Carry-All's are the go to military transports in the Cosmic Era
Aerospace Capitol Ships of the Atlantic Federation
A mail order tank, interstellar war, the engines of galactic commerce and nostalgia.
Also known as hover cycles, HBs, Tin cans, tin coffins, and smear-bikes, the military hover bike is a common vehicle in many arsenals and motorpools
The blast of charged particles tore into one of the entrenched tanks, then from the 'Mech's other barrel-arm into its mate emerging from behind a corner.
Commander Ratzelle had to admit - letting the rookie ride in the Warhammer was not such a bad choice after all; indeed was he a crack shot.
"Ha! There it goes, blown into pieces! We'll never see their sorry asses again!"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, greenhorn" the lance leader replied. "Get ready for clean-up! We have to root them out by nightfall!"
I've seen a lot of things in my time lad, six legged mechs, tanks with arms, jets that turn into mechs, but I've never seen anything like that.
Unpowered and unmanned, the gliders provide a graceful and silent means for delivering death. Once again the engineers found that you didn't need to reinvent the wheel. . .
The Silesian Triremes, also known as the Three-in-one, are one of the more feared ships that the marines and the sailors of the De Madden Company have met in battle.
The SCIV (Subletheal Counter Insurgency Vehicle) is a wheeled tank designed for ubran pacification and domestic police work.
It is the will of the King that a commision be formed to create a vehicle capable of bringing the firepower of a warship inland, without need of towage, transportation, protection. It must be self-reliant, able to withstand the rigours of battle. And it must be big.
The Maelstrom is greatly feared by those who have to face it in combat, as they know that they could soon be destined for Davy Jones’s Locker…
A rare sight, but one dreaded by the foes of dwarvendom.
The party has found the source of the strange creatures roaming the countryside. The rift in this reality glows with a silver hue, rippling with the wind but never moving. They step through and are immediately assaulted with the scent of rotting meat, some have to muster all their strength not to vomit. Strange cries similar to the beasts the party had faced before can be heard in the distance. Looking around, they see they are in a forest of grey and red rather than the normal brown and green. The trees are sticky to the touch and writhe, perhaps to get away or perhaps as a warning.
The deeper the party goes, the more the forest seems to slither and move underfoot. The cries get closer and more numerous. Creatures lurk in the shadows, all the same color of their surroundings. Whatever the party came in here for, they had better do it fast.
The forest of flesh is waking up, and it is so very hungry.