Sci-Fi-Fan-Group

For Sci-Fi/Fantasy fans

Group Info Group Founded 11 Years ago

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Rules

Hey there! Welcome to Sci-F-Fan-Group, a group for science-fiction and fantasy lovers! Like any group, be sure to read over the rules:

1. Art submitted must be science-fiction or fantasy related in some way*
2. Mature art is allowed, but must have the mature filter **
3. DA rules & standards apply
4. No stolen art! (if you see a piece in the gallery that's stolen, please let one of the admins know)
5. No spamming the group's comments. You may advertise and all, but do not spam and clutter the comments
6. No rude or hateful comments or posts allowed. This group is open to everyone and every skill level
7. And as always, have fun!

*Submitting to the correct folder is not required, but it makes our job sorting stuff in the folders easier. The review stage is to make sure the submission doesn't violate the above rules.

**Mature art MUST be submitted to the Mature Art folder. If it's not, it will be declined.

Should you break the rules, you'll get a warning. Break them again, you will be banned.

Should a submission that breaks the rules enter the gallery, please let one of the admins know.

Should a folder become full, leave a comment on the home page, or send a note to the group saying which folder, and a new one will be made.

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Anakin's Birthday

PedroDeElizalde 76 15

RE-238 Obliterator Superheavy Railgun Emplacement

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Biting Chill - Chapter 1

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The Colonists: First Contact Pg1

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Breaking Free Of The System by wolandepiphanius2

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Galaxy Ranger Interceptors (My version) by Colourbrand

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Commander Prazhuron Koroborskij by HorsesPlease

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The Apocalypse #8, ''Ticking time bomb''George took extra precaution as he brought the Britannic-class transporter close enough to clamp onto one of the external docking ports of the station. Well, one of the few docking ports that was still working that is. The station was a complete mess as whatever force the Affliction brought to attack this station must have been immense. However, that force is long gone now, and if he is to figure out just how wide spread the Affliction is right now, he must get inside this station, and access its main data vault. The ship jostled a little as the ship's airlock's magnetic locks engaged, linking the ship with the station. As George walked to the airlock he noticed that his hands were slightly trembling, likely due to him being nervous, and scared. He was worried of just what he might discover in that data vault, and a part of him hopes there's not a single access terminal that was still working. He shunned those thoughts away as he entered the airlock, and awaited for the ship to equalize its pressure with the station. Soon enough, the pressure was equal, and the door's automatic locks disengaged, granting George free access to the station. With still shaky hands, he pressed the door's "open" command, and was shocked by what he say when the door slid away. The airlock opened up to a large corridor, with high ceilings and ample room for motorized equipment to move cargo to and from whatever docked ship was using this airlock. Just like the outside, the inside was just as much as a mess with battle signs scattered up and down the corridor. Bullet holes dotted every surface that wasn't scorched black if an explosion hadn't already buckled and torn away the paneling. While there was no visible fire as of yet, the air was filled with smoke making everything hazy, though George was unaffected by it thanks to his helmet's built in air filers. The only thing that wasn't present was any bodies, though there were signs that bodies were once present. Blood was everywhere, either splatter on every surface, or in pools hinting at were bodies once lay though no longer. The reason was simple: the Affliction had either mutated the bodies, or groups of bodies, and moved them elsewhere, dragging away whatever bodies or lumps of flesh that it couldn't mutate into forms that could move under their own power. However as George made his way through the corridor, careful not to make too much noise or to do anything to draw attention to himself, he noticed that there was very little signs of the Affliction anywhere. Sure all the signs of an Affliction attack was there, right down to the missing bodies, but were where all the infected forms now set loose to roam the corridors for their next victim. There wasn't even accumulated mounds of flesh and meat that the Affliction loved to make out of all the bits of bodies it couldn't mutate into murderous monsters. There was quite simply nothing, but the scene of destruction that lay before him. It left him with an uneasy feeling in his gut, and he double his pace as he crawled his way through the wreckage. Trying to navigate the station was a nightmare, and it wasn't due to basically every other corridor, and passageway sealed off either from desperate survivors, or by the station's automatic systems after detecting a breach or raging fire. All that merely added to the nightmarish nature of navigating this place, the true problem was the very layout of the station its self. It was built like a maze, and unless you lived on this station 24/7 you'd never learn the layout. George had to stop numerous times, find a map, and figure out where he was, and how to get to the data vault. Nearly two hours later, and George was finally at the door of his destination. The door appeared to be in working order, or not obstructed at the very least. Even the little sign above the door reading "Main Data Vault - Authorized Personal Only!" was still lit. This was a good sign, but when George opened the door, he wasn't so sure about it anymore. There must have been some obstruction, or something blocking the door on the other side as the door slid only half-way before stopping. He peeked his head into the room to see if he could free the door of whatever was blocking it, and to see if the rest of the room was still intact. The main data vault looked like any room on this blasted station, computers, and other work stations dotted the room, though a large window was located on the far room that gave view into the station's main processing units. However, in the far left corner was something he didn't expect, a group of bodies all slumped against the wall. After seeing the bodies George instantly pulled out of the room, and nervously looked behind himself, expecting to finally see the horde of infected that had been hiding from him up until this point. However, there was nothing, just a quite, and crumbling corridor. Turning his attention back to the room, George elected to just squeeze through the gap, and get a better look at what was going on. Once in the room, George started walking over to the pile of bodies, but he stopped by one of the computer work stations as there was a body sitting in the chair. It was a Protector, his armor's markings were red, contrasted to George's being yellow, indicating this man was part of the Protector unit that was stationed on the station its self. His helmet was removed, though there wasn't much of a head left, and the cause of this injury was still located in his hand. A P-30 heavy sidearm, that gun's 12.7x35mm cartridges would surely do the trick, particularly if you're worried of the Affliction using your remains after your gone. He then turned his attention to the group of bodies, and upon closer look, it was just five bodies all slumped against the wall. None of them were protectors, though some wore uniforms indicating they came from the station, but the others were in simple civilian clothing. There was a blood splatter on the wall above each of the bodies, blood dripping down the wall, and each body was either missing parts of their head, or missing it all together. Brain matter scattered the wall, and ground around them, and George was starting to piece together what happened here. A lone Protector either separated from his squad, or more likely, the last man standing gets cornered in the main data vault with a group of civilians as the Affliction horde tears apart the station. Seeing no way out, they elected to go out under their own terms, and once the deed was done, the Protector followed soon after. George let out a sigh as he walked back over to the Protector and removed his identification tags. His name was "Gideon Cartter", his blood type of O-, and he wasn't religious. He patted his fallen comrade's shoulder as he tucked his tags in a pouch. He then turned his attention to the next issue connected to these bodies, such as why are they here when there was none elsewhere? It struck him as odd as throughout the entire station, there wasn't a single body since the Affliction had taken them away, yet here there were six! The barricade they put against the door wasn't even that sturdy and any infected form could have easily gained access to this room. Why did the Affliction leave six perfectly good bodies it could have added to its biomass? Probably for the same reason it didn't leave anything else behind when it left. Activating a computer terminal, he quickly started digging into the station's functions, and status to see if there was any underlying causes. It didn't take him long as a station wide diagnostic quickly revealed that the raging inferno that was quickly engulfing the other end of the station was about to engulf both the station's fuel reserves, as well as one of the main munition lockers. In other words: this station was about to be nothing more then molten slag floating in space....

The Apocalypse #7, ''What's left?''Even as the Britannic-class transporter entered the vicinity of the Rymdstation-9 station George could tell something was wrong. They were roughly 300 kilometers away, yet no had bothered to try and contact him. At this distance, he should be visible on their scanners, the Britannic-class is shaped like a brick, and not all that stealthy, yet his communications systems remained quite. He tricked himself into believing that it must simply be due to all the activity, it's not every day that the Affliction invades your solar system. It must have the Protector high command all in a fit as they try and combat this infestation before it spreads too far out. While the Affliction is a very dangerous foe, in the early stages of an outbreak as long as you can contain it to a single planet, and prevent it from gaining access to space, it should be beatable. However, the fall of Lantbruk to the Affliction surely complicates things, and they must mobile the Regional Protector Fleet soon or the Affliction will no longer be containable. Thankfully, George has experience with combating, and containing the Affliction thanks to his first time encountering them all those years ago, and he's sure the advice he can give will be valuable. Though soon his little delusion was shattered as the space station came into visual range. The massive station was shaped like a ring, docking clamps and hanger bays dotted the exterior of the station. This was the central command and control of all Protector activities and units within this solar system. Some of the most elite Protector units were stationed here, merely waiting to be deployed to any region of the system. Hell, even some Protectors from the Quadrachion Empire called this station their home. All that meant that this place should be the toughest nut to crack, their strongest citadel, a place to regroup, plan, and launch their counter attack. Yet as the station grew larger in the main viewport, the signs of death and destruction became all the more visible. The cracked, and bent hulls of the defending warships dotted the space around the station. From the station itself, black thick smoke spewed out of hull breaches as internal fires raged on unchecked. The once clean, smooth, and seemingly un-breachable outer hull plating of the station was now scorched black, and buckled. It seemed that several ships, either friend or foe, had collided with the station, their tail-ends still sticking out into the void of space. All of this were signs of a battle long lost however, as whatever foe had came through here had seemingly left to stack their next victim. As George gazed upon the destruction that laid before him, he couldn't help but think: "How is this possible?!". His world had only fallen to the Affliction mere hours ago, there should have still been time to organize their counter attack, just like they did the first time he had to fight the Affliction. However, he couldn't fight the evidence when it laid out in front of him. Clearly this isn't like the first time he faced against them, and if Rymdstation-9 and all of its defenders were already defeated, then the story for the rest of the system must be similar to his world, buy just how far out has the Affliction spread? Maybe this wasn't a defeat, but a tactical retreat? The only way he'd learn any of that would be to board the station, and access the central computer. Though if the internal damage was even half as bad as the external, there might not be much of a computer to access....

The Apocalypse, #6, ''No Survivors''The ship started up with no trouble, the subtle rumble of the main reactor slightly vibrating the floor paneling beneath George's feet. Next, the control panel in front of him lit up like the lights from a festival and he waisted no time in starting the lift off procedure. As the ship built up pressure for lift off, George quickly made a run through the ship, dumping the bodies of the infected in one of the airlocks. His plan was that while he was in the air, he'd open the airlock, tilt the ship to one side, and let the bodies all fall from the ship. Since most of the bodies were in the cargo hold, he'd use one of the airlocks located there. At first everything was going well, until it came to removing the bodies of his former comrades. He had used the incendiary grenade from Cherry's kit to not only kill the infected that were devouring Churchill's remains, but to also damage their bodies enough where the Afflictions' influence on dead bodies wouldn't see the value of turning them into killer infected forms. He should have known better then to underestimate Protectors' armor durability as when he came to the cargo hold, he saw the charred remains of Cherry standing upright in the middle of a pile of equally charred bodies. From his vantage point up on the catwalk, the now infected Cheery had not yet noticed him, but the very sight of seeing her now mutated body upright caused his gut to twist up in a knot. He just stood there, almost leaning over the guardrail just staring at her body, it caused old memories to bubble up form his first encounter with the Affliction. George had gotten used to seeing friends dead, it came with being a Protector, but to see them back up and moving, now with the sole purpose to kill you never sat well with him. George wasn't sure how long he stood there, but it was long enough for the infected-Cherry to notice him. However, the incendiary grenade must damaged the body in unseen ways as she did not screech at him, or try to reach him in a bloodlust induced frenzy, instead she just stood there, staring at him. Letting out a sigh, he made his way down to the main floor of the cargo bay, knowing what he must do. Even once there were both on the same floor, and with nothing between them, she did not move as her body must have been more damaged then he thought which only made him wonder how she managed to stand up. He walked up to the pile of bodies were she stood, stopping a few feet before reaching her. There the two of them just looked at each other, and from this distance he could see that the Affliction had barely mutated her body, probably sensing how damaged her body was, it was unsettling to say the least. If it wasn't for the charred nature of her remains, and the very subtle groaning/growling noise she was making, he could almost trick himself into thinking that she was still alive. Maybe that's why the Affliction only reanimated her to where she could stand up, to trick any survivor. However; unlucky for them, they had tried this trick once before with George, and he promised himself he'd never be fooled again. Raising his service weapon up he muttered mostly to himself, "I'm sorry", before putting a high-charged round through the visor of her helmet, and once again her body slumped to the ground, rejoining the others. He gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts before moving their bodies to the airlock, and making his way back up to the cockpit. Thankfully enough time had passed, and the ship's VTOL functions had built up enough pressure for lift-off with all the systems now on stand-by. Getting himself settled into the pilot's chair, he initiated rapid-take off, and within a split second the ship hurtled itself into the air, the G-force pressing down hard on George. The G-force soon leveled off as the ship reached a cruising altitude and speed, and once he was well in route back to the town, George opened the airlock and pitched the ship to one side, releasing all the remains to the forest below. He couldn't help but think of his comrades' remains plummeting to the ground, but he shook his head of those thoughts and refocused on the task at hand. He was about a mile away from the town when he opened the communication channels to let them know he was coming. "Nystart ground control, this is Commodore George in route back to you with the transport, how copy over?" Static was the only thing that answered him, and his heart dropped to his stomach as his mind went to the worst case. However, reminding himself that they didn't have time to properly set up communication channels, and that he had to try different channels. Switching the comms to a dedicated channel reserved for Protectors George repeated his message. "Commodore Chiang, this is Commodore George in route with the transport for the evacuation, how do you copy over?" and still only static answered him. Tired of the guessing game, George set the comms to full broadcast mode thus anyone should be able to receive him and vice versa. "To anyone in Nystart this is Commodore George of the Protector Initiate, if anyone is receiving this please respond immediately, over." and still nothing. Even the ship's on board comms weren't picking up any broadcasts coming from Nystart, hell they weren't even picking up any active signals of any kind. It was because of this that as he did his initial fly by of the town, the light coming from the town he first mistook as house lights, were actually the many buildings now engulfed in fire. Circling the town, he tried to find any sign of survivors, but the only movement he saw from the ground was from the horde of infected besieging the town. Then from the rooftop of the Nystart's townhall he saw them: a pair of survivors, but something was off. He could clearly make out two Protectors, but one seemed to be leaning against the other, injured in some form or another. Never the less, it didn't matter to him, be it 1,000 survivors or only 1 , he was going to get people out of this hell scape. He circled the town hall, slowly dropping his altitude as he looked for the best means to get them onboard the ship, that was when one of them aimed something up into the air. Moments later a bright red flair shot into the sky, a signal to break off his descent and fall back. Protectors used them to signal a front being overrun with no hope of escape. They were telling him to leave them to die, but he wasn't going to listen. Continuing to lower to the ground, he readied himself to engage the ship's VTOL function, and hover low enough were they could board the ship via one of the side airlocks. The town hall was surrounded by taller buildings and if he was not careful, he could easily crash into one of them bringing this rescue mission to a fiery conclusion. That is until the two survivors took matters into their own hands, and together, they leapt from the building into the horde of infected down below all while George was powerless to stop them. He continued to circle the town hall, just looking at the building in disbelief. He felt powerless, hopeless, worthless, he felt all of these and more but it wouldn't change the situation. He did one more circle around the town, and even checked a few of the surrounding towns, but all he saw was the same scene of death, and destruction. Not knowing what else to do, he took the ship up to roughly 20,000 feet to get a large sweeping view of the landscape. However, all he saw was town after town, city after city, settlement after settlement, all engulfed in fire as the Affliction devoured all in its path. He contemplated whether or not he had the speed to get to the other side of the planet, to get somewhere the Affliction had not yet reached and get those people to safety. In his mind, if he couldn't save his town, or even the next town over, then any town would do. He just had to save someone, but then his communication systems picked up a new broadcast. A three tone note played out signaling an Emergency Broadcast System announcement. "This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing a nationwide state of emergency is in effect. A civil authority has issued the immediate evacuation for the following regions: East Coast, lower East Coast, County Island, Perceiver Lake..." George started drowning it out after that as all of those regions weren't even located anywhere near Nystart or its surrounding areas. Hell, most of those areas were damn well on the other side of the globe! If those areas were this bad already, then he wouldn't be able to get there in time to save anyone. He set the ship to autopilot as he tried to think of his next course of actions. He could try the Protectors' global headquarters, surely he could find someone there. However, the thought of that brought him back to his first time fighting the Affliction. The Protectors' global headquarters, and other fortified locations across that planet were some of the hardest hit with the Affliction being very thorough with their killing, sending only their most terrifying infected forms. Monsters made of an conglomeration of bodies smashed any and all defenses no matter how prepared they were. There were no survivors then, and he doubted there would be any by the time he could reach them. Slumping into his seat with a heavy sigh, he could think of only one thing he could do now: fall back to one of the interstellar space stations the Protectors used as headquarters for the entire system. There he could report the fall of Lantbruk, and get further instructions from there. Once the course was plotted George let the autopilot do all the flying, the computer spatting out "Course set for: Rymdstation-9, arrival in 3-hours." With his destination plotted, George made way for the crew deck, there he planned on taking a 3-hour shower. Hopefully, the Protector high command will have something for him to do once he makes his report....

The Apocalypse, #5, ''All clear''George stood on the catwalk, looking down into the rest of the cargo hold for a few extra seconds as the fire from his incendiary grenade cooked off. He was the last one left alive now, and though he had planned for this outcome, it still didn't make him feel any better, but now was not the time to dwell on such thoughts. Shaking his head clear, he refocused on the task at hand, getting this ship back to the town and evacuating the survivors out of there. However, he had to clear the rest of the ship first before he could take it anywhere, and now he had to do it alone, though this wouldn't have been the first time he had to face off against the Affliction alone. Exiting the cargo hold, George made his way through the rest of the ship, though thankfully there wasn't much left of the ship to clear. Since a vast majority of the interior of a standard Britannic-class transporter was taken up by that cargo hold, all he really had to do was clear the small mess hall, the few crew quarters, and few other odd rooms, and crawl spaces. The first place was the crew quarters as the calk walk from the cargo room led straight to them. After passing through the door that led form the cargo hold to the crew deck, George found himself in a small community room were the typically small crew could relax and blow off steam while out on a long voyage. On either side of the 7 x 14 meter room were long rectangular windows with rounded corners that peered outside with a small counter top for crew members to sit and eat their food. On one side of the door George just walked through was a small stove and oven for cooking meals, and on the other side was a sink and faucet. On the opposite side of the room was the door that led to sleeping quarters, and that was were he was heading next. The door opened with a subtle hiss and opened up to yet another large-ish room. It was about the same size as the common area, but instead of bar stools, and booths lining the walls, there were bunks, and lockers for storing personal items. Carefully moving in-between the bunks, George cleared the room until he was at the opposite wall, and by the door that would lead into the bathing area. Luckily, it was small room with only a few showers heads, and toilets, but still no infected or signs of the Affliction. He had only cleared one deck, and yet George was growing more and more nervous as the time passed. The next few decks were all cleared in relatively same fashion. He'd arrive to deck, slowly make his way through it, only to find no infected or sign of the Affliction. It made his search of the ship seem tedious, slow, and a waste of time with him constantly reminding himself the danger if even one unknown infected, or anything to do with the Affliction made it past him when he went to gather the rest of the survivors. Slowly, but surely, he cleared each deck until he finally arrived at the very top of the ship, the command and control deck. This deck was among the biggest of the ship as it extended from the very front to the very rear of the ship without it being obstructed by the hanger bay, or other odd bits of machinery. As he ascended the stairs that took him from the previous deck up to the C&C deck, everything seemed to tell him that this deck would be like the rest of the ship, and for the most part, it was. Most of the deck was dedicated to the operation of the ship with most of the deck being wide open with work stations that controlled certain functions of the ship placed throughout. However, the actually cockpit were the piloting of the ship was located was in a separate and sealed room, along with a few extra critical workstations. This was a feature implemented on later models of the Britannic-class after a rather dubious bunch highjacked a transporter and used it to smuggle explosives into a military base and kill over 500,000 military and protector personal with a single explosion. A few extra work stations outside of "the brain" also had a bit extra security built into them, but it was the cockpit that had George's attention. Throughout the rest of the ship, he's seen some evidence of onboard fighting when the Affliction originally attacked the space port, but it never grew much past a few splashes of blood with the original crew of this ship being killed and either dragged off the ship to be absorbed directly into the Affliction or transformed into the many shapes of the Infected. However, here was different as a few feet outside of the closed doors of the cockpit laid the dismembered body of an infected. After making sure it was actually dead by curb stomping its head in, He then turned his attention to the trail of blood that led into the cockpit, passed the closed doors. Someone had to kill that infected, and that someone was now inside the cockpit. Moving up to the door, George banged on the door shouting out, "This is Commodore George Eric Ericson of the Protectors. Is there anyone in there?!" He paused and waited a moment, but nothing cam, and so he pounded on the door again. "It's alright! The rest of the ship is clear of any Infected, you can open the door please! I need this ship to help in the evacuation of a near by town!" Still nothing, and in George's head this meant the person was either dead, unconscious or that there was no one in there to begin with, so he figured he'd just pry open the door. "If there's anyone in there I'm forcing my way in! Please don't shoot me, I mean you no harm!" He first had to disengage the magnetic locks of the door, other wise he'd never get them prayed apart. Since this ship was upgraded to resist forceful entry of the cockpit, the task would be easier said then done, but a man of George's skill didn't have much trouble. After locating the electrical box that controled the controls to the cockpit's door, George got to work ripping out wires, then placing them back into their spots. This caused the door's sensors to go offline, then back online, but now reset with the magnetic locks now disengaged. Now came the fun part as even with the locks disengaged, the door was one solid piece that weighed over 1,000 pounds, but thankfully his Protector armor had a "limited artificial-muscle suit" built into it which gave George a slight boost in strength. Using his combat knife, he managed to pry a big enough gap open for him to get his fingers into, though at the cost of the knife as the tension broke the blade in half. Never the less, with what grip he could managed, he used all the might he could muster, opening the door wide enough for him to slip into the cockpit. Inside the cockpit he was met with yet another familiar sight. Sitting in the pilot's seat was another Protector. No one from his unit, probably a surviving Protector from the City of Eagles, but now very much dead. It seemed this Protector managed to kill the infected outside, get in, and lock the door, only for him to die from his injuries in the pilot's chair. George let out a sigh, and muttered a brief prayer for his fallen comrade hoping that his sacrifice wasn't in vain. He then gently removed the man's body from the seat, resting him on the floor with his service weapon laid across his chest, and with that taken care of, he turned his attention to getting this ship fully online, and heading for the town....

literature

Lego

XCOM 2 Specialist DATA Ever Vigil by henrykhaung

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Tortuga II Class Battle Cruiser by AngelisGoodwen

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Folder Updates

by Shifter-Eternal, Mar 19, 2018, 1:20:57 PM
Journals / Personal

First up, the "General Sci-fi" folder has been renamed to "General Sci-fi and Fantasy". Not a big deal, but it was kinda bugging me that it said one and not the other. Still the same folder, submit there if it's general stuff or if unsure where to submit.

Next up, there's now a dedicated mature content folder. That means any art submitted with a mature filter MUST be posted to that folder, or it'll be declined. I went through a good chunk of the current gallery, and sorted what I could. If I missed anything that should be in the mature folder, please let me know.

That's all for now.
Have a good one everyone!

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