"The Xenos are to settle this immediately, through an honorable rifle duel."
+1 to the concept at least, but maybe have our psyker try to send a psychic message to the one with the auto gun saying something along the lines of we prefer to deal with the strong and right now you have the tool to prove your strength.
+1 long arms only.
Giving them time has the potential for unforeseen consequences. This is a matter of disagreement, and they are a nuclear civilization, and warships over their heads turns up the pressure. We don't want to let them make the decision in a manner which results in them blowing themselves up.
Rifles. Duel.
+1 to the rifle duel then.
"Giving the Xenos time to bicker could risk the well-being of our acquisition. We've already confirmed their access to atomics and as we've been shown time and again, Xenos lack the restraint of mankind. They are to settle this immediately, through trial-by-combat." The Prognosticator breathes into the vox.
"Appropriate. By what means?" You've already decided.
"By rifle. They'll have five minutes to select a champion between themselves. May the better abomination prevail." The Prognosticator raises his voice, amplifying it to respond to the amassed Xenos. More vile sound comes from the debasement of his human tongue, but almost immediately, the tension of their argument stops and is replaced with a twitching, trembling excitement. Their leaders scramble into two loose groups and move quickly. In less than two minutes they've determined a true representative, to be tested in combat. You note that rather than choose the one with the largest size or steadiest hooks, they select the leader with the shiniest shell in both cases. Each takes a rifle from their nearby bodyguard and spring to the furthest extent away that they can. Each racks the bolt to check it's been loaded and on confirmation, aim and open fire without hesitation. You notice that they rest the barrel on one of their hooks to steady it, while two others manipulate the weapon itself. Their hooks are unexpectedly dextrous and precise, though crude and clumsy before the majesty of the human hand.
The Pro-Protectorate champion gets a shot off first, the recoil nearly flinging the rifle from his grasp.
*BOOOOOOOOM* Its lead shot flies across the field in moments, cracking its opponent's shell, but they are unphased and take more time to "shoulder" their weapon. The Pro-Assimilation champion angles the barrel and fires twice in rapid succession,
*BOOOOOOOOM* -it racks the bolt-
*BOOOOOOOOOM* The first wings its opponent's shell, inflicting only minimal damage, but the second bores a hole through the supporting hook, snapping it in half so that it hangs, limp and useless, by but a single gory strand. Their blood is a vivid shade of turqoise. The loss of the appendage, rather than shock the Xenos into inaccuracy, only causes a brief squeal as it adjusts to a fourth. It fires
*BOOOOOOOOM* and scores the shell in the same location as the first, deepening the crack, and this slows the other as they turn to present their undamaged side, free-hooking a shot at the same time.
*BOOOOOOOOOM* This strikes the other in the center mass, ripping apart the central tendons keeping three hooks attached. It snarls, audible over the field, and its remaining side operates the rifle, firing again
*BOOOOOOOOM* and inflicting a devastating hit into the Xenos' core, rending its maw apart and mangling their core. Yet the Xenos' hooks are intact and it fails to react to the mortal trauma as appropriate, aiming and shooting-
*BOOOOOOOOOM* -blowing through the joints of two hooks at once. Only when it realizes its inability to continue aiming does the Pro-Protectorate Xenos screech, and this sounds to you to be more anger than despair. It moves its spinneret, crudely gripping the rifle that's dropped onto the wet earth, and forces it over the last remaining hook just in time to-
*BOOOOOOOOM* -go limp and wail as its final limb is ruined beyond repair. The Pro-Assimilation Xenos is no longer capable of speech and vital fluids are seeping out at a terrible speed, but it raises the rifle to the skies and fires, making an inarticulate keening sound in triumph.
*BOOOOOOOOOM* "IIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"You suppose that the Pro-Assimilation side have won, and there is remarkably little controversy in the Pro-Protectorate losers. Even less respect for their fallen, as they leave the failure to sit, trembling in anguish. The Xenos start to discharge their rifles at the sky and keen in acknowledgement of the outcome, as the Astartes look on in disgust and do nothing. The Prognosticator goes to communicate with the leaders still-capable of speech and after several minutes, relays back.
"Both will soon die of their wounds but the Pro-Assimilator is in better condition, and will still be alive for the next few hours. The other Xenos will be dead in under an hour." You clasp your servo-arms together.
"I suppose that we're assimilating them, then." "It is seems so. The Xenos appear to approve of the decision-making process. We may have averted a large-scale conflict." "Good. Their numbers will be needed in the years to come." The Prognosticator sighs.
"Of that, I have no doubt. What next, Brother Talnior?"You think for some time.
"Brother, we're done here.": The Xenos can manage themselves for now, you'll be back in a month or so to see how it's gone."Brother, I lament your fate, but-": You'll need him to be your emissary to the Xenos, unraveling their secrets and overseeing the speedy restructuring of their society."Brother, your secrets are needed.": The Prognosticator's understanding of their language will be vital to deciphering their recordings and making inter-species communication possible, as the fleet hangs over the planet.
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Topic: Renegade Space Marine Simulator (40k) (Read 26066 times)