KnockRat Qualifier - Palanite Patrol vs Outcast Scum: Fight!

 

Welcome back, violence fans! The atmosphere in tonight's arena is electric and I don't mean just from the faulty wiring. It's the second round of the KnockRat, and boy howdy, have we got a match for you!

I'm your host tonight, Jarribix Klabbs, the mutie you don't want to mute, sponsored by H. Gorbu's Kill'n'Grill - you make it die, he'll make it fry! With me as ever is my garrulent goitre, Blaargh!

Ackackackackakkkhhhhhello! I've got to say, I've got a great feeling about tonight's match, Jarri! The crowd is really excited, I think a lot of creds are changing hands in the stalls - everyone is on edge, and they just can't wait for the match to begin!

I know, Blaargh, I know! There's a kind of anticipation bordering on outright murderlust on the face of every hiver here tonight. Could it be that our local law enforcement representatives are fielding a team tonight?

Jarri, we're all big fans of Lord Helmawr's justice down here in the hive, and I just want to be the first to say hwweeaaallllllchhhh!

That's a remarkable amount of steaming pus that Blaargh's expelling right there, and all of us at the arena tonight know exactly what he's trying to tell us - simply put, our pals in the Palanites are simply tops, and it's certainly not fear of horrific beatings that make us cheer with all we've got for these friends in layered flak!

That goes double for me, Jarri!

Because you don't have your own separate nervous system, Blaargh?

No, truncheons just bounce off my moist and springy interior!

You're truly blessed, Blaargh, truly you are. Let's meet the teams!

Wowoweee, Jerri - look at all this hardware! Shock batons, assault shields, penetrator rounds and bless my rancid rind, is that a realio trulio SLHG Ram? It's like they raided the secret chamber under my bedroom!

Yes, you can say what you like about our courageous constables, but you certainly can't call them underprepared! Law One are decked to the gills with some of the most advanced and deadly peace-promotion equipment the Hive can offer. 

Shame they don't have the training to match it, Jarri!

The only shame here is on you, Blaargh, for daring to impune our stout officers. As if any but the noblest and finest our planet can offer would be granted responsibility for our law-abiding and safety! No, if they have one disadvantage in this match-up, it's the traditional copper's lot - they're going to be outnumbered against their opponents. Affluent guilder JhnLk is backing these legal legends. Cheers to him, and jeers at the ready as we go to meet tonight's villains, so vile and lawless they've even been kicked out of the Underhive!

Just one glance at the Psyker's Bikers makes me sick to my rotten core, Jarri. Look at 'em, revving their wastebikes and flexing their illegal psychic powers!

It's a real who's-who of local bounty lists, Blaargh, these Outcasts must be thanking their sorry stars that they didn't draw a Venator gang in these initial match-ups. Nominal leader Wes Warphead is a notorious sight in these parts, and the less said about The Twins the better! Hired Beastmaster Centi Pete is along for the ride tonight with his entire kennel of milliasaurs, and what the rank (and they certainly are) and file of this gang lack in ranged firepower or armour, they certainly make up for in numbers and sheer brass-necked gumption in being here at all. Only a wretched sumplord like Kraken would be low enough to sponsor these reprobates!

Are bikes even allowed in the Hive, Jarri?

Only as part of licensed entertainment at a classy joint like we're at tonight, Blaargh! Just remember, these are Outcasts. Strict and fairly-enforced speed limits don't mean much to their kind. I don't see a single safety helmet out there!

Hooo, but that's some risky living, Jarri! We may live in constant fear of hivequakes and brain-leaf infestation, but I tell you, whiplash is no joke!

The arena pumps are slowly draining the run-off from last night's gunk leakage - let's see what the layout has to offer the gangs tonight!

That sure seems like the usual triple lane trauma trap, Jarri. Central scoring zones, with the middle aisle wide and free and the edges packed with debris. It's a slaughter sandwich ready to happen!

More doors than before, with the entrance of one side initially blocked to each gang. And where our left lane has a locked security slab separating it from the centre, the right has a wide-open hole! Surely some error?

No, Jarri, that's no hole - look closer!

Great gook, Blarrgh, you're right! Is that one of the old plasmotic neuraliquifier fields?

Seems that way to me, Jarri! Step into that without hitting the off-switch, and your brain will be running out your ears faster than you can say Nautican Syphoning Delagation!

Ouch, Blaargh - let's keep our fingers crossed we see it happen! And now, without further ado, let's answer that oldest of questions - who watches the watchmen?

I know I am!

Tonight, we all do, Blaargh! The gangers are taking their places, the referee has been sealed in a ceramite tomb in a different part of the Hive and the crowd are chanting what I can only describe as a dedicated paean of love and praise to our jackbooted overseers of such simple and haunting beauty, it's bringing tears to my mismatched eyes. 

The warning klaxon is blaring - we're seconds away!

Look at that handsome figure out in the midfield already, Jarri, a real winner if ever I saw one. Patrolman 'Brainer' Scully, watching over our hopes and dreams from behind some rusting crates. Gotta wonder, though, is he risking his neck with those infiltrating milliasaurs so near to his perch?

Some might say you owe him last week's protection money, Blaargh, and that you might be feeling more hope than wonder?

You got me all wrong, Jarri! Seeing a pack of them chewing his limbs off is, like, my second or even third worst nightmare!

And almost before Aunt Maureen can rear her inevitable head over our proceedings - we're off! 

Turn 1

Bleeeerooooow, look at 'em go, Jarri! PC Plods these certainly ain't! Fast response? I'd sure say so! They know exactly what they want and where to get it - points from the scoring zone. Gotta respect that lean focus on a righteous win!

Whilst on the other hand, Blaargh, that's a sickening display of speed the Psyker's Bikers have to show us. Predictably moronic, rushing for the middle like rad-zombies after a whiff of brain. I didn't expect less, but I'm still disappointed I got it. A couple of early shots here and there, nothing connecting at these distances, we're all going to have to wait for the carnage to commence. 

Scores: Nil All

Turn Two

Looks like we won't have to wait long, Jarri, I see ga-ga-ga-gore on the fla-fla-fla-floor already!

You're not wrong, Blaargh - Officer 'Doric' Columbo, a real pillar of the community, might have been a touch too ready to rely on the protection of his assault shield. He's made an early bid for the central zone and he's run into an absolutely lethal hail of stubber fire from the bike-mounted Twins there. A tragic loss, he will be missed!

Not by the Twins, though, Jarr! There's a pair of outlaw scrappers running in to get the middle, and even more, a real scum-swarm descending over on the right!

Heavens to Helmawr, Blaargh, that bodes ill for the Bill! Even though Captain Nore Morse himself is leading the charge over there, I can't see how they're going to stem that tide! 

And millions of millisaurian mandibles - Officer Scully is really regretting setting up nearer the scum, Jarri, there's an actual centistampede all over him! Incredible that he's not on the floor already, his armour is putting in the overtime!

Incredibly frustrating for you, I don't doubt, Blaargh. 

But he's not alone! Look at that, Officer 'Doorknock' Holmes has smashed right through that bulkhead with his SLHG, and he's pouring the frag on Centi Pete!

Quick thinking that man - if they take out the wyrd, the big bugs will go straight to ground. He's down! But just wounded, squirming around behind the barricades like one of his mutant pets. Well, this is already looking bad for our beloved barneys. Is that a shocked pall of gloom descending over tonight's crowd?

I'd say more like cautious optimism, Jarri!

A cyst and a cynic, I see, Blaargh. Early doors yet, though, there's still a lot to play for! 

Scores: Outcasts 6 (all three zones), Palanites Nil

Turn 3

Well lick my loculae, Jarri - look at that! That's where our tax credits are going! Captain Morse is barking orders, and that's some a-grade ass-whupping he's dealing out on the right there!

I don't know what shocks me more, Blaargh - that you'd ever doubt our bullish bobbies, or that you actually pay tax!

Either way, Jarri, that's three for zero over there as the bullets start flying. No rubber tips here, that's for sure! Those outcasts will get their Mirandas in the morgue! Prazhooooo!

And with pathetic predictability, I can see their backup fleeing the scene. What a yellow-belly!

Same story in the middle, Jarri, those scummers are being mopped up faster than spilled second-best in a dry drinking hole!

If only there weren't just so gosh-darned many of them, Blaargh, the Palanites might stand a chance of keeping them from scoring the middle! Not just multitudinous, but motor-powered, too - that's Outcast champion Tash, the Moustachio'd Mindreader, sticking pedal to the metal and powering through towards the Palanite back lines. If he gets past, they're in even deeper trouble score-wise!

Waaaa-hoo! I'm wub wub wubbing this - as that sneaky cyclist tries to slip past, Sergeant 'Seeing' Starsky just stuck a nightstick in his spokes! That's a hard stop, Hive-law-style! 

Yes, fast he might have been, but as he skids to a broken stop face-first across the unforgiving steel grating, Tash has just got to be wishing he wore a crash helmet. An ugly end to an ugly man. 

Pity about all those milliasaurs!

Yes, the Outcasts are all over that left side, Blaargh. Centi Pete might have lost control of some of them, they're running in all directions there. Their thick scaly hides are proving just as tough for the patrolmen to crack through as they're finding the Palanite flak. It's a one-sided stalemate that our heroic popo can't afford to lose. 

Is that how stalemates work, Jarri?

We don't have time to find out, Blaargh, the clock is running out!

Scores: Outcasts 10 (middle and left), Palanites 5 (right side, a champion and four gangers down)

Turn 4

With the right side on full lock-down, the law is sweeping towards the centre. Chant it with the crowd, Blaargh, go go subjugators!

Pretty sure that's 'go home subjugators', Jarri. 

You don't have ears, Blaargh, your opinions certainly can't be legally attributed to me even if I am your host body. 

Some lovely enfilading fire there, the lawmen know the lawless aren't going to risk trying to cross the neuroliquifier field to get back at them. And the Twins are down! Fantastic shooting from Patrolman 'Mad' Monk and his Penetrator Bolt rounds. It's brought Wes Warphead crawling out from behind the barricade where he's been cravenly lurking all match, trying to use his much-vaunted psychic biomancy powers to pick his champions off the floor. 

You sure they're psykers, Jarri? I haven't seen a single suspicious phenomenon all evening!

Not for want of trying, I'll be bound, Blaargh! Non-sanctioned and just downright sad. 

Whammo-di-blammo! Whap! One hell of a connection from out of the back field, there, Jarri, that's a concussion ram shot right to the Outlaw chief! 

Goodness me, that's a lovely piece of firepower, knocking the wheels out from under the renegade reprobate. Might be a nice bike, but it's going to take him a while to get it upright as he tries to clear his head from the ringing aftereffects of that concussive blast! 

Looks like the law nearly have the middle banged to rights. There's just one scumbag with a big axe left out there. Book her, boys!

Oh no! Down goes 'Dim' Rockford, she's really read him the riot axe!

Now they're tied in the middle as Officer 'Touchy' Frost tries to take her in. No clear victor there!

Mixed news indeed from the midfield, but look out on the left. Centi Pete's centi-impeding due process here, and then some!

Owowoooff! Three officers down in as many seconds!

Yes, that's really finished off any hope for a comeback on the left, those massive millicreatures have proved an unbeatable menace. Centi Pete would be proud, if he wasn't terrified his psychic control over them could fry his brain and give out at literally any moment. 

Right, Jarri, like they say - a Beastmaster is always seconds away from a beast disaster!

Not tonight, though, Blaargh, he's proved himself worth every credit the Outcasts paid for him. Their lead seems insurmountable as the final seconds tick away!

Score: Outcasts 15 (left, 4 patrolmen and a champion), Palanites 8 (right and a champion)

Turn 5

Well, we're looking at the closing seconds here Blaargh, and I have to say, it's been an uphill struggle for the thin brutal line all through this match. 

Yeah, for all that fancy gear, they've just not been able to connect like you'd expect. Sure they splashed out at the trading hole, but did they get their credits' worth?

Could be time to refund the police, you mean, Blaargh? Many searching questions to be asked back at the Precinct Fortress, you can be sure. As the timer hits zero, they've taken the middle and put the Outlaw leader on the floor, but it's too little too late. The Palanites go crashing out of the qualifiers!

Final Scores: Outcasts 17 (left), Palanites 14 (centre, right and a leader)

Scazowee-balowee, Jarri, what a match! 

Absolutely, Blaargh, an absolute blow for freedom and liberty! The crowd is just lighting up, in mood as well as the improvised bonfires they're making out of scavenged Palanite gear. About time their hateful presence was scourged from this corner of the Hive, as I've always said!

Right on, Jarri! They fought Law One, and the law, well, I don't think I can finish that , Jarri, it's been a long and emotional hhhrrrrkkkkkkaaaaaaaarblerrrggrhhhhhhhh

Don't worry, listeners, Blaargh might have temporarily burst, but it's nothing serious, just his usual internal build up of necrotic pustulence. He'll have festered himself back into tip-top-talking shape in time for the next bout, you can be sure of that. This is me, Jarribix Klabbs, wishing you all a safe trip back through the rusting hellscape we all call home - tune in for our next match!