The Old kzin pores over the data streaming in.
"it's going to be big, it's going to be soon, and it's headed our way" he said to no one in particular.
Grumbling on in a fashion usually ascribed to those of a certain age he stares at the Maps, the intelligence, gleaned from many sources and the rostas already leaked out, whether by accident or design. But above all a spectre haunts his mind, a personal demon he thought he had long put to rest, the Scarred Old Ridgehead, DOGMATIX. The very name itself had sent entire Star systems into panic, caused seasoned warriors to recheck their equipment to the Nth time, just in case, and in later years was the name of the bogey man to frighten small children.
Soon he would leave his home, his loved ones and don the Imperial armour, climb aboard his Flagship the IKV Stormbringer, (the Kzin chuckled at the aptness of the name), gather his Guard about him, assemble his fleets, and then just disappear. When he reappeared it would be where he was least expected, and where he had been would be in the shadow of his red and black banners of war.
Lord Kreug had put out the call and the warriors were being summoned, Bonk, MCG, Frankk, and they were the tip of the ice berg. Many many more who wore the flash of the KBF of their shoulders would move silently to the Colours. No one was fooled by the upstart Hexx's protestations of leadership, then the Klinks were not good with subterfuge, but were good with cold steel.
The Hammerblow would undoubtedly fall on the Kzin, the flank had tobe secured, but where, how and when?
He penned a Message:
"To Patriach M'Ress cc. Dux Bellorum ChuutRitt
From Captain Gook
They are coming. They are coming for us. They are coming for Mraa.
Call up the Clans. Call up the Dukes and Counts. Gird your loins for war.
The tempest will fall on us as it has so many times in the past. We must be ready, we no longer can rely on the Fearbringers or Mauraders, let us join with our Cousins in KOTH and form a ring of death fringed with fang and claw, let us sell ourselves dearly for each metre of the Sacred Hunting Grounds that the old foe seeks to take. let the entrails of the foe writhe like so much Gach on our table. We must hold and await succour from the UFP, let us hope they see the danger and are ready in time.
This will be a war such has not been seen in a generation, the old enemy led by the old foe.
To arms, to arms!"
His old paw stretched out and presses <send>
Topic: GW3 Storm clouds (Read 1534 times)