agree. Jet black with shin guards, forearm guards, a chestplate, backplate, and a power core on their back, all over nanofiber fatigues. On their heads, a durable black helmet, and a respirator for unstable environments, topped off with glowing blue goggles. They were half tank and half medieval knight.
"Lets just lay low until command finally gets us some commands." ANtares suggested before sitting on the cold floor.


(incomplete, but a good place to stop.)