# Patchwork Company



## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

Mud.

It was everywhere. In your boots, your food, your gun, your pack.

Hell, you probably had it in your regulation "swimwear"

Not that anyone cared. This was hardly a paradise world.

Rain pattered down on Urbine Secundus. Anywhen else this would have been a good sign, a sign of spring, and growing and crops and money and prestige, and life. Anywhere else the rain was water.

Not now. Not anymore. Urbine Secundus was a death world. Here, the rain was acid.

A hell world.

A Chaos world.

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Colonel Markham Stackhouse looked down at his command.

Two weeks ago, he had been a leiutenant. But that was before his entire regiment had met their end at the hands of cultists, traitors. 

Murderers. 

Stackhouse had been promoted for one reason, and one only.

He was a damn hard bugger to kill.

That was fine with him. A good quality to have, more men should have it, like his regiment should have. They were weak. And so was this "Patchwork Company".

Segmentum Command called them the 19th Gregorian Reserves.

He called them a waste of skin.

Then the rain started down in the city. Or more accurately, what was left of a city. a city so destroyed and burned and shattered it scarcely even held the same shape that might resemble a city. His soldiers, and he hated to even call them that, had set up the compound down below, in the shadow of what might have been the govenor's palace. He decided that now might be a good time for his meeting. The men were looking for shelter from the rain anyway.

He could get used to being a Colonel.

He pointed at his adjutant, he could never remember his name.

"You!" The man snapped to.

"Get me Captain Halsen, or Kapitain, or however those damn Kreigers spell it"

"Sir! Yes sir!" The young soldier limped away. He had only one leg.

"I wonder how what's-his-name will take my news." Colonel Stackhouse smiled. He hated other officers. And it was fun to show one up.

He sat down on one of the few nice remaining peices of furniture they had recovered from the ruins. Then he poured himself a cup of recaff from his camp table, put his feet up, and waited for the sound of metal toed boots to clack on the filthy marble floor.
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Rems: The Colonel will be expecting you, what do you say? Remember the govenor's mansion is one of the few mostly intact buildings around, and at one point was fairly lavish. You will be found (wherever you decide to be) by a young one legged soldier wearing the black and grey fatiuges of the company, but it will be covered by a suit of Cadian Flak armor, painted grey. He will be young, a bit afraid of you and insistent on making you come with him, refusing to divulge info about the meeting because he himself does not know.

Deathbringer,Angel of Blood, Anilar, Kingfield; You four are all bunking together, you are located in one of four large acid-resistant tents, it fits six cots, each with a trunk at the foot containing your kit. What are you doing while the rain starts to pour down? Remember, it's acid rain so, go out and it WILL burn you.

Lanterns and Torches, Serpion5, Aramius; Same with you three, you're all in your own slightly smaller tent, it fits four cots, one of which is behind a shade. That is Specialist Kate's bunk. Remember she is the only woman in the squad so disrespecting her can get a call from the Commissar for discipline problems.

Otep, Klomster; You two are in a large pre-fab building, so you're safe from the rain for the time being, it's also been designated the field hospital. Since Dornes is one of the better medical officers in the regiment he is helping out the cheif medic. His name is Payne. Doctor Alectus Payne. He likes you well enough but doesn't know about your addiction, at this point, no one does. But if a book keeper notices missing narcotics that could change. 
Klomster, as per something you mentioned, Thrius is there too, helping out as a nurse. You may explain that however you like. Dr. Payne has no specific feelings twoard you as of yet.

Akatsuki13, Lord Ramo, DasOmen; You three are in the smallest of all three tents. DasOmen, you and Akatsuki13 bunk together, since he is the squad Corporal and you are the Sergeant, he will likely be fiddling with his Vox-set. What are you doing? 
Lord Ramo, Kate is here to speak with the sergeant, what about? Is it a complaint that the men are harassing her? A request for him? Getting to know your new squad mates?
Akatsuki13, your vox-set has been acting up lately, what are you going to do about it? How else do you spend the time?

Angel Encarmine; You are sitting in your tent, possibly with Rems, you two have the second smallest tent, since it houses the two of you. What are you doing? Reading reports? Drinking? Both? How do you pass the time? And if Rems is there, how do you react to him being summoned by the Coronel? Also, I forgot to mention, you are currently one of two commissars (whom you have yet to meet in person) attached to this regiment of perhaps 500 men and growing, so for the time being, you are in charge of discipline for roughly half of them. Emperor help us all.

Brendxb, Yru0; You are both on the road outside the complex, the north side, just now coming out of a fairly green, if foreboding and slowly dying, forest. You are part of a column being marched into the complex, perhaps 20 men, maybe more. You're new transfers from the Vardan Company now that it's being broken up since the end of the Broucheroc seige earlier in the Crusade. You're about to receive your new squad assignments. You dont know if you will be split up. How do you feel about this? Also, neither of you has to concern yourselves with the rain, you are both wearing resistant ponchos, as is everyone in the column.

ALL; Be sure to read the instructions for everyone else to know where they stand. You all are fairly unfamiliar with one another, perhaps having known each other for a few days. With the exception of Thrius, you are all unfamiliar with Urbine Secundus, other than the warnings about acid rain and other hazards that have been explained to you, but keep in mind that the threats and climate changes are fairly recent, before that the planet was a peacful agricultural world with a few large hive cities.

also Unexpektedd22, When you are ready and have posted your character sheet in the main forum, send me a PM and I'll tell you where you are starting.

Also, if anyone needs inspiration, this may help: [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSY4Yi2ypno]


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

Dorian had been sitting on the top bunk making proper adjustments to his lasgun. The Pandoran was well aware of the requirements for a Deathworld, and this was not the first time he'd encountered acid rain, and as such, he was making the proper adjustments, though oddly enough, he seemed giddy. Happy even to be in this hellish pit people called a planet.

"Finally, no more cities, no more open landscape, no more simple streams... Just BURNING....ACID...RAIN" The Sargent shouting as he hammered a piratically irking peace into place in the gun's inner workings. While most had their company fatigues on, abiding by the uniform code, the Linx spat at it and defied it openly, not that anyone's come forward to challenge the Pandoran on why he's still wearing his armor. Though a few have asked why he wears the fatigues over the armor... 

"Oh I have got to find the person who transferred me to this planet, oh i've got to find them and kiss em... Hope they're not a man, that would be rather awkward...." His fiddling with his gun was not for naught though, he was actually making fair amounts of progress. Though that progress haulted as his microbead acted up with enough of a screech to send the Pandoran toppling over the back of the bunk only to stop mid fall, hanging from his grapnel's wire as the hook held onto the support for the tent... Not that it buckled or anything. 

"OFF! OFF OFF OFF! Nathin shut her down!" Shouted Dorian as he righted himself, cringing visibly from the static coming through his helm's microbead as he ripped the thing off his head. Moving his jaw a bit like one would do to get a "air bubble" out of their ear. He dared not place his gloved finger in his ear for the whole acid burns notion. 

Looking to the kreiger Dorian gave him a sarcastic sort of scowl. "You're trying to punish me aren't ya boy?" he'd tease some, tossing his helmet on his bed and examining his Pandora's lasso with a smile. "Take your time with your vox unit Nathin, the machine spirit is in great pain right now. If we had a tech priest i'm sure they could sooth it, but we're a tad lacking. In the meantime, while you've got her open. Search through your kit for some plastic bags and twist ties. Take the plastic bags and double layer them over the bits that are being a bit too sensitive while whispering the rites of repair. Sounds silly as Gretchen actually being useful but my old long range vox caster had the same problem on Teshla four. Then again I hope you don't get eaten by a man eating plant like he did causing us to dig down to it's core just to dig the sap out. That was a pain."

Hearing someone enter the tent though, he'd straighten out a bit. "Whoever you are, you best have a damn good reason for breaking safety protocol and endangering your own health with this acid rain beating down on our heads." The Linx did not seem pleased that someone had ventured outside in this mess, let alone just to come see him or the vox operator, not that he knew who it was as his back was turned towards the entrance.


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## Otep (Mar 18, 2008)

Seven hours of carnage. Cory Dornes was placed in the medical facility seven hours ago with zero down time. Seventeen death certificates and dozens of patched up soldiers later Dornes was exhausted and starting to get a little shaky. The casualties from the day’s missions stopped pouring in two hours ago. Everything and everyone was stabilized and Dornes called for a much needed break.

He felt like a zombie. Limbs heavy, body aching all over from the duties in the medical facility, it was a long and grueling day. To think he was assigned two days before to the patchwork companies. 

Dornes walked to the open areas near the double doors leading outside. “By the Emperor’s boot, its pissing acid again…” reaching into his back pocket he produced a small metal case. Etched in the stainless steel surface was the emblem of the 426th Elysian Drop Troops, his former unit. Inside of the case he pulled out a “Terra” cigarette. He didn’t care much for the terra’s, preferring the bolder taste of the Mars Storm. But in a backwater outpost you get what you can. Carefully he placed it to his lips and lit the cigarette; Enjoying the slight warmth rolling down his throat and filling his lungs.

The vox unit attached to the wall started to beep: incoming message. “Twenty new arrivals incoming, prepare for possible acid burns and marching based injuries”

“Piss off”, thought Cory burning the last of his cigarette noticing his hands shaking erratically. Payne chimed in “What was that Dornes?” Payne wasn’t a bad person. Proficient in his duties as a medical officer, fairly cool headed and could work well under pressure. Cory almost liked him if it wasn’t for the fact he could feel his watchful eye burning at the back of his neck.

“Twenty packs incoming, prep the equipment for possible acid burns. I gotta take a piss Payne, be back in five minutes.” He didn’t really have to use the latrine but he had other matters to attend to outside of the views of his co workers. 

The latrine was empty, as it normally was, there was no time to take a piss. Dornes reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic pouch with several small pills of various sizes and colors. He “palmed” it off a dead soldier’s personal aid kit. 

“Where the hell are the T3s…” Dornes muttered as he went through the pills. Shortly after two identical white pills sat in his palm. Scanning the area Dornes popped both pills into his mouth and got a drink of water to wash them down.

Back to work…


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Seigdorn Von Halsen was perched on a collapsible stool, sipping ameasc beneath inside a large beige toned tent. It was what amounted to an officers club on this hell hole. Between the acid rain, the mud, and the constant shelling it reminded the young nobleman of home. 

Home; Kreig, which was where he would rather have been, atomic wasteland and all. On Kreig he could have mingled with high society as a decorated war hero while waiting for a new regiment to be formed. As a veteran soldier he would have surely been promoted, an experienced leader of men. But no here he was on Urbine Secundus, a part of some motley half assed outfit, oh yes he could see his future slipping away from the bottom of his glass, the amber liquid like fire down his throat. He had attempted to match the Commissar, Kane his name was, a Mordian he said, but the man was a sponge, inhuman in his capacity to imbibe alcohol. At the moment the man was engrossed with his reports, no doubt deciding who to shoot first. 

A small cough caught his attention and the officer turned, seeing a one legged Cadian standing awkwardly. "Yes?" he drawled, disinterestedly. 

"Uhh Captain" he began

"Hauptman, not Captain" Seigdorn snapped, eyes narrowing "And salute when you address a senior officer!" 

"Oh yes Sir, of course Sir, sorry Sir" the young soldier stammered out. Glancing in fear over at the Commissar. "Its the Colonel Sir, he wants to see you, now Sir" said the cripple, his words tumbling out in a rush. 

"Very well then" Sighed Seigdorn, standing and shrugging his long, grey greatcoat on. He drained his drink, eyes widening at the potent liqueur. 

"Good luck meeting with that pathetic excuse for an officer Seigdorn" commented Alvarius as Seigdorn stood. 

"Ja, perhaps you shoot him soon, yes?" he thanked the man and quipped, nodding and rolling his eyes at the prospect of the meeting. It was heartening to hear the Commissar say such things, Seigdorn had always got on well with Commisars so Kreiglike were many of them. 

Walking over to the tent flap, he paused, squaring his shoulders before walking out and facing this dismal world once more. Seigdorn did not think much of his colonel, a jumped up commoner who had less etiquette than should be expected from the leader of a regiment. While he might be able to fight on the battlefield Siegdorn was sure that he would be useless in the ballroom and no doubt couldn't tell a salad fork from a fish fork. Still he was his superior officer and _service, duty_, were words hammered into every son of Kreig. That didn't mean however that he had to like it. 

Walking up to the governor's mansion, tall, immaculately polished jackboots splashing through puddles he nodded to the sentries and door guards who admitted him on sight. Battered paintings were fitfully illuminated by struggling lumen strips and cracks spidered the plaster facade. Striding to his superior officer he came to a stop and performed a precise salute while clicking the heels of his boots together and calling out "Sir!" in a clear, strong voice, with a heavy upper hive Kriegen accent.


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

Alvarius sat at the small desk in the corner of the tent he had been ordered to share with the Krieg Hauptman, Siegdorn Von Halsen, drinking amasec and going over regimental reports. _What a sad state this regiment is in_ he thought, refilling his cup and glancing over at the captain. They had briefly spoke earlier, sharing amasec and getting to know one another. Alvarius liked the captain, as he was one of the few competent soldiers Alvarius had found in the unit so far. Rubbing his eyes, Alvarius went back to the reports, seeing for the first time that there was another commissar attached to the regiment. Making a small note to meet this man, Alvarius heard a cough from the entrance of the tent.Turning he saw a whelp of a man with only one leg standing at the entrance of the tent.

"_Uhh Captain_" began the man

"_Hauptman, not Captain_" Seigdorn snapped, eyes narrowing "_And salute when you address a senior officer!_"
_
"Oh yes Sir, of course Sir, sorry Sir_" the young soldier stammered out, glancing in fear over at the Commissar. "_Its the Colonel Sir, he wants to see you, now Sir_" said the cripple, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Getting up, Alvarius smiled "_ Good luck meeting with that pathetic excuse for an officer Seigdorn._" he said to the Captain.

"Ja, perhaps you shoot him soon, yes?" he heard Seigdorn say, as the man rolled his eyes. 

_" I don't like executing men for nothing, but for him, I would make an exception."_ Alvarius said, chuckling at the thought.

As Seigdorn marched to the entrance of the tent, Alvarius looked to the scared looking one legged man who was still looking at him fearfully. 
"_I see fear and doubt on your face. Do not fear, for the emperor protects. Do not doubt, for that will be the seed of your undoing. Tell the colonel I request a meeting with the other Commissar of this regiment._" he told him before returning back to the reports.

After the Captain left, Alvarius sat back in his chair, nursing a glass of amasec. He knew that the summoning of the Captain certainly meant that they were going to be moving out soon, and he had to prepare his weapons. Draining the glass, he got up and removed his weapons from the trunk at the foot of his bunk. Sitting back down at the small desk, he began oiling his Bolt Pistol, making sure it was in good working order for the battles to come. After he finished with the pistol, he picked up a whetstone and began sharpening his Sabre. As he finished strapping on his weapons, he glanced dejectedly at the collections of reports on the regiment scattered around his desk. _a sad and sorry bunch_ He thought, shaking his head and pouring another glass of amasec.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

*Coronel Markham Stackhouse*

Seigdorn Von Halsen:

"Sir!"

Coronel Stackhouse looked up. There he was, the Krieger. Oh this was going to be fun. He didn't bother to return the salute. Why should a Coronel salute a Leiutenant?

Oh that's right. He wasn't a Leiutenant yet.

"Hello Kappy-tain, or however you Kriegers say it." He couldn't see his face for the gasmask covering it, but he would have sworn he saw the eyepeices darken with anger. Emperor this was satisfying, it was like being able to give the finger to every one of his old commanding officers.

"I have news from Segmentum Command. They have determined we have sufficent Captains for the regiment being formed, but regreattably not enough Lieutenants."

The look on Seigdorn's face was practically telegraphing his emotions. This was said "Why should I care?"

"Therefore, Segmentum Command has stated that as one of our most junior officers, you are to be reduced in grade to a Leiutenant and assigned to squad 13." He heard hollow laughter through the respirator, surely this was a joke?

The Coronel grinned as the smile slid off the new Krieger Leuitnant's face.


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Remaining stiffly at attention, Seigdorn's cheeks flushed at the Colonel's mangling of his title, it was he suspected, too much to hope for that a baseborn commoner could master the linguistic variations of Kreigan Gothic. Still it was best to get this over with quickly.

"Therefore, Segmentum Command has stated that as one of our most junior officers, you are to be reduced in grade to a Leiutenant and assigned to squad 13.

Seigdorn began to laugh unsteadily and without much feeling, was this some kind of cruel jape, played on the foreigner? The blood then slowly drained from Seigdorn's face as the full seriousness of the Colonel's words hit him. He was in shock, mouth slightly agape. 

"Sir..." he began before loosing his losing his voice, mouth opening and closing several times. Swallowing his fury, his hands balled tightly into fists at his side he stood stiffer, shaking. He could swear that this jackanape was enjoying his humiliation. 

"Permission for dismissal Sir?" Seigdorn managed to get out, biting off the words, bile colouring his voice. Even through his fullface respirator the disdain and anger was clear in his tone. Seigdorn felt a decided need for some amesac.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

The Coronel grinned. 

He had the Kreiger riled. Damn it felt good.

"Permission granted, Leiutenant."


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

"Permission granted, Leiutenant." 

Nodding quickly in affirmation, Seigdorn crashed his heels together again, harder then necessary. He span around on the spot and walked away, his gait stiff, boots slapping against the floor. 

The guards shied away from his approach, though they couldn't see his face they could ready body language as well as anyman. Seigdorn's stiff, forceful walk, his fists clenching and unclenching was a clear warning for all to stay out of his way.

Suddenly a man collided into him, falling into the mud and dropping his stack of dataslates. "What is the meaning of this!?" roared Seigdorn, his simmering anger having found a target. Not letting the fallen man speak Seigdorn kicked a dataslate away that the man's hands were groping for, the screen flickering as the toe of his boot struck it. 

"Committing an act of assault against a superior officer!" "That's an execution worthy offence!" he continued, still screaming. The veins on his head were popping out as he vented his rage. The poor man looked up terrified and the Korps Officer struck him full in the face, his gloved hand cracking against the man's cheek. "I am however merciful" said Seigdron, his tone calming, "You will merely suffer the lash and be thankful for it". The commotion had drawn onlookers and Seigdorn motioned to two of them to carry his victim away. 

The outburst had done him good, though he still fumed. How dare that ape of a man, that disgrace for an officer, demote him; Seigdorn, a officer of noble blood, having earned his rank in battle, through blood and fire. To be a lieutenant again, the thought was beyond galling. 

Seigdorn finally reached the tent he shared with the Commissar and made straight for the bar. Snatching up a bottle, foregoing glasses all together, he swigged deeply, throat burning, all thoughts of Krieg efficiency gone along with his wounded pride.


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

As he sat contemplating where to start enforcing discipline in the regiment, Seigdorn came stalking back into the tent, obviously enraged, and began heavily drinking. Alvarius gave the man a few minutes to calm down before standing and walking over to him. "_Can't have you drinking ALL the amasec, now can we Seigdorn?_ he said as he calmly took the bottle from the officer, and poured him a glass. Motioning Seigdorn to sit, Alvarius took a seat as well. "_What news from the colonel?_" he asked.


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## Anilar (Aug 12, 2011)

_"Damn weather"_ Stubbs muttered several times, while he was oiling every part of his Heavy stubber in some fancy thick oily liquid the munitorium jerks had provided. It should protect and make the gun capable of working in the acid rain and mud of Urbine Secundus. We'll see stubbs thought looking back up at his new squadmates.

_"Of all the places I have been in my decade of battle, this is the damnest weather I have experienced"_ Stubbs said a little louder to the three men that he had shared tent with these few days, while the patchwork was being assembled. What a motley collection of soldiers they were. Some Catachan hard arse survivor, his scars telling stubbs everything. Some tall old steeljawed nobleman, who was even higher than the young Catachan. Stubbs had heard stories of big problems comming when Catachans and guards that had a more "civilised" way of thinking met. There hadn't been any troubles yet, maybe because the noble Volpone hadn't said much yet, other than the initial introductions they all had been through. 
And then there was one of the famed Elysian drop troopers. Something telling Stubbs that he wasn't quite the soldier he should be, but he couldn't quite but his finger on what it was. But a decade of travelling through regiments, meant Stubbs had seen most kind of soldiers. For some reason Stubbs was thankfull the man was one of the scouts, and therefor most likely not to be the one that was to protect Stubbs arse when they were to be deployed to the frontlines, where ever that would be. 

_"What you guys think, should we start a little pot on who dies first of this new Patchwork squad. 5 Lho sticks or so per nose. Personally ill bet on that cadian fellow Derek or whats his name."_


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

"Can't have you drinking ALL the amasec, now can we Seigdorn? he said as he calmly took the bottle from the officer, and poured him a glass. Motioning Seigdorn to sit, Alvarius took a seat as well. "What news from the colonel?" he asked. 

Breathing heavily Siegdorn nodded his thanks the Alvarius, clasping his glass with shaking hands like a man drowning. "My friend, you are my friend", he began, his voice dull and somewhat slurred from the amount of amasec he had had today. "The Colonel", he spat, a thick gobbet of phlegm landing on the floor, "has seen fit to relieve me of my rightful rank and has demoted me. I am now a Lieutenant, and a joke" he finished sourly. "He had shamed me and my House, my honour is besmirched. Were he not a superior i would challenge the knave a duel and cut him down for his impertinence." 

He stopped suddenly, aware that he was speaking insubordination to a political officer. "Forgive my tongue, Avarius, i speak unguarded and my temper is choleric". "Can you speak to him?", Seigdorn suddenly pleaded, a crazed gleam in his eye, a gloved hand reaching out to the other man's shoulder.


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

After listening to Seigdorn speak, Alvarius sighed, slowly got to his feet and walked over to his desk.

_" Unfortunately, there is little I can do. You see, in the reports given to me by the colonel's command staff, I noticed there are far too many Captains in this Regiment. As far as time in rank goes, you are the least experienced in that aspect compared to the others."_ he said showing Seigdorn the report. 

"You are right Commissar, i forgot myself. I am a soldier of my Emperor, if he means for me to prove myself again then so i shall."

Nodding, Alvarius continued
_"Sector Command made the decision, not the Colonel, and it is important you remember that. Although the Colonel is a spiteful ass, this was not his choice, he was simply the messenger. As far as experience goes, there are many other Captains that should have been demoted instead of you, you were simply the victim of circumstance. You made it to Captain once, there is no doubt in my mind you shall make it again. Trust in the Emperor my friend, and you shall go far." _

"Even though i cannot reconcile myself to the Colonel i can obey a directive from High Command. Though i do not like it, i shall do my duty, I am Kreig. Though perhaps you can shoot him anyway as a favour to me?" Said Seigdorn. 
Alvarius gave him a reproachful look, smiling slightly as Seigdorn laughed.

Standing and putting on his acid proof rain poncho, Alvarius turned to Seigdor _"Now come, let us go see this group of guardsmen you have been assigned to."_


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

" Unfortunately, there is little I can do. You see, in the reports given to me by the colonel's command staff, I noticed there are far too many Captains in this Regiment. As far as time in rank goes, you are the least experienced in that aspect compared to the others.

His gaze unflinching, Seigdorn took in Alvarius' words silently, mulling them over. Taking the proffered papers he read them, eyes scanning the pages, nostrils flaring. Finally he sighed heavily, before speaking. "You are right Commissar, i forgot myself. I am a soldier of my Emperor, if he means for me to prove myself again then so i shall."

The Commisar nodded, continuing, "Sector Command made the decision, not the Colonel, and it is important you remember that. Although the Colonel is a spiteful ass, this was not his choice, he was simply the messenger. As far as experience goes, there are many other Captains that should have been demoted instead of you, you were simply the victim of circumstance. You made it to Captain once, there is no doubt in my mind you shall make it again. Trust in the Emperor my friend, and you shall go far." 

"Even though i cannot reconcile myself to the Colonel i can obey a directive from High Command", vowed Seigdron. He then flashed a melancholy smile, "Though i do not like it, i shall do my duty, I am Kreig." "Though perhaps you can shoot him anyway as a favour to me?", he jested in black humour. 

Throwing up his hands Seigdorn laughed darkly when the Commissar shot him a look. 

Turing towards Seigdorn again Alvarius said "Now come, let us go see this group of guardsmen you have been assigned to."

Nodding Seigdron stood, clapping Alvarius on the shoulder before attaching his full faced re-breather, amber lenses gleaming as he lifted the tent flap, striding out with the Commissar. 

"Yes, let us see their worth".


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## Aramius (Oct 14, 2010)

Alexander sat on his collapsible cot, pieces of his dis-assembled M36 Pattern Lasrifle on either side of him, the weapon's barrel gently sitting in his left hand, with a small once-white rag held in his right, carefully applying a protective oil into the barrel of the lasrifle, and smiled very slightly, his emerald green eyes momentarily losing the wearied, alert look of the veteran as he did so. _"No doubt the Munitorum adepts or Tech-Priests would be chanting away, worried about the Machine Spirit... but I figure twenty years together is long enough to do away with formalities, eh?"_

As he placed the barrel lightly next to him, to allow the oil to set into the metal so that it might protect it from the acidic downpour, he mused, automatically picking up the lasrifle's metallic stock, dipping the rag into more of the oil, and beginning the lengthy process anew. It had been merely days since his regiment, the 249th, had at last met its ending at the hands of the Ork. _"And may the most Holy Emperor burn their Xeno souls for that..."_ he thought, the smile fading from his face, the look of wearied alertness once again almost etched on his face. Yes, he felt a degree of sadness at the loss of the 249th, the loss of his fellow Cadians, even at the loss of the Carapace Armor he had once borne as a Grenadier. Despite all those losses, though, he still had his old, battered, war-wearied M36 Pattern Lasrifle. He could even remember the first time he had held it, back when he had joined the Cadian Whiteshields.

Alexander shook his head slightly, shaking himself out of his musing, and cast a critical eye on the stock, daubing on more oil at a spot he had missed, before setting the stock down alongside the barrel. Sitting down once more, he unsheathed his bayonet, drawing it level with his eyes for a moment, eyes questing for nicks or imperfections, before lowering it to the rag and its protective oil, eyes looking to the three others in the tent.

As was his custom, he had yet to talk to his immediate squad-mates. He preferred, instead, to observe, get a feel for their personalities from afar. The first of them had the physique of a brawler, and the look too - well-defined muscles, scars, close-shaven hair, and, if that was not enough, the short-sword he kept at his side. The eyes, however, told the most - he saw in them the same thing his old squad had shared, that he himself often had - a look of weary alertness, the tell-tale sign of an experienced warrior. The second one, however, sparked a small feeling of wariness in Alexander - he looked, and seemed, like the average soldier, and his armor, though repainted, had minute features which suggested he was a Cadian, or at least, from a Cadian regiment. His expression seemed fixed into preternatural concentration. His eyes, however, were the feature that sparked the wariness - it was the way he stared. It gave, at the least, a feeling - a suggestion that he was thinking of all the different ways he could kill you. He would give the younger soldier the benefit of the doubt, for now at least, but still... a good soldier never ignores his gut. And Alexander's gut said that the younger man was someone to watch.

There was also another 'bunkmate', as it were, who was not with them - a woman, and, judging from the weapon he had seen her wielding, their squad marksman. As she was the lone female in the tent, a shade had been set up around her cot, to preserve what little degree of privacy there could be afforded in an Imperial Guard encampment, even one as rudimentary as this one. Alexander had already decided, of course, that he'd keep an eye open during the nights they spent in this tent - after all, while most Guardsmen were men of decency, there would likely be some who would see the risk as worth taking, and might decide to take... 'liberties', with their sniper's person. Naturally, as an Imperial Guardsman, and a Cadian, such a thought disgusted him.

For some reason, her face seemed somewhat familiar to him, though, and yet, he could not place it. It was a familiarity that he had shrugged off, for now, at least. She did, however, strike him as distant; _"Then again, I'm one to judge where that's concerned, aren't I?"_ He smiled slightly at the self-deprecating thought.

Sitting his now well-oiled bayonet down, he leaned forward slightly, glancing to the two Guardsmen he shared the tent with, and quietly introduced himself. "Alexander Donovan, from the 249th Cadian. You guys are...?"


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Drum
The rain fell in sheets, rippling off the fabric, burning rain, seering rain, it pounded at the fabric, a mild backdrop to the heavy silence that fell between the 4 of them.

4 men... 4 regiments... 4 styles of war, bonded roughly together by sheer circumstance, pushed within under the canope.

2 beds lay empty... where there more to come, did yet more shattered units march under the stars.

He didn't doubt it.

If only it hadnt been rain to strip flesh from skin, to seer and burn holes through to his very bones.

He could do with a wash, to sluice the mud that caked his boots and vest in thick sludge.

He sat, perched on his trunk, refusing to soil his bunk, to soil the one clean pleasure he had, left to him.

He doubted that would be long, they would come for them, test there fragmented strength, or command would push them forward, desperate to make up the lost yards, to recapture some face from this farcical display.

A farcical display that had left him alone, a squad dead upon the battlefield, friendless alone with the nobles, rendering from affluent worlds, young, barely blooded.

True he was not too experienced, his blood oath still raw and fresh, it's impact powerful, yet he had been fighting longer than most of them, had lost as much as any of them.

Drum.... drum, the thumb of his heart beat echoed the pounding of the rain.

Then the silence splintered, broken by a man working a cloth along a heavy stubber, his movements smooth and assured

A cynic by his tone, yet not as comfortable as his demeanour portrayed, his conversation fragmented, seeking to break the hostile silence between them.

"What you guys think, should we start a little pot on who dies first of this new Patchwork squad. 5 Lho sticks or so pr. nose. Personally ill bet on that cadian fellow Derek or whats his name."

Bored, his muscles taught he raised his arms above his head, before plunging to the muddy ground, arms working as he staved boredom, pushing up, slowly tensing, arms tight against his body, chest burning as he ripped through the first set

"I'd rather have a pot on who survives" he growled "no loser that way, even if he looses, he's a lucky bastard"

Drum drum, the canope demanded another, a second set, biceps bulging chest heaving

He looked around the tent, eyes falling on the kid, probably older than him,eyes haggard and worn, the markings of the 51st Elysian Drop Troop Regiment upon his uniform.

Tired eyes, eyes that had seen too much for a young mans mind.

"I'll have 5 on him" he nodded at the kid in the cornor, "to survive"

He might loose 5 smokes, but it might afford the kid in the cornor some confidence, might help wipe the tiredness from his features, the hope that he might survive this hellhole.

Especially if he was going to be out on recon with the kid, an edgy kid with a blade and rifle at his back.

No no, he did not like the sound of that.

He didnt like the look of many of his squad, particularly the commissar that reeked of stale booze.

A man tasked to enact justice out on the lash, he didnt need a rifle at his back, he was bound in blood, the thought of desertion a stain on his honour.

"And 5 on the commissar to take the bullet"

Or so he hoped.

He tossed the sticks onto the stubber boys bunk

Good job he didnt smoke


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

The mashed together medical facility was rather silent now.

For the moment, screaming guardsmen, panicking medics and the running boots of friends and unknown rushing to carry wounded to the bunks.
For the moment, it could only be heard in Thrius head.

Someone was cleaning the floor with a wet, sickeningly red mop that slopped over the floor.
It was hard to tell if the floor even got any cleaner.

Thrius was sitting on an empty bunk, once again he had fallen into a melancholy state and simply stared out a window.

The sad guardsman was left alone, Payne knew that Thrius did good work, he took care of those small problems actual medics didn't have time to do. And he was appreciated for this.

All that the sad man asked for was to have his silent moments of solitude.
No one felt good disturbing him anyway for some reason.

Staring out the window, he could see the shape of the government mansion, such a sad state it was in, the sickly coloured sky rained oozing acid on its delicate marble, and fine wood structuring.

Mud covered the ground, and a few blurry shapes was walking around on the courtyard.

But Thrius didn't see this, he saw the cobblestone path up to the shining mansion, the golden sun casting a beutiful golden sheen over the wonderful gardens.
Nobles in fancy dresses milling about. And the ceremonial patrols of the finely clothed palace guards, in their gilded carapace and ceremonial halberds.

Suddently, a conscript knocked over a urinal basin, the loud clang instantly sent Thrius out of his trance.

-"Sorry, i didn't mean too..... I....." The young whiteshield hastily tried to apologize but went silent when the tired and sad eyes of Thrius looked upon him, he was hushed it seemed.

Thrius was back in reality, and what a hell it was. The blood on the floor, on his hands, in the mud.
The mud was everywhere, Thrius was by sheer luck the more clean in the company, but his uniform was still more brown than grey.

Thrius walked up to Payne.
-"I need to take a break." Thrius informed.
-"What for?" Payne quisically asked, his eyebrow raised.
-"Urinal emergency." Thrius spoke, followed by a slight smirk and a nod in the general direction of the toilets by Payne.
-"Be back in 5." was Payne's only words.

Thrius stared at himself in the mirror some time, how tired he looked.
His wife would kill him if he saw him like this. He almost laughed, but then realised..... his wife.

He heard Mr Dornes muttering in a cubicle. Probably some bad beans...

Thrius didn't care, he did his business and cleaned his hands.
Something that everyone that had been around Thrius more than a few minutes was that seemed to mentally wander off on a regular basis.

Thrius noticed how long he had been washing his hands and quickly turned it off.
He was finished before Mr Dornes.... must've been some harsh beans he thought.

Thrius got back to medical and began to receive the new group of men in need of attention.
He began to fix up bruises, and cleaned acid burns.

He was liked by most, perhaps because they felt sorry for him, he just gave out a sort of aura to feel sorry for him, and only the most steelhearted of men didn't.


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

“Verdammt,” Korporal Nathin Strasse silently cursed as he switched through vox channels on his vox-caster.

Many were filled of static, garbling the transmissions. He had seen this before on other worlds, on Vayros. It was a common tactic of the vile traitors that consort with Chaos to use sorcery or vox-chatters to disrupt communications. Though it was not as bad as he had experienced in the past when the vox had been all but useless due to Chaos disruption. However it would also be prudent to give his vox-caster a thorough inspection regardless.

Carefully he pried open the front panel of the vox-caster, taking his time to examine the inner workings of the device while he adjusted several of the knobs. Suddenly an ear-piercing wail erupted from the vox and his mircobead.

"OFF! OFF OFF OFF! Nathin shut her down!" the squad sergeant shouted from his bunk.

Nathin said nothing as he turned off the vox-caster. It was definitely Chaos interference.

"You're trying to punish me arent ya boy? Take your time with your vox unit Nathin, the machine spirit is in great pain right now. If we had a tech priest I'm sure they could sooth it, but we're a tad lacking,” Sergeant Bashera said. “In the meantime, while you've got her open. Search through your kit for some plastic bags and twist ties. Take the plastic bags and double layer them over the bits that are being a bit too sensitive while whispering the rites of repair. Sounds silly as hell but my old long range vox caster had the same problem on Teshla Four. Then again I hope you don't get eaten by a man eating plant like he did causing us to dig down to its core just to dig the sap out. That was a pain."

Nathin could not help but roll his eyes from behind the lens of his mask. Did the man take him for some untrained PDF trooper? He was a soldier of Krieg, a soldier of the Death Korps. His vox-caster had long since been modified to resist the natural interference caused by this climate. Hell this was nothing compared to that of his homeworld. No that wail had caused by their enemies. The battles he fought in the Crusade thus far had taught him that much. There could be no doubt that they were sitting on the far edge of what was causing the inference.

But before he could responded to his superior the flap of the tent was pulled opened. "Whoever you are, you best have a damn good reason for breaking safety protocol and endangering your own health with this acid rain beating down on our heads,” the sergeant barked.

It was Specialist Thesus, the squad sniper clad in a protective poncho. Nathin still found it unsettling that the fighting men and women of other Guardsmen Regiments would willing keep themselves so exposed as they were. He hated going more than ten minutes without his mask and protective uniform. How they could walk around with such flimsy attire was beyond him.

“Ja, why have you come?” Nathin asked.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

"*Bloody, crappy weather. Why the hell can't this world be more tame for feths sake.*" Kate mumbled as she moved through the rows of tent and the mud heading for the Sergeants tent. Kate moved quickly, but carefully, making sure that she didn't knock into the scant people out and about. The weather was horrendous, acid rain poured down upon the encamped guardsmen, and Kate knew what long term exposure could do to her, she wasn't going to risk herself more than she had to.

She needed to get a new scope, her old one was damaged, it would still work but it would be best for her to get a new one. She wore her full armor for protection as she made her way over there, her sergeant may get pissed off with her request but she would have to put it in nonetheless. She remembered her old sergeant, that old bastard Dufrain. He had put her through so much pt when she came to him with a similar request, but in the end he had come through for her getting her a high powered scope. 

Ironically it was him who damaged the scope, well his falling body anyway. Kate tried to pushed the thought from her mind, her entire platoon wiped out, her sergeant, her spotter. Everyone. It had been hell for her, so had this assignment. She couldn't get to know anyone, they would all die eventually. They were all expendable pawns in a huge machine that was the guard.

She got to the tent that her sergeant and a corporal were sharing, waiting for a moment before boldly opening the tent once she heard both the voices ask who was there. "Whoever you are, you best have a damn good reason for breaking safety protocol and endangering your own health with this acid rain beating down on our heads,”

Kate looked at him, coming to attention, *"Sorry sergeant, the matter may seem a little trivial, but I kinda require a new high powered sniper scope. My scope is damaged from my last assignment. I need permission to access the armory."* She said this, hoping that he would listen to her and not punish her for breaking protocol. She hoped she could get back to her bunk soon, she could talk to her bunkmates even though she was the only female in the squad.


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## Kingfield (Jul 25, 2011)

Marus had been quiet for a long time, as always. He shared his tent with three other men, none really capturing his attention for long enough to make an assumption on their personality. Another drag at his lho stick as he folded up his old Volpone banner, he touched the edges gently, treating the banner like a wounded soldier, as he closed the last edge and dropped it into his trunk one of his roommates spoke.

The words were meaningless at first, a complaint about the weather, Marus silently agreed but did not afford any words, the next part was about a bet on who would die first, this Marus found completely distasteful. His thoughts were broken as the catachan spoke now, the man did not seem overly displeased by the bet, simply changing the bet around a bit had been smart, then the bet on the commissars head was expected.

Marus remained silent for a few more moments, enjoying the sound of the deadly rain slamming into a tent that denied its purpose. He looked to the man with the stubber and nodded to himself. His hand trailed to his steel jaw and rubbed it gently in thought, then his eyes trailed to the catachan and again he nodded to himself, finally his eyes found the Elysian in the corner, this time his steel jaw curled into an awkward smile.
"Stu Beren" the sound of steel grinding together was enough to gain the attention "these five are on your head, such a big target with such a noisy weapon, sooner or later someones goin' to take a shot at you" with that he flicked his nearly done lho stick into the rain where it slowly disintegrated under the acid assault, another five found their place on the mans bunk.

As silence fell back onto the tense tent he laid back onto his bunk, once again his feet fell off the edge of the cot and he found it annoying that he kept forgetting to request a new one, for now he would just have to get used to resting his feet on his trunk at the end of the bed.


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

Dorian drew in a deep breath as Kate started talking. Trying to put his mind at ease as things didn't quite turn out to his fears with her. "Sorry sergeant, the matter may seem a little trivial, but I kinda require a new high powered sniper scope. My scope is damaged from my last assignment. I need permission to access the armory." Quirking a brow to her request he'd shift his head to one side to look atNathin, the distinct feeling that the kreiger didn't like him in the least, perhaps something to do with the suggestion for the whole plastic bag thing is what got him. He'd ask if the kreiger could blame him for asking bout the plastic bags, though in the end he knew the kreiger could blame him for the sky being purple. He liked the lad, he tried to make nice every once and a while, but he suspected that the only way to actually get anything out of him was to scream at the kreiger like a drill instructor, something Dorian didn't do lightly. Moving to his bunk he'd grab one of his canteens and take a good long swig of the one with the rather strong mix of Recaf. Pandorans were a bit odd with their Recaf. The combination of natural caffeinated leaves with detoxified death world plants and little bits of venom from various poisonous critters possibly gave a few people the jitters. For Pandorans, it was just a tasty drink, hell they had the gaul to make it carbonated. The toxins in it weren't enough to do more than leave your throat and tongue tingling for a bit after, but it was a sensation Dorian enjoyed.

"You know, should give you more credit. you're just trying to do your job. gotta try and keep moral up some how though" He did think his way was somewhat better than a commissars way of shooting the one complaining about something. Looking now to Kate he'd nod motioning for her to come in and out of the doorway, taking another swig of his Recaf and licking his lips at the taist. there had been one other guardsmen here at the base who had made the mistake of asking for a pandoran's Recaf, poor lad checked himself into medical ten minutes later wondering why his face was tingling. didn't help that he had a allergic reaction to one of the leaves either. "as for you, may want to get in out of the doorway, or flap way, however you decide to see it. may get a visitor soon. "

Tthe Sargent moved round his bunk to his locker, pulling out some requisition forms as well as a quill. as he began to write up the requisition forms he looked up to kate somewhat revealed. His mind flashing through all the reasons she could come in with complaints, his most dreaded one was rape, that one he hoped he'd never get to be honest. He'd be more content with her snapping and killing someone. "was honestly wondering how long it would take for you to come and see me kate. although to be rather honest im glad my fears didn't come true and someone try something rather dishonest with you. or for that matter steal certain articles of your clothing. that would be a stain on someone's record, sent to the penance for stealing a lady's undergarments. " His eyes glancing back down to fill in the rest of the details on the forum he'd think for a moment as he tried to recall if she had a microbead or not. Never the less he diligently filled out the forum hoping she'd settle down some. Then again with his luck things would only get worse from here. "Kate, you'll get you're new scope, and we'll get it by the end of today. but in order for you to get it, i'll need something from you" His body shifting some as he adjusted his right side of the hermetical seal around his throat, little bits of steam escaping as he did so. His armor was acid burn free, but his uniform wasn't so lucky. It had a few burns and holes in it from the weather, though compared to most other guardsmen, he wore the holes with a odd sense of glee.

Looking up to kate finally getting out as he noticed she was still standing at attention despite all this. "and in the name of the throne girl, at ease for pete sake. you aint on no firing line and their aint a bunch of officers with a stick up their ass looking at ya. just you, me, and good ol Nathin here. although in hindsight, i don't think he likes me." He'd pause for a moment, letting her ask what he wanted of her, though when her question came he didn't get a sick and twisted grin like some pervert or some other form of body language that would say he'd be punishing her. He would have added that he thought Nathin had a stick up his ass all the same, but didn't think that bit was called for. 
(space here for response)

"i want lintel kate. and seeing how i think the commissars here would look poorly to me putting a few one way microbeads in the various tents here, was wondering if you'd help me with that. i need to get to know the boys and girls of this lot. so far only ones who talk to me are the other Pandorans. sure you've seen em all the same. they're the crazy bunch playing some game despite the rain. then again, you may just think they're doing grapnel tests. it is though, in fact a game. " Dorian would turn round and move to his locker after setting the the documents on his bunk for a moment. Pulling a pair of Lho-stick from his locker he'd offer one to kate and one to Nathin, and he'd wait till the two took them, a crude form of peace offering if there ever was one. "you tell me about three people, three of your fellow guardsmen, dont care who. now i aint looking for no dark secret the commissar may be intrested in, i'm just looking to getting to know the people i'll be traveling with. and to be honest, asside from the boy with one leg, you're the only other person who's come to this tent side from Nathin here."he'd let his words sink in some, taking the time to finish filling out the forums he'd placed on his bed before adding "so there it is, only thing you got to give me is a few words. then, i'll walk you down to the armory and get that scope for you. and if you don't have a microbead, i'm getting one of those for you as well."


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## Lanterns & Torches (Jul 24, 2011)

It had never rained back on Thracian IV. While, technically, this was not normal rain, Einar still relished the sound of the rain as it pelted the tent canopy. Usually, he liked to be out in the rain, as it was a feeling he had come to find a small comfort in, but current circumstances dictated that he remain under some form of roof, given the harmful acid rain that now fell upon the death world of Urbine Secundus. 

Sitting on the edge of his bunk in his fatigues which consisted of baggy trousers and a short-sleeved t-shirt, which happened to be too small for him, he had been busy for the last half-hour cleaning his lasrifle and laspistol, ensuring they were ready to be used in an instant should the need arise. Given the current climate, he wished it wouldn't, as fighting in the pouring acid rain was one thing he certainly did _not_ want to experience. 

On the other hand, sharing a tent with _three_ Cadians was something he would actually prefer the acid rain to, and since he had arrived in the tent, not a word had been said. Surprisingly, however, it hadn't been as tense as he had thought it would be. Perhaps they didn't know of his exploits in his last regiment, or even what that regiment was for the matter. If so, he wasn't going to bring it up. He had been disciplined enough times for attacking fellow soldiers, and since one of his bunkmates was in fact a woman, he really hoped the situaion didn't boil over into a brawl. If so, he was fairly certain he would be able to handle himself, but the other two men he shared the tent with seemed capable in their own rights, especially the dour, grim-faced one who looked like he'd rather be fighting anything than talking. 

"Alexander Donovan, from the 249th Cadian. You guys are...?" 

He looked up in mild surprise as the older soldier, more a veteran, spoke the question to the tent's occupants. He glanced to the other soldier, who didn't respond immediately, so he figured he would answer first. 

"Einar," he said simply, "the 298th."

To keep the arguments to a minimum, he provided little more than a simple answer. Setting his weapons to the side on his bunk, he gripped the hilt of his short sword firmly in his hand, sheathed at the right side of his waist as it was, and took comfort in the familiarity it brought him. Ripping it from the sheath swiftly with a warrior's skill, he set it flat across his legs as he pulled his equipment satchel open and rummaged inside for the whetstone he used to sharpen it, before he set about the task with practiced ease as he waited for one of his bunkmates to respond.


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## brendxb (Jul 18, 2011)

"I'm telling you there not going to do it again" Brig continued
"They did last time what's stopping them from doing it again?" Boomer argued
"The fact they've seen us in action, and how we've help take down two bloody stompas and an entire green horde" Brig replied
"You think that will help our case? When has being a good soldier stopped or so much as make a comisar bloody consider executing one of his own men!" Boomer yelled.

The two marched in silence with the other twenty plus men, Boomer knew Brig was just trying to cheer him up from the idea of command separating them but they'd have a hard time sending him with a squad of strangers all to die in days length. The entire march had mostly consisted of arguments or an equal hate at the generals for sending them both to a chaos world straight after 10 bloody and death filled years of fighting the Orks on the front lines and watching friends die without so much as a week of rest and only a tin medal for adding in the 'planets defense'.
"you know what I think might be good about this planet?" Boomer asked
"Besides the acid rain" Brig joked
"Yeah very funny" Boomer half chuckled "But we're probably not going to be stuck with another Comissar after the last one." he added
"Yeah I guess no executions is a thing to look forward to" Brig said.

After another hour of marching the ruined city and the guardsmen camp came in to site and in another 20 minutes they were at the gate and both Brig and Boomer felt the sad familiarity of war.


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## Yru0 (May 9, 2011)

Brig sighed as he trudged on through the mudded ground, the entire convoy had been forced to march through the hostile terrain of the accursed planet from the landing area back behind the imperial lines, the pilots cited that they could fly no closer due to the ravaging storms that plagued the chaos world and those that fought upon its surface. Brig knew better, he'd heard the rumours, he'd spent his entire childhood eavesdropping on gangers on where the next fight might take place, and where the ripest battlefields were for scavenging, and it didn't take a genius to figure out one simple fact, nobody wanted anything to do with this regiment of the Guards unwanted, the men and women who had survived where none were supposed to. 
"You know what might be good about this planet?" Boomer chimed, his gloomy outlook temporarily replaced by his usual good humour, "Besides the acid rain?" Brig replied stonily, shaking his supossedly 'acid rain proof' poncho, no doubt a product sold to the guard command as a cheap and efficient solution to complaining guardsmen, courtesy of their local forge world, well for all it's worth it didn't work all as well as the pampered officers cuddled in their command bunkers must be told they do. Brig smiled as he saw all the soldiers whom he had fought for all those years alongside, well those that were left, leaving much of the 'escort' squads gasping for breath at their relentless pace, ten years dodging ork shells every morning definitely kept one's fitness levels up.
"Very funny." replied Boomer, a grin plastered on his face, "But we're probably not gonna be stuck with a commissar after the last one." Brig hastily repressed a laugh, joking about their late commissar's untimely demise due to 'sever morale issues with the chain of command' was not the right way to go about impressing the many eyes that undoubtedly watched the soldiers of this world for signs of taint, but by god the old sod deserved it, he'd executed a dozen men when there were hardly two hundred of them left on the planet! "Yeah, I guess no executions is something to look forward to." Suddenley, Brig grimaced in pain, "Darn that forest! I think a branch rippped a whole in my poncho!" The searing pain singed, but he had suffered far worse, when they had been making their way through the decaying landscape, it had seemed as if the trees themselves were intentionally making their lives more difficult, there had been twisted ankles and other relatively minor injuries all compounded by the somewhat uselessness of their ponchos, nonetheless, Brig thought to himself, the regimental medic must be eagerly awaiting their arrival.

Brig sighed as he looked upon the unkept camp, he was not used to such posts, despite having fought for nigh on a decade in the guard, the soldiers of the Vardan Rifles had spent that entire time pinned down on the bloodied world of Boucheroc, their homes had been the elaborate trench and tunnel network they had constructed, one would only stick their head above ground when killing was on their mind. The 19th Gregorian Reserves, Brig didn't know what to make of it, Cadians, Catachans, Krieg even some Pandoran Crabs all milled around the base, the most foreign soldiers he'd met since his redeployment was a man from a farming colony on a small system not ten lightyears from Vardan, this was something else alltogether. 
"Well Brig, I guess this could be it." sighed Boomer, "Don't get yourself killed you little snitch, aye?" Brig looked at his old friend, and decided that there was no way any commander would dare split this team up, "Boom, there ain't no way that's happenning for two good reasons, first off, we're the best darn weapons teams this side of the Galactic Core, and second of all, no officer would want a commissar killer running loose on his base." Boomer slapped him on the back, "Too right, we're the Vardan Rifles, always were always will be, they left us on that world to rot and we've come back to spit in their faces_." 19th Reserves watch out_, thought Brig, _The man's back, _"Come on, we've got a doctor's day to ruin."


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

As the sergeant and the sniper specialist talked amongst themselves Nathin’s full attention was upon his vox-caster. Their idle talk was unimportant to him even when his name was brought up. Honestly he found non-Kriegians to be rather strange and things often talked about to be equally strange. When Dorian offered him a Lho-stick he took it but not to smoke it. Few Kriegians smoked regularly, most due to the fact that since early childhood they were drilled to keep their masks on as much as possible. One could never tell in the bunkers when an air seal failed and poisoned air flooded in. However Lho-sticks were useful for trading with non-Kriegians for materials.

“And to be honest aside from the boy with one leg, you're the only other person who's come to this tent side from Nathin here,” the sergeant said to Specialist Thesus, his tone almost joking.

Kriegian merely shrugged his shoulders before closing up the vox-caster.

"So there it is, only thing you got to give me is a few words. Then I'll walk you down to the armory and get that scope for you,” the sergeant said climbing from his bunk. “And if you don't have a microbead, I'm getting one of those for you as well."

“Wait,” Nathin called out as the pair began to head to leave. “Bring me the scope Specialist Thesus.”

Kriegians did not believe in throwing away _anything _that could be fixed or scavenged for parts. If he could fix the scope he would, not he'd strip it for any useful working components.


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## Otep (Mar 18, 2008)

Dornes didn’t even want to look at the time. It had haunted him all day; especially after he took the T3s.

Running about was the nurse. Cory couldn’t remember the man’s name for the life of him. Their interactions were very short and limited to fetch me this or that. The man worked his ass off and Cory respected that in any person. 

“Hey Payne, tell the nurse I’m out for the day. When he has a minute I owe him a smoke or a drink.” Cory smiled slightly. A good cup of anything strong sounded fantastic right now.

He carefully strolled over to the make shift living quarters in the medical facility. Cory grabbed his rifle, respirator and poncho, time to find some of his squad members. That or the supply sergeant, which ever came first.

The acidic rain started to lighten up, most likely building up it’s reserves for a huge down pour as it has been doing for the last 2 days. Cory walked to a tent with what looked like it had several people hanging about.

Cory waltzed up to the entrance and slowly made his way in. in the room he could clearly make out a vox caster what looked like a sergeant from some foreign system and a female. The rest of the people in the tent didn’t catch his attention, appearing to be run-of-the-mill soldiers.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to know where to get a Mars Storm smoke around here would you?” glancing around the tent Cory felt odd. No familiar faces, not even a cohesive military appearance. Simply the scraps of fallen companies thrown into a hell hole and left to rot. Most likely yet another “Key strategic asset” by some officer’s decree.


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

When getting back to the medical, he saw Mr Dornes talk to Dr Payne, and quickly leave.
Dornes must've hurried back to be here before him, but Thrius wasn't known for hurrying, and you could easily outrace him.

When Payne saw Thrius he waved Thrius over.
-"Dornes left, so that means you'll have to work double for a while." Payne informed, he was met by a sad face.
Just when Thrius was about to begin, Payne continued.
-"Oh, and McMullen, Dornes said he owed you a smoke or drink for your hard work."
Thrius answered with a rare smile, someone at least seemed to care.

When getting back to work, he thought of Dornes, he seemed like a nice guy, but with a temper at times. Often going to the bathroom in the most unpractical of times.

Must have a bad stomach. Or be sensitive to something in the rations.... poor guy.

20 new arrivals was expected, and Thrius prepped as good as he could for acid burns and bruising.

Payne noticed that Thrius wandered off again, but didn't care. The help was good enough and the pauses didn't last for long. And he had more important things to concentrate on.

Like that blown of leg at bunk 2, or gunshot at bunk 5.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Kate still stood in the entry way of the tent, the acid rain pattering down upon her. truth be told she would rather be inside the tent right now, but she would have to wait and see if the sergeant allowed her to come in or yelled her away. He didn't respond to her question straight away, being a pandoran he was a bit of a thrill seeker, and Kate had heard the rumours of the person that had tasted some of his "native beverages" and ended up in the medicae. The sergeant took a swig of that, and Kate was very relived that he did not offer her any, she didn't fancy a trip to the medicae herself.

"As for you, may want to get in out of the doorway, or flap way, however you decide to see it. may get a visitor soon."

She nodded her head and eased in small frame in out of the damned rain into the tent. She did not like the planet much, the acid rain could cause acid burns if you were out for over an hour, though it appeared to be less for the short Kate, well in her mind anyway. 

She saw with relief that the sergeant had in fact retrieved some requisition orders and started to fill them out, though he was taken back by what the sergeant said next. "Was honestly wondering how long it would take for you to come and see me kate. although to be rather honest im glad my fears didn't come true and someone try something rather dishonest with you. or for that matter steal certain articles of your clothing. that would be a stain on someone's record, sent to the penance for stealing a lady's undergarments. "

She thought for a second, her tent was full of Cadians, they wouldn't try anything, well if they did then she might put a bullet through their heads. *"No sergeant, I don't think anyone would try anything, if they did they would end in the medicae."* She replied half jokingly, she wasn't sure but she hoped he would take it as a joke, it would be easier than him start to have a go about her.

"Kate, you'll get you're new scope, and we'll get it by the end of today. but in order for you to get it, i'll need something from you, and in the name of the throne girl, at ease for pete sake. you aint on no firing line and their aint a bunch of officers with a stick up their ass looking at ya. just you, me, and good ol Nathin here. although in hindsight, i don't think he likes me." 

She slowly stood at ease, doubt had flickered across her face for the moment. She was unsure how to respond, the sergeant wanted more. It better had been extra pt, or her cleaning his fething boots as her other sergeant had made her do.* "Sergeant, what would you like me to do?"* He had waited for her to ask the question before he responded.

"i want lintel kate. and seeing how i think the commissars here would look poorly to me putting a few one way microbeads in the various tents here, was wondering if you'd help me with that. i need to get to know the boys and girls of this lot. so far only ones who talk to me are the other Pandorans. sure you've seen em all the same. they're the crazy bunch playing some game despite the rain. then again, you may just think they're doing grapnel tests. it is though, in fact a game. "

She looked at him, slightly relived at his rather odd request. She knew that it would be easy for her, she would only have to listen to convosation's, and it was hardly like the information that she presented to him would have any dire effect on her new comrades. but did she care if it did? They were all going to die sometime, it just depended on where and how. Personally Kate wanted to die on her homeworld, but not fighting on the lines or what not. The sergeant offered her and the Krieg a Iho stick, and she took it though she was unsure whether or not she should light it, fire hazard or something along the lines of that. If she burnt her sergeants tent down then she was sure she would get punished.

"You tell me about three people, three of your fellow guardsmen, dont care who. now i aint looking for no dark secret the commissar may be intrested in, i'm just looking to getting to know the people i'll be traveling with. and to be honest, asside from the boy with one leg, you're the only other person who's come to this tent side from Nathin here."

He let his words sink in, returning to the forms to finish them. Kate was convinced, if that was all that it took for her to get a new scope then so be it, she nodded her heard slightly before he continued.

"So there it is, only thing you got to give me is a few words. then, i'll walk you down to the armory and get that scope for you. and if you don't have a microbead, i'm getting one of those for you as well."

Kate nodded before speaking, *"Ok sergeant, I can find out some information for you, it shouldn't be too difficult to get a sense of people I think."* She wanted the new scope bad and what was asked of her was a small price to pay at most. The sergeant nodded and stood, the Krieg talking before they could leave. “Wait. Bring me the scope Specialist Thesus.”

*"As you wish Corporal."* She said as she pulled her poncho hood up and put her rebreather back on. It was a piece of crap but it protected her from the fumes created by the damned rain.


----------



## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Derek*

Derek was barely aware of his fellow squadmates speaking around him (maybe to him) so simply huddled up closer to the edge of the tents and clutched his lasrifle tighter. His face reflected focus and concentration like always but his mind was in fact a million miles away if it was anywhere, surrounded by the explosions and screams that had accompanied the destruction of his regiment. 

It was cold. It was so damn cold here because of all this mud. Why was it muddy? There wasn`t any mud before. It was wet as well, making him feel as though he had shat himself. 

Whatever. he tensed for a moment, forcing the images to leave his mind and give him a moment`s peace. He couldn`t wait for the officers to get their shit sorted and give them some damn orders. he didn`t like it here. He didn`t like this place, these people. He would fight and die for them and with them of course, the Emperor demanded no less. 

Even so, he just didn`t... like them.


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## Angel of Blood (Aug 18, 2010)

There was a time.

A time long ago. When Alexi Tyler...Scout...Elysian Drop Trooper......Coward. Was considered to be a shining star, destined for great things within the Guard. Marked out by his training cadre as one whose determination and confidence would take him far. Sure of himself, popular, a touch arrogant, but healthily so. But then, as if at the flick of a switch. Everything changed.

Now he sat curled up on his cot. Leaning back against the tarp, his cold grey eyes staring at the tent flap. Waiting. Waiting for the inevitable call to move out, out to the front, where death awaited them. Perhaps it would come this time. He was fresh out of excuses to get off the line, no way to go but forwards. Maybe this battle would be the one where he would finally meet his end he was so desperate to avoid. 

The rain had started as well, beating a steady rhythm that in his scared mind was transformed into the drum roll of an execution. His perhaps?

He disenchantedly smoked an Iho-stick. He didn’t particularly enjoy them or dislike them either, but he did find they helped to calm his anxiety somewhat. 

The grunt with the stubber spoke up, first to no one in particular about the weather, then to start a wager on who would be the first to bite it. He didn’t answer him at first, content to let the others pointlessly discuss the issue. Pointless because they were all going to die here. A ragtag company of survivors and outcasts thrown together to die. Why else wouldn’t they be dispersed back to their own regiments, if not for the fact that they were no longer wanted? They had been deemed expendable...well more so than usual and somewhere up high, the decision had been made to get rid of them all in one fell swoop.

His attention was caught when the Catachan instead bet some sticks on his survival, maybe in some attempt to lift the disquiet on his soul. It didn’t work. He flicked his flint flecked eyes at the other man though as he referred to him as ‘the kid’, taking another slow drag from his smoke before staring back at the tent flap once again. 

‘The kid’. Hell the Catachan barely looked as old as him, though it was hard to guess accurately going off his war torn and muscular features. The polar opposite of his own features. There was a time once when he was also muscular, able to keep up with the best of his unit. But he’d let that go over the years and his features were free of any serious scars or injuries, courtesy of his devotion to avoiding the worst of the fighting.

The Volpone added his own bet in, humorously on the stubber grunt. He let out a slow puff of smoke before speaking up for the first time, his voice still soft despite all the warzones, once again a result of not shouting across the battlefield and drawing more attention to himself

“I’m afraid i don’t have enough to make my bet, nor do I see the point in giving away perfectly good smokes when we’re all going to die here anyway.”

He lit another stick as he said this, taking a long draw to get it going.

“You’re all fooling yourselves if you think this is going to end well for any of us”

That was another unfortunate change to his personality that war had caused. Before he had been encouraging, optimistic, positive, had full belief in ‘Esprit de Corps’. Now he was a borderline malcontent and poisonous for morale due to his eternal pessimism and melancholy. Still, sowing it amongst the others was one of the few things that he still found entertaining in life.

He took another drag. Still staring, still waiting.


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## Anilar (Aug 12, 2011)

Stubbs was a bit surprised, the last regiment he had been a part of, had been some honourable soldiers from an unknown ice world. They had told him to bugger of when he suggested similar bets back then. But here the Catachan had gone along, even expanding on the bet. Then there was the Volpone steeljawed man who had bet on Stubbs himself, Stubbs couldn't help himself respecting the man, and a smile found its way to his lips.
The Elysian trooper refusing the bet, but his comment about death just mirrored Stubbs own thoughts, thou it seemed the Elysian didn't take the prospect of dying too well.

_"Guess im the one holding the pot it seems."_
Stubbs commented breaking his train of thought. Stubbs found one of his old ammoboxes, its metal casing and tightfit lid, making it perfect for keeping Lho-sticks dry and whole. Took the ten sticks and added 5 from his own stock. Then he took a piece of paper and a pen, with big letters he wrote The Pot on the top.

_"I will expand on my bet a bit like you did Shade, ill bet that Thrius the local trooper that helps over at the infirmary will survive."_ 
Stubbs felt sorry for the man, returning back home to a world ravaged by the great enemy. Stubbs could only imagine his own anger, if he was told that his own planet had been ravaged and invaded by chaos filth.

While writing down names on who had bet on who, Stubbs said to the others.
_"Remember to invite our other squad mates into this bet when you talk with them, there is room for a lot of Lho-sticks in this box of mine. What about you steeltooth you want to bet on a suvivor too, or will you keep to my head being blown off. And shall we let the bet go for a week from when we are sent out on a mission. ?"_


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

The Volpone's face relaxed from haughty distaste, fingers tickled his steel jaw in ponderance, eyes flickering round the room to meet each in turn before his sticks hit the bunk and he nominated the stubbers as the first to die.

The shade's eyes glinted in dry amusement, a gruff chuckle echoing from deep within his lungs met by the glinting smirk of the stubber gunner himself.

As one they turned to the last that sat curled on his cot eyes flicking between them and the flap, the reflexive moment repetitive, irritating, his very pores oozing the stench of fear around the billet. His voice was soft, hesitant at odds with the confidence projecting from the others.

A long drag, his words released amidst curls of pluming smoke, whisps dancing and spiralling towards the tent roof where it dissipated in the gloomy light

“You’re all fooling yourselves if you think this is going to end well for any of us”

His gesture had done little to improve the drop troopers sour mood.

Wasted smokes on a cowar... no that was too strong, no guarsdman could survive and stand for such an insult... a nervous cynic.

A nervous cynic that might be on recon with him... emperor protect.

Yet perhaps this was just nerves, a latent reaction from a harrowing experience, perhaps in combat, adrenaline would stir his heart.

He regretted his bet on the commissar now, despite the stench of stale liquor.

If anyone could do with a heart warming speech, needed to be instilled with the fervour of the emperor it was that kid.

Looking into his pack, he saw pack upon pack of smokes, rations stretching back years, some the contents of his dead comrades billets, found and stored as he sorted the belongings that would be sent back to catachan from the junk none would want to see.

Carefully he extracted a half empty pack, technically half full considering it had been empty before a impromptu poker game in the gloomy bowels of the troop ship. A journey that had taken his squad from Kato to the planet that would take his squad from him, their memories but a whisper, a wrasped call from vengeance, for blood upon catachan steel.

He would answer that call, the names of the dead on his lips, their time together in the emperors service hard in his heart.

In a smooth motion he tossed the half full pack up to the drop trooper

"Bet em or smoke em, you'll put em to better use than me"

He wanted to say something more yet terms of his failing bets stole his attention as the stubber gunner took up the conversation

"Guess im the one holding the pot it seems." 

The shade gave the slightest guffaw, a cheeky grin upon his face

" I trust ya as far as i can throw ya, but when your carrying that big bastard, its hard to argue"


"I will expand on my bet a bit like you did Shade, ill bet that Thrius the local trooper that helps over at th"e infirmary will survive. Remember to invite our other squad mates into this bet when you talk with them, there is room for a lot of Lho-sticks in this box of mine. What about you steeltooth you want to bet on a suvivor too, or will you keep to my head being blown off. And shall we let the bet go for a week from when we are sent out on a mission. ?"

"It's a good pool, but I'd rather my bet on the bullet were kept, anonymous, let us say i'd rather keep my brains in my skull before his get splattered."

His voice darkened a menacing whisper half to himself half to the room at large as the length of the bet came to question

"Have you seen the city. Its a bombsight. I dont reckon we'll be sent out, i reckon they'll come for us,"

a small shake of the head, let the bastards come, his fingers ran over the hilt of the knife in his boot and his frown uncurled, his humour resurrected

" but a week from the squads first kill sounds good to me"


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## Kingfield (Jul 25, 2011)

The back and forth conversation of the room was a welcome change to the silence they had all been sitting around in for days, it seemed a simple ice breaker could bring any group of men together, even if the subject was a little grim and yet at the same time oddly humourous. Marus felt that after the last few minutes he had gotten to know these men better than the last couple of days they had already spent together. 

The Elysians response did not surprise him, he had seen men like that before, seen too much war over too much time to continue on how they once had, it was a part of every soldiers life. Despite initial opinions he found himself warming up to Stu, the man seemed a little dim at first and since he introduced himself with the name of his weapon it had been hard for Marus to imagine otherwise, but the man didn't seem particularly stupid, time would tell. Then there was the Catachan, he would be hard to figure out, hard to form an opinion on, from what Marus could tell he had a good head on his shoulders and looked like he could handle himself in a fight, not to mention the fact he showed no hostility was refreshing, ussually regiments drafted from feral and death worlds didn't enjoy the company of a son of Volpone.

'Stubber' addressed him again, and in answer Marus barely picked his head up from the pillow, at the mentioning of his nickname his hand traveled up to his jaw again, sometimes it still felt like it was his own, but more and more often he was beginning to feel how alien it was on his body, too long away from the frontline.
"put five on that sniper..." he paused as he recalled her name "Kate to survive" snipers always lived longest, besides she was the only girl in the squad it would be a shame if she died.

"I agree, a week sounds good" the metal scrape of talking was beginning to irritate Marus' ears "and if the enemy is smart they will hide and hit us once we are in the city, if not they will attack us in the open field, either way my guess is im goin' have a lot of lho sticks by the end of this week" Marus smiled in an attempt to keep the mood light, but he knew the truth, from his experience not one man in this tent would be returning unwounded, a sadder truth was that there was a better chance only one man would be coming back at all after that first week.

"you know what, I'll put a whole pack down for you dying first Stu"


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

(just so people know whats going on, this was the update for me: _You are scouting out in the city outside the complex. You are alone, but there ARE heretics to kill. the city itself is built of mostly gray and white slate stone with bright green overgrowth rarely cropping up between the cracks. The heretics are outfitted thusly, they seem entirely naked but for white, filthy bandages wrapping them head to toe, covering this is what seems to be a large overcoat made of clear plastic for each one, a gas mask with thick glass lenses and chaos emblems scratched into the rusty metal and the tube connecting to a box strapped to their chests. Their weapons range from lasguns to simple knives. They dont seem particularly canny, the majority you meet are either looters still digging the corpse of the city or they're scouts. You have not yet arrived at the camp or reported in, your last orders from the inquisitor whom had sent you to Urbine secundus was to meet up with the nearest imperial force and aide them however you could. Contact was lost after that, permanently you think. Take it from there._)


Whisps of steam coiled off of Thavian's carapace armor, off of his hellgun. He watched through his helmet's black eye lenses that were dotted with the acidic water as he waited. He wasn't focusing on his eyes though, he was listening.

He could feel the hard surface of his hellgun's powerpack being pressed flat against the rock wall behind him. It was pushing back into his shoulder in return. His knees felt as if they could cramp any moment, staying so still for so long, holding up the extra weight of the powerpack and all of his equipment, half leaning backwards as he tried to meld with the wall.

A subtle roll of thunder from the gray sky above threw his concentration in the gutter. His thickly textured gloves, turned an even heavier black from the rain, gripped the bottom of his hellgun a bit more tightly at his loss. His lips were curled into each other, his jaw locked behind his faceless helm, trying to keep himself from talking for as long as possible.

A loud whisper escaped his lips, _"Jack! Vullo! what are your positions?"_

Of course, there was no response from his former comrades, and thank the Emperor he wore his helm, helping to silence his voice further.
_
"You know they're dead Thavian, your on-"_

His body stiffened and he sealed his lips shut again raising his hellgun to neck level, hearing the obnoxious murmuring of a heretic just around the corner. Shuffling plastic noises of the clear coats they had been wearing. He stared at the bright glint coming from the flat edge of his combat blade. He had tied one of his blades to the end of his hellgun, and the few rays of sunlight making it through the clouds above were catching on it.

A crunch of gravel and a wet punch was masked by the distinct sound of punctured glass. Thavian jerked the heretic back slamming its lifeless form into the ground next to him, out of view of any other heretics that may soon be following. He placed his foot carefully onto the rusty gas mask it wore, mud oozing over the left eye lense as it slid off the bottom of his boot. He then pulled his hellgun out from the other lense, where his bayonet had struck home.

He looked for a moment at the syrupy red blood covering the large combat knife as it was slowly washed away by the acid rain.
_
"Guess thats *one* thing this tainted rain is good for."_ he said quietly, forcing himself to hush up again. _"Burn the heretic"_ he muttered, grimacing at the fact that he didn't listen to himself again.

He looked around him again, taking in his surroundings. White and gray stone walls, nature reclaiming its rightful space. Though it was next to impossible to imagine the forms of the structures around him before they were blown to a beautiful mess. There was always something just as artsy about a city's corpse as there was its prime.

He heard some more of the heretics cackling, it sounded like they were aware of their missing friend already. His instincts took over, sending him into a roadie run next to a skinny stream that had slid its way between the buildings. His boots sloshed with each footfall. He was trying to avoid using his hellgun, for obvious reasons. He would have simply attached it to his power back and drawn his knives, but tying one to the end of his rifle gave him so much more reach. he came to the mouth of what must have originally been an alleyway. He slammed his powerpack back into the wall, peering around the corners. He noticed something odd, an intact street sign.

He could just barely make out the faded, blast scarred words. It was enough to recognize. This was the road he had been looking for, the road that led to the nearest Imperial camp site. His lips frowned deeply and he shook his head no but managed to say nothing. He let out a gasp, similar to a breath of disbelief exhaled before a human cries. This shouldn't have been his objective. How the _fuck_ did this happen? Why wasn't he heading toward an inquisition gunship right now? Or any gunship or transport with this squad?

_"Gillian, Red, on me!"_ He cursed himself in his head as he exited the alleyway and began jogging down the road, keeping his head low and his eyes peeled.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

Individiual updates this time folks! 

*********************************************************

There is a sound.

A crackling like a broken vox, one you can hear above the rain.

Then a violent scream.

Men rush to the source, throwing on dog-eared ponchos as they do so.

A flash of light, a tent catches fire, swiftly being compromised and smothered by the acid rain, the inhabitant rushing for relative saftey, screaming incoherently.

A flash of lightning, stained purple by warp energy strikes as the flames grow higher.
*********************************************************
Commissar Alvarius Kane: Well something is going on, do you investigate? Or ignore it?
Leuitnant Seigdorn Von Halsen: Do you go to see to your men? Or tend to the emergency?

*********************************************************

Medical Officer Cory Dornes: You hear the scream as well, you also see the fire. Do you go to investigate as well?
Private Thrius Mc'Mullin: You are still in the field hospital, but there will soon be an annoucement on the fire as well, you're right now considering sacking out like Payne offered, but what you do is up to you.
*********************************************************

The Vardan Collumn continued to march. 

Their journey was nearly at an end.

Their regiment broken up.

Their colours left behind.

Their battle honors forgotten.
*********************************************************
Specialist Jackson McLanahan,Specialist John Doe "Boomer": Since you both are rather inextricable, I will adress you at the same time. You're about to arrive at the depot. What do you do? Send me a PM when both of you are read to advance to the depot scene and I'll tell you what happens. And yes, the depot is actually PART of the Imperial encampment
********************************************************* 
Squad Sergeant Dorian Bashera: What do you do now? Are you heading to the armory? Checking out the squad? Running nude in the rain to see how long it takes to slough your skin off?
Specialist Kate Thesus: You're out and about, if you like you can head straight back to the tent and get introduced, or you can explore a bit, if you choose to, then know that you'll have to send me a PM and I'll give you your options.
Korporal Nathin Strasse: what do you do? Continue to tinker with the vox? Or something else?
*********************************************************
Private Alexander Donovan: The only advice I can offer is "Keep going!"
Private Einar Drusus: Same with you, keep going, tell us more! There is a 4 post maximum, but you can do alot with them.
Private Derek Derek: To be honest, I really dont know what to say, yeah it's a good first post but, all I can give you is, simply say get involved.
*********************************************************

More rain.

No matter how much it poured down, there was more of it. It had lightened up a bit, but, much like the lure of Chaos itself, it was only faking, the barometric equivalent of crocodile tears.

It managed to give a whole new meaning to the phrase "Hostile Enviroment"

Luckily, it didn't care much for the fabric of the tents, sliding right off like normal rain.

In a few ways, it was almost peaceful.

Which only goes to show that even weather can be a liar.
*********************************************************
Specialist Stu Beren: You've been stuck with the pot, how are you going to deal with that? Remember, these little cigarettes represent mens lives. That's got to be heavy.
Private Alexi Tyler: How do you take the very real chance you will not survive?
Private Alexis Grey: How does a catachan deal with acid rain and the prospect of having his life insurance being collected on?
Private Marus Johnson: Your reverse-psychology attempt at improving morale seems to be working, just remember that the commissar may not agree, how do you deal with the young'uns? 
*********************************************************

A stormtrooper without his squad.

In many ways it was like a carpenter without his hands.

Squad mates were practically raised from the cradle together, they were inside each other's heads so well it was a wonder to some they werent psykers, reading minds like that.

But more than likely none of these thoughts would occured to Trooper Rivett. 

Any stormtrooper had only one thing on his mind, it was the same thing that was always on his mind, the thing he was born for.

Complete the mission.

Now his mission was "Get to the relative saftey of an Imperial Camp and aide them in any way possible."

Simple. 

Except for the sudden clipped "BANG!" and the sound of a very solid slig ricocheting of the ground.

Snipers were on the hunt for the Stormtrooper.

That made things alot more complicated.
*********************************************************
Stormtrooper Thavian Rivett:
Take it from there, you are currently running flat out on the road out of the ruined city, the remains of the govenor's palace in sight, with the hustle and bustle of a Imperial Guard HQ. But at the moment, a sniper has decided he's going to make you another notch on his sniper scope. You may NOT kill the sniper, I would like you to be at the camp before the end of the week, so within four posts please.
What's next?


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

Thrius was mending some simple stuff.

The group of 20 hadn't arrived yet, and Thrius still had some time left on his watch so he kept on working.

Suddently, two distinct blows from the klaxons in the building and an announcement.
There was apparently a fire.

Thrius looked out a window, an 'lo, a fire in one of the tents.
Luckily it wasn't his tent, not that he kept anything important there anyway.

Thrius was tired, so much commosion all of a sudden, and a full day of work.
He decided to catch some sleep, and infromed Dr Payne, got his pack from the locker room and started the long walk for his bunk.

People were scattered around, running here and there, some were just watching and a few were working on putting the blaze out.

But Thrius didn't see that, he saw the heretics waste festival, where large bonfires was lit and praise to the emperor was given, and good food was eaten, and dances were performed.
It was a fun festivity, and he could see the fancy dresses as he walked by....

Suddently Thrius smacked into someone, and was violently cast into reality again.
-"Watch where you're going private!" The man yelled.
-"I'm sorry, so sorry..... sorry..." Thrius wasn't looking at the man, just apologizing and getting out of his way. He got away unscathed this time.

The rest of the trip would probably prove to be just as rewarding.

[OOC, Feel free to be the guy i walked into.]


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

As Alvarius exited the tent with Seigdorn, he frowned as they entered the rain. Fighting the forces of Chaos would be difficult enough, but having to fight them in this? Shaking his head, he continued to walk with Seigdorn towards the tents of his newly assigned squad. As they were walking, a sound floated through the air, sounding like a broken vox, followed shortly by a violent scream. "_By the throne, what have these idiots done now_" Alvarius said to Seigdorn, "_I must see what the fuss is about, feel free to continue on without me Lieutenant_" Alvarius said to him, turning and walking towards the sound of the scream.

As he turned he saw a flash of light, followed by a tent catching fire. Swearing, he ran towards the tent as a flash of lightning, stained purple by warp energy, struck. Drawing his bolt pistol and Sabre as he ran, Alvarius hoped that if indeed this was an incursion by the enemy, enough of his men rushed to help defend the camp.


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Seigdorn let out a grim chuckle as he stepped out into the acid rain, _Yes, just like home_, he mused. The air was thick and stale filtered through his full faced respirator, and everything smelled of rubber. They were sensations however that had been with him his whole career and he took comfort in them now. 

A strange distortion hit the air, like a broken vox, followed by a high scream. Seigdorn whirled to face the direction of the noise only to see a brilliant flash of purple tinged lightning and the flickering of flames. 

Alvarius turned to him and said "By the throne, what have these idiots done now" Alvarius said to Seigdorn, "I must see what the fuss is about, feel free to continue on without me Lieutenant". Before running towards the source of the commotion.

Seigdorn was sorely tempted to follow but knew that the Commissar could handle the situation. Duty came first so Seigdorn made for his new squad's habitation, ready to marshal them into action. His boots sank into the soft ud, throwing up congealed clods of dirt as he ran between rows of tents, treated canvas billowing in the wind.


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Derek*

Silence but for the pattering of rain. It was peaceful in a sense, but not in the way any sane man could want. There was a storm at the end of this silence, one that would engulf them all. There was something coming and it was going to be big. Very big.

There was an explosion. Everyone seemed to be moving fast, shouting and generally causing the spread of fear. There was no damn time to be afraid, idiots. Derek stood and slung his rifle, looking across the camp. Silhouettes of figures running to and fro danced across his vision as he took in the sight of the billowing flames. He briefly considered trying to alert his squad-mates to be calm, but dismissed the idea. 

_Useless sons of bitches._ He thought. He stepped forward and started to cross the camp towards the centre of the commotion, his helmet and mask protecting his face from the acidic rain as he ran. As he got closer he noticed the flames in greater detail. Something was wrong with them. They weren`t dying down? And since fucking when was fire _purple?!_

He noticed the commissar among the throng of soldiers moving towards the upset. Where was the lieutenant? Then he figured, the lieutenant was probably trying to gather the squad together, but they`d only go after the commissar anyway right? Would it really matter if he broke this little protocol to ensure that the commissar wasn`t facing danger alone? 

Hell with it. If loyalty was a crime, then justice can go fuck itself. He broke into a sprint, pulling up alongside *Alvarius* and readying his rifle. 

'...Commissar.' He said. '...I`m with ya.'


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

As the camp converged on the bizzare occurance an outside observer would be undertandably confused.

While there was a conventional blaze, slowly crackling and consuming the tent,One could see a fire, blazing purple like the lightning that had caused it. But, for some reason, it did not burn the tent. Indeed it did not even bother with it.

The source of it's fuel was a man screaming in agony.

A young soldier, Cadian, like much of the regiment from the look of his armor, was being burned to a crisp by fire that did not consume his clothing.

As the blaze rose and consumed him, the tent's inhabitant crawled out, gibbering madly, screaming inchoerently and in clear distress.

He was a young boy, perhaps 16, maybe even younger. His clothes were matted and filthy, clearly he put very little care into his personal appearance. His hair was black, cut neatly in a puddingbowl style. He wore brown robes, covered in fairly recent stains, the robes themselves had at one point been well made, covered in devotional prayer strips and wax seals, the symbol of a large eye embroidered on the chest in cloth of gold. Being dragged along his by his ankle was a cable connecting to a bizzare looking helmet, shaped like a bowl, bearing inquisitoral markings and purity seals, it's insides lined with flat panes of shining metal. 

From what you can see, as he screams for aide in a language beyond your ken, his mouth is lined with razor sharp teeth.
******************************************************************
Everyone who chose to investigate (if you're a latecomer, you can still join in, just do so before the end of Friday): What do you do? You may try to aide the dying soldier, the screaming boy, or attempt to put out the fire. Be forewarned the solider MAY NOT BE POSSIBLE TO PUT OUT, if you really think you have a chance and/or a creative soloution, send me a PM. Same applies to the tent fire for the very different reason of the rarity of potable water and the complete lack of nearby sand-buckets, while the acid rain seems to be smothering the fire, it isnt much at putting it out. Anyone who attempts to aide the boy should know that he will likely snap at you like a frightened dog, before screaming more in pain. Also, anyone who wants to try something else, send me a PM and I'll hear you out.


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

Suddently he saw a young boy crawl out of the tent, covered in purple fire, consuming his body..... and soul.

Thrius had seen something similar before, and quickly understood, this was no ordinary fire.

Where's a psyker when you need him?

[OOC, is there a psyker in the camp, apart from the boy. I'm gonna jump to conclusions out of character. Thrius shouldv'e heard of psykers abilities, and know of similar events. If this is god-modding, i'll... do something.]


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

Dorian put the finishing touches on the requisition forms, making sure everything was spelt correctly, and that everything was official. He'd take a sip from his canteen filled with recaf before slipping it into a acid resistant envolope and grabbing his las pistol before capping the canteen and looking towards the Kriegian. "Corporal, I've been thinking. Thinking about a few things" he said while he fastened the pistol's holster to his "uniform's" belt. "Been thinking that HQ don't expect us to live through this mission, not that they ever do. " His tone somewhat saddened as he contemplated this a bit more in his own head while he grabbed his Chainsword and it's sheath and lock it in place just above his air tank, hilt off to his right side. "Also been thinking that you don't like me very much, which prompts me" He noted with a bit of a grunt as he slung his rifle over his shoulder. "To try and get you a peace offering of some sort... Brandy maybe."

Grabbing his helmet and heading outside Dorian looked up to the sky. The droplets of acid rain splashing off of his helmet's lenses harmlessly. Looking up for a few moments Dorian was caught by surprise by vox crackle, though right as he was about to shout at someone over the vox, he realized that was no vox crackle... Split second later Dorian found himself drawing his rifle out of habit as he heard a scream. Tucking the requisition form in a pocket he'd try and locate where the scream came from, though it didn't take long as he saw smoke rise into the sky and lightning strike the camp, that was all he needed as he started charging towards the fire. though he didn't get far and soon skidded to a stop as he saw someone, an officer running towards him and where the rest of their squad was. "A Kriegian? " He'd whisper to himself as he snapped up a salute to the man.

"Good Afternoon Cap.... Good Afternoon Hauptman, Sargent Dorian Bashera reporting to the disturbance sir. Awaiting further orders. Though to be blunt sir, it's good to see you and not a Bloodletter this time." Dorian thanked the emperor he remembered what the Kriegers called the damn Captains. If there was one thing they had a pole in their ass about, it was their own terms. Hell, he remembered the last LT he had. Dorian had called him a Lieutenant once, and the bastard never let it down. his last Kriegian officer had ignored Dorian's words to the point it got him killed. not by the commissar who could have shot the man for insubordination, but by a lictor who decided to eat his head like a bagel.


There were probably two groups of people who would go round without the acid resistant poncho... The Krieg troops, due to their specially tampered and treated clothing, and the Pandorans, who's hermetically sealed armor was built with death worlds and space hulks in mind. Well that and storm troopers, but you saw them once in a blue moon.


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## Yru0 (May 9, 2011)

Brig frowned, the compound itself was nestled on the edge of the once mighty urban landscape, now the only building left standing was the imposing Governor's Palace, and even then it was far from it's former glory, although it certainly looked royal to the men who had been struggling to survive on the hellish battlefield. Ruins of once imposing structures lay scattered around the clearing where the Reserves had made their post, it lacked any proper defensive fortifications or scouts, with all the soldiers more concerned of staying out of the rain than watching for possible assault, and a poorly maintained trench system rendered almost useless by the relentless downpour of acid rain. All his life defense had always been key, whether it be making sure to keep your head down and your feet moving, or living for weeks at a time underground, away from the sunlight and murderous bombardments, but he had never before seen such a shamble, it was a juicy target, and undoubtedly some smart-arse commander had figured that the ruins surrounding the base would provide all the defensive positions they needed, but all Brig saw was that the entire camp was wrapped up into a nice and cozy kill zone, anything could be hiding in those pillars, and the defenders wouldn't know until the attack had already begun. Brig shook his head, well, what did he really expect? This was an army of men sent to die, no to win, not to succeed, not to fight another day, but sent to die because some fat bugger couldn't be bothered with the paperwork that represented a soldier's life. _Well, at least an ambush would be quick_. Suddenly, one of the meager 'patrols' that roamed the outpost motioned for the column to halt and a young and obviously as of yet inexperienced, guardsman spoke to the officer in charge of the Vardans' escort squad. Brig strained to overhear what they were saying, but he couldn't understand a word over the pounding rain, so he resigned himself to having to wait and see, just like the rest of the men. Eventually, the officer turned around to address the convoy of men, "We've been ordered by command to report to the weapons depot for requisition orders and standard procedure for the possibility of minor chaos taint." Brig couldn't believe what he was hearing, possibility of _taint?_ Things had just got a whole lot more interesting.


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Seigdorn slowed his pace through the slushy quagmire as he came to the Panderan Sergeant, before stopping in front of him as the veteran soldier snapped a salute in the pouring rain. 

"Good Afternoon Cap.... Good Afternoon Hauptman, Sergeant Dorian Bashera reporting to the disturbance sir. Awaiting further orders. Though to be blunt sir, it's good to see you and not a Bloodletter this time", said the man. Seigdorn didn't bother informing the Sergeant that his rank had changed, though a small smile was hid behind his gas-mask at the Panderan's excellent Kriegen pronunciation. 

A Panderan Sergeant for his new squad, that was interesting thought Seigdorn. Deathworlders famous for their resilience and adaptability they were one of the few regiments respected by the Death Korps. With a veteran and professional non commissioned officer such as Dorian, his new command may not be totally useless Seigdorn mused. 

Acknowledging the Panderan's salute Seigdorn spoke urgently, "I am you new commanding officer Sergeant, now where is the rest of your squad?" He continued before Dorian could answer, disapproval colouring his tone, "As Sergeant is it not your duty to lead your squad. I would think it difficult to do so without squad mates." Seigdorn spread his arms, encompassing the absent squad. Placing gloved hands onto his hips he stood expectantly.


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

Dorian made his report prompt and to the point. "Negative sir, I haven't been issued the paperwork for all of my squad yet. our sniper is dealing with a damaged rifle, her scope got busted up. was on my way to the armory to requisition a new one for her sir. Then chaos decided to give us a bit of work to do. Our vox caster is currently in my tent sir, still having problems with his unit. The few our sniper bunks with sir I don't have any information on. Paperwork has been slower than a our one legged runner if someone took away his crutches. I apologize for not having proper intel SIR!" He'd respond. Though his eyes lingered towards the fire for a moment or two before drifting back to Seigdorn. 

"To be honest sir, I don't even know who is assigned to be the squad's commissar. I was merely told to standby until collected. Command hasn't said squat to me. Even the other Pandora are in the dark. We keep giving advice for the camp so we can deal with this acid rain a bit better, but everything we say is ignored." Checking his Pandora's lasso he'd then proceed to report "My kit however sir is in proper working condition. But to be honest I only know of four or five of my squad members. No excuses beyond that sir. " at least he was being honest with his officer.


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

Fighting against the stream of soldiers intent on getting as far way from the flaming tent as possible, Alvarius was slightly surprised at the sight of the Guardsman that ran up beside him. 
"_Commissar, I'm with ya_" the Guardsman proclaimed, priming his lasgun. Nodding to the young soldier, Alvarius made his way to the tent. As he drew near, he began to notice that it was not the tent that was aflame, but a soldier writhing on the ground engulfed in purple flame. Removing his great coat, Alvarius attempted to smother the flame on the man, but all he managed to do was singe his hands as the fire refused to go out. Rising from the ground, he knew that the man was doomed. Looking over at the Guardsman who had accompanied him, he shook his head."_ The only thing we can do for this man is to end his suffering. Make it quick._ Alvarius said grimly, turning away and walking slowly up to the young boy who had crawled out of the tent. As the commissar drew close to the boy, the young man attempted to bite him, but his bite never landed as Alvarius delivered a swift kick to the boy's jaw. Standing over him, the commissar pointed his bolt pistol down at the boys face "_Tell me what has happened here or I shall end your pathetic life._" He said, pressing the bolt pistol into the boys forehead.


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Seigdorn stood, absorbing the Sergeant's report as it was delivered to him. His earlier reservations about the efficiency of this so called 'patchwork company' came back. 

"Understood Sergeant, the situation is not your fault. We have command and logistics to blame for it, something i fear we will be saying often." Seigdorn paused for a moment seemingly lost in thought. Recovering he snapped off a series of orders, his voice clear and authoritative. 

"We shall make do with what we have. Round up the sniper, the voxman and any others of your squad still at your tent. The rest we will find later. Once you have done so rendezvous with me, my microbead frequency is alpha-kappa-zero-niner-beta. I will be at the disturbance, trying to sort out this mess". 

Siegdorn clapped Dorian on the shoulder in an attempt at camaraderie, his goggled face looming close, before abruptly turning and striding back towards the disturbance, ready to impose order on the chaos.


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

Dorian watched Seigdorn to pick up on anything that could gleam information about the man behind the mask. When he spoke however Dorian stiffened up, taking in every word the man said. Hell if he knew what was going on at the moment, but he'd be damned if he didn't treat it with speed and intensity.
"We shall make do with what we have. Round up the sniper, the voxman and any others of your squad still at your tent. The rest we will find later. Once you have done so rendezvous with me, my microbead frequency is alpha-kappa-zero-niner-beta. I will be at the disturbance, trying to sort out this mess". 

The Sargent snapped to attention with a firm "SIR!" as he was given the order and after the pat on the sholder came, he'd bolt off for his sniper's tent. If she wasn't there when he got there he'd make due with who he found and leave a note for her when they left.

No one could say the Sargent wasn't treating the situation with respect. He darted through the camp as fast as he could, like he was on the PT course and told to run a mile as fast as he could. As such his feet smashed into the ground as if he was trying to crush skulls under his boots. This in turn caused the acidic mud to splash up around him as he ran through the tent lines. Once he finally got to the tent though he didn't bother knocking on the knocking plank, he just burst into the tent and immediately went about establishing the situation in a prompt manner.

"Forgive my intrusion but...ON YOUR FEET LADS!" he'd shout at the gathering, his hands clutching his lasrifle firmly. "Grab your guns, your kit, and your asses boys and girls lets go, and before ya ask, we got orders from our officer to mobilize." Dorian had puffed himself up like a drill instructor at boot camp who was about to do one of two things, beat a recruit to death for being slow, or run a recruit to the point their body gave out under the strain and their hip shattered like a fragmentation grenade. "We got Chaos forces on base so move it!" He'd shout trying to give them extra motivation. During this time though he'd clip to his vox operator's com channel with his microbead. 

"Nathin, Nathin are you there? By the emperor's throne Corporal Strasse pick up. " He'd wait for a few moments in hopes he would get a responce, also giving the squad a few moments to quickly get their kit ready. "We've got orders Corporal, our officer wants us mobile right now. " By the emperor he hoped the message got through and that his vox operator responded.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

*Mini-update: Primaris Psyker Allyssa Dayne*

The boy looked up at the Commissar. His eyes rolling in terror.

He found screaming to be considerably more difficult with a gun jammed in his mouth.

"Tell me what has happened here or I shall end your pathetic life."

Those would probably be the last words the boy would ever hear, being completely unable to give a response of any kind.

That is if it hadn't been for the fact that Alvarius suddenly found himself arching rather dramatically in the air. Trooper Derek followed suit.

Landing flat on his back in the boiling mud the inexperienced Commisar could look up and see only one thing.

Standing not a metre away was a woman.

She would be beautiful by the definition of any garden world. Her skin was as soft as down and as white and smooth as polished marble. Her coal black hair, monochromatic but for a white streak handing from her bangs, flew back dramatically in the wind. For some bizzare reason, she wore no poncho or facemask, the acidic precipitation sliding off her without a mark.

She seemed to radiate one word; Indelible.


Clad in the brown robes of an Imperial Psyker she was, clearly hers were much better cared for than those of the boy once again screaming and crying on the ground, They also bore considerably more prayer-marks. Unlike the boy, she wore no helmet, instead a high collar surrounded her lovely neck.

She bore the earmarks of an Epsilon-Level Psyker. An Iniquisitor's pet.

She lowered one hand, it seemed delicate for something that had shot enough concussive force to bear two men to the ground. Her other clutched a staff she used to hobble foreward. She had lost a leg at some point.

Where there should have been a statuesque, sculpted limb was a heavy peice of metal, formed in parody of the paragon of legs whom's place it had taken.

She stepped forward and seized the crying boy, pulling him into a bearhug before gently, if a stabbing could be called as such, injecting him with a syringe.

With a soft moan, the boy collapsed into unconciousness, as the Primaris Psyker gently arranged his psychic hood on his head, stopping only to cover him with a peice of the acid resistant canvas.

As she walked by the still smoldering corpse of the soldier, she paused only long enough to spit on his rapidly decaying ashes.

As the gobbet of spittle evaporated in the warp-heat she bent down to help the stunned Political officer to his feet.

"I'm sorry Commissar." says she in a voice like a rush of lillies. "I didn't want to have to do that, but I couldn't allow you to hurt my son."
******************************************************************
Alvarius Kane: Whoo boy has the shit hit the fan, who is this woman, aside from an powerful psyker? How is that boy her son? Send me a PM to find out the answers to this question in next weeks dramatic episode! Stay tuned. (warning next week's dramatic episode may come sooner if I get a fast response)
All: for everyone who didn't manage to get to the incident or post a PM to me already, sorry, the boat has sailed. Anyone who is not currently actively involved in the squad or currently in the camp may not take part in this event. Now, anyone who wants to do something beyond commenting on the scene or talking in response to what is going on with the Psyker woman, send me a PM before you put it up. - _Everyone who has a character in the camp at this moment _(which is to say, everyone except for Unexpekted, Yru0 and Brendxb, they have yet to even enter the encampment .)_may post and comment on the event, but if they do they will only arrive AFTER the commissar has been knocked on his ass._


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

When was a psyker when you needed him.....

This time... it was a her.

She simply grazed trough the situation like a bird flying from one branch to another.
Good, a psyker had fixed the situation Thrius thought.

He kept on going to his tent. This day just got worse and worse.
While wandering.... he slowly drifted into his daydreams again.


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

Nathin could tell that something was wrong. The vox-caster hissed and cackled loudly in between grabbled words and howling screams. Worse the vox could no longer pick up anything on the important high level channels including the ones used by HQ. It was not the machine itself that was at fault, something was causing the interference. That something was without a doubt the enemy. And if they were increase communication interference it could only mean one thing, they were preparing a major push against their lines if they weren’t already.

However before he could do anything the vox-caster spewed out a grabbled transmission. _"…thin, Nathin are you… …ral Strasse… …orders Corporal… …wants us mo… …now...”_

Instantly his training kicked in. Sergeant Dorian’s message may have been grabbled and unclear but protocol was clear regardless. If communications were down and a possible enemy attack imminent then all troopers were to rally to their commanding officer for immediate orders or failing that the senior most officer or NCO until communications were restored with HQ.

Taking a few minutes to secure his pack and vox-caster to his back, Nathin sprinted out of the tent with his lasgun in hand. Whatever was happening Nathin would find the sergeant or die trying.

Like any Kriegian would.


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## Otep (Mar 18, 2008)

Dornes was thrown into a mad house from the surprise attack. His lasgun was still warm from taking out cultists who attempted to flank the compound. He managed to grab a few other medics and foot soldiers to make a secure casualty collection point in the motor pool. 

The casualties kept pouring in. Everything from lacerations, burns, gun and laser based wounds were present on every casualty. Most of the wounded soldiers would not live to see the dawn. Hell, at this point Dornes wasn’t even sure if any of them would live to see another day. As the body count continued to rise, the medial supplies quickly dwindled. 

A few people ran by. “You! We need medical supplies here quickly; grab who ever you can and get everything and anything you can!” Dornes yelled as loud as he could not only to get their attention but to be heard over the sounds of the raging battle.


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## Anilar (Aug 12, 2011)

Stubbs was making the last notes to the paper about the pot, which had gone better than expected. He shortly wondered how the commisar would take it when he found out. Stubbs was certain that would happen, commisars had a tendency to figure out the secrets of the regiments they were assigned to.

Suddenly there was a sound of a scrambled vox caster, followed by a terrifying scream. Stubbs had never heard anything like it, he had heard and seen soldiers scream in terror, panic and pain. He had heard women scream when faced with the horror of war and loss, this scream was nothing like that. For some reason this scream chilled his spine and made him shiver.

But less than 5 seconds and Stubbs training and experience took over. He threw the box with the Lho-Sticks into his trunk, then he started to collect his weapon. It was a heavy and unwieldy weapon that would take a couple of minutes to assemble.

Stubbs quickly looked up at the others before starting assembling his gun.

_"What you guys think, are we under attack. I think the best course of action is to report to our sergeant, ill suggest you guys run out and locate him. Tell him ill be there in a couple of minutes I need to assemble my gun first."_

With those words Stubbs picked up the first couple of pieces of his Stubber.


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

It didn't take many steps for Thavian to realize his training had escaped him after just one moment of emotion. Still, he figured all he had to do was make it down this one road...yes, there it was.

After passing the still standing half of a once tall building, he could see it, the still intact governor's palace beyond a thick line of trees. A sharp clap of thunder broke the sky as if the entire world resented the fact that he had made his way to safety, even if it may only be temporary.

The dirt and gravel next to his foot erupted into the air with the eeriest form of a whistle flying by that one could ever hear. That hadn't been thunder at all. He was running down an open street and a sniper had him in his sights. 

"_Is the Emperor with me or not?"_ he asked aloud as he slammed himself chest and hellgun first into the closest wall, which happen to be a window still partially intact. He crashed through it, all but tumbling over the shortened wall and landing just inside the building.

He groaned within the confines of his helm, muting his disgruntlement. 

"_That sounds like blasphemy. I am the only one left of my squad who is still blessed by the Emperor, or perhaps my brothers were ready to fight at his side and I still have more to learn."_

He shook his head trying to clear it.

_"At a time like this? Really?"_ he asked himself out loud.

His life long training kicked back in. He had a smoke grenade, but just the one. Was now the time to use it? He supposed so, how often would be going one against one with the other being a sniper. Besides, if he actually made it to the Imperial Guard camp, he could probably some more, and replenish his supplies.

Still, he had didnt know where the sniper was, how far away they were or even from what direction it had come from. The only way to find out was to go back out in the open and hope they missed again. Judging by the time difference between the sound of the shot and the round reaching his position it was more than a sprint away. 

Two thoughts came to mind next. The first was that cultists would likely move in to investigate or surround him, hearing the sniper's shot in this general direction. The second was that he could not worry about killing the sniper and try to use his smoke screen as a way to reach the tree line and gun ti to the camp from there.

He didnt like the idea of sitting against the low wall in a blasted smoldered building with the oddest looking cobwebs in some of the corners that he had ever seen, waiting for another of the cultists to walk near him by happenstance, or sitting there until they communicated with the sniper and surrounded him. No amount of training could win against overwhelming numbers. He was a Storm Trooper, maybe a good sized target with his powerpack on, but he was built for war, the best humans could offer without going through the surgeries of an Astartes. He could run like hell if he had to. This would most certainly be one of those times. He stood up, resting the hellgun on a wobbly table, the only piece of furniture still left in the room,or store, or whatever it may have once been. He unclipped his only smoke grenade from his belt, slid his gloved finger through the metal loop and tugged.

He tossed it into the middle of the street, gripped his hellgun with both hands once more, getting his breathing steady as he stared out the broken window at the billowing smoke, waiting for it to fully rise. So all he could see was white. His lungs expanded wildly in his chest as he took one huge inhale through his nose, and keeping his eyes locked forward, leapt the wall landing in a run...its not like he had never had to do something like this before...

The eye lenses of his helm hit the smoky cloud, enveloping all that he could see. His leg muscles burned, lactic acid preparing its assault. All he wanted to see was trees, nothing but trees.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Kate headed back to her bunk, content with the fact that the sergeant would get what was required and hand it over t her. She sure as hell hoped that he would or she would have to try and use the damaged scope, and she knew for a fact that that would not end well for her shots. She moved quickly through the rain, her petite form jogging as she made her way through the mud and tents, hearing soldiers inside their tents grumbling at the rain and such.

Kate soon arrived back at her tent, ducking under the flap as she made her way inside to see the three others still sat there, introducing themselves.* "Bloody weather out there, better hope that it doesn't rain on the march or our equipment is done for."* She said lightheartedly as she passed by them, taking off her poncho and respirator, revealing her combat fatigues and flak armor underneath.

Kate made her way to her bunk, fishing through her equipment until she found her broken scope and grabbed her rifle before moving to a unmanned cot so that she could talk to the others.* "Specialist Kate Thesus, 249th Cadian."* She said to them as a way of introducing herself, as she quickly inspected her rifle. 

Soon the tent flap burst open as the Sergeant moved in yelling orders to rally his troops quickly. "Forgive my intrusion but...ON YOUR FEET LADS! Grab your guns, your kit, and your asses boys and girls lets go, and before ya ask, we got orders from our officer to mobilize. We got Chaos forces on base so move it!" 

Kate grabbed her poncho and respirator, pulling them on before placing her microbead in her ear. *"Sergeant, hope that I won't need my sniper for range, can't see shit outta this scope."* She said as she moved outside, following her sergeant as the group ran through the mud.


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## Aramius (Oct 14, 2010)

Alexander looked up from his M36 Lasrifle barrel as another coat of protective oil dried into the metal, watching as the silent one, the one who had the Cadian look about him, gathered his Lasrifle and jogged out of the tent to see what the commotion was about. He shook his head slightly, casting a critical eye over the barrel's durable metal, before nodding to himself once. _"Best get my kit ready. From the sound of things, won't be long before they call us up to the lines."_

Quietly and almost unconsciously murmuring the Litany of Durability - not something he often did, but in this acidic quagmire of a hellhole, every little bit helps - Alexander began going through the long-since-memorized motions of reassembling the Lasrifle. _"Barrel... main casing... trigger... stock... energy cell... aquila... all there."_ Setting it aside, he then carefully replaced the cap on the small container of protective oil he had been using, before standing up, wary to avoid the poles of the tent.

As he turned to start kitting up, another entered the tent - an over-the-shoulder glance showed it to be the female sniper, the one who looked curiously familiar. _*"Bloody weather out there, better hope that it doesn't rain on the march or our equipment is done for."*_

Alexander chuckled quietly, a slight smile gracing his features and replied, quoting that ancient phrase that so many soldiers learned to fear and respect; "Thou shalt not tempt Murphy..." Leaning down, he grabbed his flak armor, shrugging it on and clasping it, before sitting down again, grabbing his helmet in one hand, respirator in the other, and sitting the respirator by his side, before turning the helmet over, reaching inside, and pulling out his microbead set.

He carefully slid the earpiece into his right ear as the sniper sat on her bunk, the sheet shifted so they could all see each other. He then attached the throat-mic to his neck, positioning it for ease of access and use, before looking at the sniper just as she introduced herself. _*"Specialist Kate Thesus, 249th Cadian."*_ Alexander's eyes widened as pieces clicked in his mind. _"No wonder she looks familiar... she must've been from the section of the Regiment that got sent here first."_

Sitting his helmet beside him, Alexander leaned forward slightly. "Veteran Alexander Donovan, 249th Cadian, Grenadiers Third Squad. Good to see some of us made it."

A mere moment later, their Sergeant - the one with the sealed armor and vicious-looking grappling hook launcher - burst into the tent. *"Forgive my intrusion but...ON YOUR FEET LADS! Grab your guns, your kit, and your asses boys and girls lets go, and before ya ask, we got orders from our officer to mobilize. We got Chaos forces on base so move it!"*

Alexander was on his feet in a flash with a barked, "Yes Sergeant!" as he finished gearing up. On went the helmet, then the respirator. The acid-resistant poncho went over the top, and for a moment, he wished he still had his old Carapace Armor, from his time as a Grenadier. _"Yeah, and a column of armor'd be nice too. Suck it up Donovan, time to be about it."_ Taking a quick moment to return the oil to his footlocker and locking said locker, he grabbed his M36 and jogged out of the tent beside Kate, trailing their Sergeant.


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

As Alvarius looked down the sight of his bolt pistol at the boy, he realised he would gain no information from him as he obviously could not speak properly. As he was about to lower his pistol, Alvarius found himself thrown from his feet and into the mud by an invisible force. Shouting a curse, he landed flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him by the fall. 

As he struggled to get to his feet, he gasped in shock as he saw a beautiful woman, obviously a psyker by her clothing, hobble towards the young boy on the ground. As she sedated the young man and covered him in a tarp, Alvarius became enraged as this psyker was obviously the reason he had been thrown from his feet. As the woman approached him, she paused and spat on the smouldering corpse of the man Alvarius had ordered shot, then stooped and helped Alvarius to his feet. 

"I'm sorry Commissar." says she in a voice like a rush of lillies. "I didn't want to have to do that, but I couldn't allow you to hurt my son." the psyker said, before Alvarius pushed her hands away from him, and moved to help the Guardsman whom had also been swept from his feet. As he helped the guardsman up, Alvarius spoke to him in a low voice only the two of them could hear. _"If she moves to attack us again, I want you ready to fire"_ he said to the Guardsman, and after hearing his response, turned towards the psyker.

Marching up to the woman, he stood defiantly in front of her. _"I do not know who you are, nor do I care. Give me one good reason I should not have you shot for your heretical actions." _ he spat, resting his hand on his bolt pistol.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

*Mini-Update: Primaris Psyker Allyssa Dayne*

Primaris Psyker Dayne stared down the shorter man, the commissar as he rested his hand on his gun.

Marching up to the woman, he stood defiantly in front of her. "I do not know who you are, nor do I care. Give me one good reason I should not have you shot for your heretical actions." he spat, resting his hand on his bolt pistol.

Then, Alvarius Kane heard a voice speak to him inside of his own mind.

"Because if you do not hear me out then I will burn your mind from the inside, leaving you a gibbering ball of insane flesh, fit only to be made into a servitor."

It was a good threat, one she could most certainly carry out before the commissar could have time to draw his pistol.

Then, seemingly completely at odds with the suituation, she picked up her unconscious son, rested his thin emaciated frame on her hip, looked at the commissar and invited him to coffee.

"Shall we talk this over in my tent Commissar?"

Everyone around them simply looked stunned at the sudden change of pace.


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

A psyker was all the situation called for, the problem fixed itself immidiately when she came into the picture.

It was about here Thrius realised. His tent was no longer on row 4, he didn't even have a tent anymore.
He was transferred to bunk at the medical.
Oh how silly he felt, he immidiatly turned around and started walking back.

A short while later he was at his bed, a simple thing. Yet a tiny bit better than the ordninary ones, at least Thrius liked to play with the thought it was true.
After all he had been trough, he was treated a little better. A bit more luxurious.

He liked the thought alot and it was one of the things that kept him going.
The lie that he is treated a little better.
It was still a lie.

Thrius began going through his stuff, fixing and oiling as he saw fit, his kit was normally kept in neat order, and he hadn't been out from the medical duty for a few days so everything was mostly combat ready.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

(Im sorry i've been really struggling trying to post for the update, everything i wrote came out shit and this isn't much better)

A loud, crack, high pitched screams and groggy shouts, the sound of running feet brought the catachan to his feet, a sheer push of his great arms bringing him from flat to the foor to upright and crouched, left hand on his knife, right on his pistol.

The squad within the tent froze, ears pricked and Alexis swung his poncho around him as the big man began to his assemble his gun with fast practiced motions

"What you guys think, are we under attack. I think the best course of action is to report to our sergeant, ill suggest you guys run out and locate him. Tell him ill be there in a couple of minutes I need to assemble my gun first."

He gave a little grunt, picking his lasgun from the bed and checking the power cell

"Better to find out then be caught with our asses in the wind"

He strode into the rain, finding himself caught between two groups of people, one a woman facing down the pissed up commisar who held his pistol up, signs of mud stains smearing his uniform, his back bristling with irate rage.

"Dickhead" grunted the catachan before moving towards the second group stumbling from their tent under an officers shout. He trotted towards them hearing the back end of the mobolizing speech

"... and before ya ask, we got orders from our officer to mobilize. We got Chaos forces on base so move it!"

The sooner the better, he had a blood oath to fufill, vengeance to enact, his bladce would taste blood tonight. Quickly he reversed his movement poking his head back through the tent flaps, a wide gleeful grin spreading over his twisted features

"Chaos troops on base boys... told you they'd come for us...guess one of us will be rolling in ciggys sooner rather than later"

His head dissapeared from the flaps and he trotted over to the officer, making the sign of the aquilla, a short grunt

"Private Alexis Gray, reporting in sir. Rest of the tents on its way."

He paused, eying up the man in front of him, official, well turned out back straight, his rousing greeting stern yet their was something in the glint of his eyes that gave him courage.

"Sir, if i might speak frankly. You dont know me from shit, all you can tell is what you can see with your two eyes, that I'm catachan and fucking proud of it, built like a house and armed to the teeth. So if we have any particular skills that might be useful in this endeavour i reckon its best to tell you."

He pulled two lethal looking traps from his bag, along with a length of wire and with a slight smile continued in a low murmour

"With your permission sir I'd like to go have a scout about see if i can find anything about what's wandering up the road to us and as I go lay a few surprises for the enemy sir, give them a rousing catachan welcome."

He met the officers gaze, with his own firm stare, waiting, wondering.

What type of officer was this one... he'd never had a bad relationship with an officer, commisars aside, those he had served finding his loyalty unswerving, his courage unquestionable.

Was he an asshole that wanted his men to stand and die in a line, the type that had sent his old squad to die one by one lasguns firing to the last, or was he of the catachan way, a cunning bastard, wanting to turn everything to his advantage.

Traps in hand he waited, time to roll the dice, he could feel battle coming, sense the bloodshed, the chance for vengeance bringing a grim smile to tight thin lips.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

*Update*

Allyssa Dayne is a strange woman.

A walking contradiction.

A perfect Psyker, a beauty.

With a missing leg.

A wise person.

With a fierce temper.

An enemy.

Who just invited you to share a mug of recaff.

*********************************************************
Commissar Alvarius Kane: The Psyker woman has spoken to you in your mind, threatening to kill you should you refuse what she asks.
Then she invites you to coffee. This day can't get much stranger, having little choice you follow, her tent is much like yours, fairly large, well apportioned, a single cot that she lays her son down upon, and a camp stove nearby, she will quickly begin making the recaff for the two of you, humming a hymmnal as she does so, her leg giving off the occasional "whirr" as a counterpoint. You may react to this however you like and ask any questions you want, I will respond to them in a mini update, or, you may choose to send me a PM.
Private Derek Derek: You are still rather stunned with the turn of events, if you choose you may request to accompany the commissar (it's up to him if you can come however) or you may stay and join the group.
*********************************************************
The suituation seems no calmer than before to your eyes.

True, the fire is gone, the psyker woman has stopped playing with reality's laws, but that doesn't do much to comfort you.

You stop to wonder why you just sat on the sidelines when you can hear a shreik rize from the PA system.

The speakers crackle to life.

The next batch has arrived.

*********************************************************
Private Thrius Mc'Mullin: The new soldiers have arrived, do you go down to meet with them? Act as de-facto medic? Go seek Dornes? If you choose to fake being a medic send me a PM, otherwise it's between you and Otep.
*********************************************************
The Depot looks even more decrepit than you imagined.

The iron door to the motorpool is pitted and rusted, the acidic rain etching arcane patterns into it haphazardly. The walls are white stone or plascrete clad in it. They have long been stained brown, an appearance bringing to mind the enamel of a rotting tooth. The men look haggard, sitting underneath tents designed far more for the purpose of function rather than comfort.

The other Guardsmen, some Vardans, some Cadians, some of regiments you fail to recognize, begin to file into a slowly opening door, sunken into a nearby wall, as the officer leads you in. 

You see a stockpile of guns and equipment, canteens, uniforms aplenty, and sitting at the end an empty table with a stained white tablecloth, bearing a red Helix.

The medic has yet to arrive.

*********************************************************
Specialist Jackson McLanahan,Specialist John Doe "Boomer": You have arrived in the depot and are beginning the processing, you will be assigned a new weapon, uniform, basic equipment, new ponchos, ect. You will also speak to a registrar, whom will give you a hard time. When you are ready to have a conversation with the Registrar, send me a PM and we'll hash it out.
********************************************************* 
What is rain to a soldier?

At the moment, it was an inconvienence, soon, it would be a hazard.

Standing in the acidic precipitation was not an enjoyable experience, mask and poncho or no.

The Commissar turned, if someone peered into the window of his facemask, you could see him sweating buckets, but from nervousness or heat, one could not say.

"False alarm everyone, return to your tents."

The climate here was far from pleasant. Even moreso when the reason you were dragged from your dry, safe bed was a "false alarm".

Judging by the smoldering ruins of the tent, the look of sweat on the comissar's face, the pile of ashes, neatly being dissolved, sitting comfortably in what had at one point been a man's flak armor, it had been quite a "false alarm".

*********************************************************
Leuitnant Seigdorn Von Halsen: Your squad is gathered before you, do you intend on running an inspection? Adress them? Or just go off somewhere else?
Specialist Stu Beren: You managed to assemble your stubber, just in time to hear those lovely words, "false alarm" how do you take it? Also, depending on Rems, what's your reaction to the new officer?
Squad Sergeant Dorian Bashera: You've gathered your squad and now are assembled, so your task is done.
Korporal Nathin Strasse:Looking for Sarge
Medical Officer Cory Dornes:Since you never got around to editing your post (plz do eventually) I will assume you joined the group to investigate the incident. If you choose to do somthing different, please send me a PM.
Specialist Kate Thesus, Private Alexi Tyler, Private Alexis Grey,Private Marus Johnson, Private Alexander Donovan, Private Einar Drusus: You are all gathered and present, Sergeant Bashera having ordered you to come help, you're all understandably confused by the commisar's reaction and the "false alarm"
*********************************************************
Trooper Rivett ran as fast as his feet could carry him.

It seems an inadequate description, does not everyone run as fast as they can trying to avoid danger?

But it still fails to communicate the sheer speed and desperation in the man's sprint.

As he sped away, the cultist sniper rose from cover, brushing off the debris.

The Dark Gods were with this one, thought the wretched once-human.

The Stormtrooper could see dying greenery ahead, wilting trees and burning grass, churned mud.

And broken stone. The last discovery came very personally.

A tumble, a fall, a trip, a sudden crack of helmet to stone, the shaking and quivering of a concussion, and for Thavian Rivett, the world went dark.

An hour later, a man would find him.

A man bearing an Aquila. A Guardsman.

An hour later, Trooper Rivett would awaken naked in a bed, listening to a large man named Payne argue with his Vox reciver.
*********************************************************
Stormtrooper Thavian Rivett:
You have awoken in the infirmary, Doctor Payne is there, Thrius may or may not be, depending on his choices, same for Dornes. Your equipment is gone, for the time being, you have no idea where you are, but you do of course realize, Cultists would not have rescued you, or for that matter, left the shrine on the wall intact.
You may interact with the Doctor, or Thrius/Dornes if they are there.
If you choose you may also interact with a nurse, if you do choose so, send me a PM so we can hammer that one out.


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

The acid rain hissed down yet Seigdorn ignored it, such trivialities were beneath a Kriegen. The commotion in the camp began to die down as cries of 'false alarm' and 'stand down' echoed across the camp. A few fires still guttered but they where attended to by soldiers. The Commissar stood seething, having been accosted by some witch psycher. Bewilderingly she seemed to invite him into her quarters. _Blessed is the mind too small to question_ thought Seigdorn, the proverb returning his attention to his current concerns. 

Seidorn stood ramrod straight before his squad, a motley bunch of ragtag soldiers from a multitude of regiments. They were strange and foreign to him, from cultures hundreds of light years apart. In place of Krieg uniformity and efficiency there seemed individuality and character. He did not know if he liked that or not. Being able to stare directly into his troop's eyes was a new, and somewhat disquieting experience. The Krieg officer addressed them in the pouring rain, raising his voice to speak across it and his full face rebreather. 

"I am Hauptma-," "-Leutnant", he corrected himself, " Leutnant Seigdorn Von Halsen, you commanding officer. I am not an unreasonable man, i can appreciate the difficulties of a new regiment, a new squad and new cultures. The fact remains though that you were all woefully under prepared and ill responsive. If this has been a real attack you would likely be dead."

He continued, emphasising his words by striking a gloved fist into his palm. 

"Your muster was insufficient. You are disorganised, haphazard. This will not do. There will be discipline and efficiency. You are my squad, you will abide by my rules, respect my authority and you will be the best." 

"Sergeant," he continued, gesturing at the heavily armoured man. "You have my micro bead frequency. I want you to disseminate it among the men and to our vox operator, wherever he may be. Furthermore i shall grant you the requisition forms for a micro bead for yourself. We will then take our voxman to the Quartermaster and have his vox unit fixed. I want no more static, no more interruptions, delays or obstacles. Clear lines of communication are paramount." 

"You are dismissed". Seigdorn nodded to the men and woman, waiting for them to disperse. He would then accompany the Sergeant to the Quartermaster.


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

the Sargent waited for the officer to finish, waiting for his squad to disperse before he spoke to the kreiger. "to be frank sir, i don't give a damn if they demoted you or not... you are what you are, and we are all servants of the emperor... just one problem, i'm not entirely convinced that the problem we're having is simple angry machine spirit... i'm confident in our vox operator's ability to repair and maintain his equipment. he is of your own planet sir... that leaves one other possibility. our enemy is scrambling our signal, and i have my doubts about our command being intelligent enough to comprehend this. and by our command i dont mean you sir, i mean our esteemed base commander who got us to dig in at this prime target for a location that was of tactical importance moderatous. (moderate). " the Sargent kept his words with the officer quiet and over a secure line, the vox signal he was using was only strong enough to travel a few feet, but emperor be damned if it wasn't a hard signal to crack. 

as he walked with the officer he peared towards the fires that were being put out. "i know my words of doubt would cause lesser more daft men to accuse me of heresy for even thinking of questioning the competence of command. but i think our current situation here speaks volumes about those currently in charge of security for this base of operations... if you have doubts sir, i can easily supply the names of twelve other Sargents who are to lead squads, but have been given the same order as i have... i have more words sir, but i'd like to speak them away from prying ears that need not head their meaning... even if this is a secure vox line... the commissar should be present as well. " walking along the Sargent removed the requisition form for the new sniper scope for their marksmen. "no order, no drive, no purpose... we sit here on our hands with our thumbs up our asses... " snarling at the thought as they neared the requisition booth just outside the armory.

shoving a guardsmen out of the way that was just making idol chatter with a female requisition officer the lynx slammed down the requisition form he had with him for the new scope. "welcome to requisitions" the officer spoke in a cherry manner, almost thankful for the Sargent getting rid of the flirtatious guardsmen. "a scope for a long las? i'll clear it with the reliquary... we're running low though Sargent" she'd advise, causing the pandoran to pause in thought, turning his head just so a eye could pear out to his officer. "after this sir... i'd like to see about talking to you and the commissar in private... emperor be willing of course..."


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Seigdorn walked through the rain with his Pandoran Sergeant, the two deathworlders ignoring the caustic fluids sheeting down. As they walked the Dorian expressed his confidence is Seigdorn and his lack of confidence in high command. 

He silently took in Dorian's words that there where other Sergeants, veteran soldiers like him in the regiment. Moral truly had to be low Seigdorn mused, for Dorian to say such things so forthrightly. Such talk was insubordination and dangerous, it made Seigdorn appreciate the trust Dorian must have for him to speak of such things. It was likely also an indicator of the dissatisfaction Seigdorn radiated at this command. He would have to be more careful to hide his true feelings in front of command. 



They came to the Requsitions building, Seigdorn shooting a dark look at the idle guardsman. The man was about to protest at the Sergeants treatment until he noticed the Kreigan officer, silently starring at him. Thinking better of it the man swallowed before quickly saluting and hurrying back to his bunk. 

"Your words are a solace to me Sergeant. It is good to know i have a veteran i can trust, a veteran with his eyes opened to the realities of war and the Imperial Guard. I appreciate what you are saying, consider your wish granted. You'll get your audience. I'm confident the Commissar will see eye to eye with us".


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

dorian peared to Seigdorn only to shake his head. " i'm afraid i dont agree sir... he will see that something else is going on, or i will see the barrel of his bolt pistol being pressed into my eye socket. but i must always be mindful that my duty is to the emperor first and foremost." pausing for a moment to start heading up to the armory doors as they opened. rows of ammunition boxes, gun racks, and armor sat unused for the moment. "The emperor protects my friend, but a loaded weapon and friends at your back never hurt... i seek knowledge, and i'll be honest about that. to denie it and dodge around that would be folly and pathetic of me... i want to know why we are simply held up at a location of moderate importance... menial in the large scale of things, only here for sentimentalist value... when there are orbital defense guns, armories, libraries and museums of artifacts, star ports and orbital elevators we can be holding up at." if there was one thing Dorian was, it was honest. 

"i will not lie to you Seigdorn, i question the wisdom of staying in this location, we're just sitting here with our proverbial pants down in a perfect kill box for the enemy. one well placed artillery round and we're all dead before we even have time to ask the emperor for forgiveness. " he added, stopping at the reliquary for scopes... the lady at the front desk wasn't joking... there were five scopes left, and none of them Dorian would wish on his worst enemy... but a functional scope was better than a busted scope... taking one and sliding it into a satchel he'd turn to face the officer. "I respect one thing above all else sir, second only to the faith in the emperor. and that is honesty. if i do not give you and the squad the same curtisoy that i expect you to give me, what more am i than a worthless wretch barely fit to stand and die for the emperor. "


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

_"Because if you do not hear me out then I will burn your mind from the inside, leaving you a gibbering ball of insane flesh, fit only to be made into a servitor."_ Were the words that Alvarius heard echo into his mind, obviously from the psyker, as he stood defiantly in front of her.

It was a good threat, one she could most certainly carry out before Alvarius could have time to draw his pistol.

Then, seemingly completely at odds with the suituation, she picked up her unconscious son, rested his thin emaciated frame on her hip, looked at the commissar and invited him to coffee.
_
"Shall we talk this over in my tent Commissar?"_

Everyone around them simply looked stunned at the sudden change of pace.

Turning to the squad assembled behind him and speaking over the noise of the acidic rain Alvarius said_ "False alarm everyone, return to your tents."_ before turning and walking over to the Guardsman that had accompanied him to the event. _" Your help was much appreciated Guardsman, you stood while others ran. I will see to it that your commanding officer hears of it. I think now would be a good time to assemble with your squad whilst I sort out this mess"_ he said before turning and accompanying the psyker to her tent.

As they entered her tent, he noticed that it was much like his own,fairly large, well apportioned, a single cot where she laid her son down, before walking up to a camp stove nearby, and quickly beginning to make the recaff for the two of them, humming a hymmnal as she does so, her leg giving off the occasional "whirr" as a counterpoint. 

Accepting a cup of recaff from her, and taking a seat on a chair in the corner of the tent, Alvarius spoke. "_I understand your concern for your son, but know this. I had no intention of shooting him, and I do not appreciate you attacking a member of the Commissariat. _ Taking a sip of his recaff he continued, smiling as he did so. "_Now that we got that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, I am Alvarius Kane, and what may I ask is a psyker like yourself doing attached to a sorry regiment like this one?_ he said, pulling out a canteen and adding a splash of amasec to his cup, before offering the psyker the canteen.


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## Anilar (Aug 12, 2011)

The shout of false alarm filled the air outside the tent, just as Stubbs was ready to go outside. There had been no shooting, so for now the troops was safe.

Stubbs stood for a moment indecisive at the exit of the tent, he was all ready to enter the mud and rain. But it was raining and it was muddy, he could wait for the next call for order before getting dirty. Taking a deep breath Stubbs exited the tent and entered the rain and the mud, looking around, he saw some distance away a Crab and a Krieg adressing the Cadians of the neighbouring tent. They didn't seem to notice stubbs, so he stood still untill they moved away, Stubbs figured it was time to get to know the Cadians sooner or later, and maybe introduce them to the gathering pot.

As the Cadians started to split up, Stubbs approached them, hand forward to shake the hand of anyone who would recieve a handshake.
_"Evening fellow guardsmen. Im Stubbs I believe we have been assigned to the same patchwork squad. Saw you had a talk with what I assume is our sergeant and officer, what is you impression of them. _


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

Thrius was just in the plans of cleaning his canteen when the intrcom spoke.

"-Private Mc'mullen to the medicae facility." A nurse rang out with a pleasant, but distorted voice.
The call was only made in this room most probably, and he quickly left his current plans and went to work.

In all honesty, Thrius thought he would get to have some time off.
Payne ordered him to aid the other nurses with the light bruising and acid burns. He helped several people, and worked efficiently.

A calmness was over the situation, there was commotion and people walking about and talking and accidentally slamming and bumping equipment, but generally the situation was smooth and silent.

All of a sudden, the doors burst open and two guardsmen in ponchos whom carried a.... stormtrooper?? Crashed into the room.

The situation got a bit chaotic, but Payne walked up and took control of the situation.
The armour of the trooper was taken of, and Payne yelled Thrius over.

-"Mc'mullin, take this key and put the suit into locker 14, and give the key back to me. Give it a quick rinse before putting it in so we don't get accused of defilement of equipment."

Thrius gave a quick salute and began working on his task, took the key and went to a shower.
The suit was heavy, and without doubt a stormtrooper carapace, the thickness and extra plates was heavy and impressive.

With care Thrius rinsed off the suit, trying to not soak the soft armour parts too much and took it all to locker 14 as ordered.
It was in the officer locker area, used for storing the equipment of wounded officers when no one had time to watch over the storage, guarding the possessions from prying eyes whom would like a new weapon, or a fine jug of amasec.

Only Payne had the keys here, so the suit would be safe, and Thrius felt honored that Payne would allow him to carry this responsibility.

He would not loose his trust.

After carefully putting the suit in the locker, he quickly returned to Payne and reported task complete and returned the key.
Payne was busy talking to another doctor and only accepted the key and made a quick recognition.

Thrius was just about to leave when the stormtrooper seemed to get back to his senses.
He seemed a bit shocked and stressed out so Thrius approached him in his cot.

-"Easy there sir, calm down. You are in a hospital, everything is fine." Thrius looked briefly at his journal.
-"You had a quite nasty concussion there, but you should be fine after some rest, and don't worry, your equipment is safe!"

Thrius soothing words seemed to make the stormtrooper less stressed, but he still had this feel of urgency about him.

[Ok, mr Rivett, how will you treat poor Thrius?]


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

*Mini-Update Primaris Psyker Allyssa Dayne*

She handed the commissar a heavy mug, full of brown recaff. She looked him in the eye as he attempted to control his strange mixture of confusion, fear and curiousity.

"_I understand your concern for your son, but know this. I had no intention of shooting him, and I do not appreciate you attacking a member of the Commissariat. _ Taking a sip of his recaff he continued, smiling as he did so. "_Now that we got that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, I am Alvarius Kane, and what may I ask is a psyker like yourself doing attached to a sorry regiment like this one?_

"Commissar, I know full well you had every intention of killing him, I could see it in your mind. It is a commissar's duty is it not? Execution of rogue psykers? Which you assume Arrom to be."

The Commissar shifted uncomfortably.

" You may not appreciate being attacked, but I do not appreciate threats to my family. You are a commissar, clearly if you were worth your salt you would have killed me already. I have confidence you won't report this however, will you?"

She fixed him with a gaze that was like ice, and more than likely than not, enhanced by her own reserve of power. Then her expression softened as the commissar's skin blanched. She reached for her own mug and brought it to her lips.

"Perhaps I should tell you our tale..."


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

*Stormtrooper Thavian Rivett*

(Since I am still waiting for a response from Angel, Unexpektedd has left most RP threads, I will be making Stomtrooper Rivett a non player character, in the event that Unexpektedd returns, his character will be waiting for him. This and all other posts shall simply be to keep things moving.)

*************************************************************

Jack! Vullo! Gillian! Red!

Jack! Vullo! Gillian! Red!

Their names chanted like a mantra in the mind of Thavian Rivett, former Inquisitorial Stormtrooper.

Each one an accusation, every name a painful memory. Or they would be if he knew what they meant.

His fevered mind watched the world swirl before him, like milk in a cup of caffine.

"God Emperor help me."

He croaked the words slowly. Dr.Payne turned and looked at his charge.

Well that satisfied Payne. He wasn't wasting painkillers on a damned heretic. Payne rushed over to the downed soldier, lifting his head enough to meet his lips to a cup of water. Rivett didn't hesitate, sipping slowly.

"Wh-where am I?" his lips were cracked from dehydration, Payne turned to check the Stormtrooper's saline drip.

Payne looked down at him.

"You're in Alpha-Alpha-Septimus. An Imperial Guard camp. I'm Doctor Jackob Payne. The time is eleven-hundred Imperial."

Thavian looked up at the large dark-skinned man.

"Imperial Guard? What's that?"

"What do you mean? What's your name?" Payne was suddenly concerned. he stroked his thick curly beard.

"I... I d-don't know."

"Well, soldier, you hit your head pretty hard out there, we found you unconscious in the woods."

"I-I don't remember."

"Do you remember us bringing you in? You were fighting us pretty hard, the concussion kinda scrambled your head, I'd say you were disoriented."

"I-I was?"

"Yes, don't you remember?"

Thavian felt a rush of blood to his head. A flash of White.

"Mc'mullin, take this key and put the suit into locker 14, and give the key back to me. Give it a quick rinse before putting it in so we don't get accused of defilement of equipment."

"Yes Doctor." Thavian watched a man walk away carrying armor he didn't recognize, but somehow knew was his.

The skinny man came back a moment later, he recognized Payne as the man holding him down. Payne stood up to talk with another orderly.

"Easy there sir, calm down. You are in a hospital, everything is fine." Thrius looked briefly at his journal. "You had a quite nasty concussion there, but you should be fine after some rest, and don't worry, your equipment is safe!"

"What?" Thavian looked about, nearly panicking. He didn't recognize anything. He suddenly felt sick. He felt his arms flailing, he was screaming, but he wasn't sure for what. He could see his hand snap out and connect firmly with the gut of the skinny man who had carried off his armor, he saw the man go down, then everything went black.

Then the present came rushing back to him.

"I-I think I remember... Um, I think I need to see someone in charge."

"Why?"

"I need to tell him someone."

"What do you need to tell him?" Payne was concerned, Rivett could hear it in his voice.

"I don't know."
*************************************************************


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

After trying to soothe the poor confused stormtrooper, Thrius suddently saw that the mans skin went pale, and he flailed a little.

Oh oh, time for the bucket Thrius Thought, believeing the poor sod was going to throw up.
Although to Thrius surprise, a knuckled fist with years of strength and combat training behind it connected with his stomach knocking down poor Thrius with ease.

All the air was completely knocked out of him and he was in a great deal of pain, a nurse was kind enough to rush to his aid.

He wasn't hurt, at least not according to imperial guard standards, so he was put to rest a while in a chair nearby.
Thrius had good view of the man who had punched him, and could hear his ramblings.
Thrius didn't blame him, the poor sod was confused, edging on mad. It was easy to loose ones sanity in theese times, he had seen it happen to many of his friends.

Payne tried his best to interrogate the trooper, with some result.


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## Angel Encarmine (Jul 5, 2011)

The Psyker woman sat back in her chair, propping her one good leg up on the back of another in a distinctly unladylike manner, the other held to the floor like a magnet to iron.

_"I was born on the Garden-World of Akamatt, a fairly unimportant place, just a playground for the rich, like my father."

"He had been a general once, before his regiment had concqured some planet I never learned the name of. They had made him Govenor-Millitant, eventually he had left the rule in the hands of one of his adjutants and retired to Akamatt."

"I was told I had been a mousy little thing at first, they didn't expect me to survive. But I did. He was, good enough I suppose, as far as fathers go, he was never very warm. I-I hear he cried the day the Black Ship came though. Knowing that makes me wish we had been closer."

"The Inquisition decided I was of value and took me, originally I was bound for the Golden Throne, like so many other Psykers, destined to fuel the fires of the Astronomican. If memory serves, I was about 8 at the time."

"One of the Inquistors took notice though. He decided I might make for a useful attache. So, he manipulated his way through the beauracracy and, I became his new toy Psyker, my power made me a status symbol, to be Epsilon level, with such control at my age? It was somthing that no other Iquisitor in his cell could top. I was indespensible to him."

"Eventually, I grew up, he grew old, I had been his servant for about 10 years. He was... a-a cruel man. If I refused to do somthing for him, he would beat me. Fair I suppose, after all it's not like a Psyker is a real Human after all is she? So, after he was poisoned by a rival vying for his position, It's not like I shed any tears for him. While the others in his cabinet were either killed or never heard from again, I was too valuable to murder. So once again I was made a slave to the Inquisition. My new master was a younger man, a conservative they called him. There were times he was...forward in his demands of me."_

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Alvarius removed his flask from a pocket deep in the fold of his greatcoat, and after taking a long drink, slowly put it back, and nodding to the psyker, motioning for her to continue.

_"I.. there were many times I..."_ She seems to find it difficult to go forward. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself.

_"A few weeks later we were inspecting one of the Black Ships, looking for prospective.. agh! To the warp with it, he was a emperor-damned radical, may Horus take him and he wanted to create a daemonhost!"

"I no longer care who knows. He was a radical and he wanted to find a weak psyker whom he could use. That's how I found Arrom."

"He was just a little boy at the time, barely able to walk, ripped from his mother and frightened.. so frightened."_ She turns to look at her sleeping son,her eyes sad, he's lying on the cot, occasionally tossing and snuffling, as though being chased by some horrifying thing in a dream.

_"My master chose him to be the daemonhost. Claimed he was perfect, just powerful enough to attract the attention of a daemon, too weak to fight him off."

"I.. I couldn't let him do that. I love my Emperor and would do anything to serve him but... I couldn't let that bastard do what he wanted with other people any more. So... so when he tried to summon the daemon, I seized Arrom and locked my former master in with the thing, escaping in a pod amongst the confusion. I heard later that the creature was stopped, at great cost to the Inquisition, but I no longer cared. I spent the weeks drifting in space teaching Arrom sign language, so he could communicate, and how to control his powers, I had secreted away plenty of supplies to our pod, including his psychic hood."

"Eventually, I'll never be sure how long, we were found drifting about by a imperial guard troop transport, en route to this crusade. We claimed to be the last survivors of an Inquisition coven that had been wiped out. The Lord General attached us to his service, we joinedhis company's Psyker Coven, and came here. The entire company and most of the coven were slaughtered at Alfasicus Nine. And then we came here."_ She finished lamely.

_"Now do you understand commissar? Why I will not allow you to bring any harm to Arrom? He is everything to me. I tell you all this in strictest confidence, I swear both I and my boy are free of the influence of Chaos, but, trying to live a normal life as a Psyker is near impossible. And it takes great effort, normal people are never comfortable around us, they persecute and blame us. That's why Arrom lost control, I know that soldier, he was bullying my son, he would come in and threaten him with a knife, every time I reported it to Commissar Stryker she would brush me off, if Arrom had not lost control when he had I would have killed him myself."_ She says with a determined look in her eye. _"So please commissar, cover for us, I beg you." she looks at you with a desperate look in her deep blue eyes.
_
Leaning back in his chair, and sighing slightly, Alvarius put his hands over his face, massaging his temples. After a few minutes of this, he finally dropped his hands and leveled his gaze upon the psyker._ "It seems you have endured many hardships Allysa, and after hearing your tale i am inclined to agree that you and your son are free of taint. I do wish that you would have brought the incident of the soldier harassing the young man to me after seeing Stryker not acting, then maybe a man would not have had to die today."_ He frowned before continuing. _"I am willing to overlook the boy killing the soldier, and your attack on myself and the guardsman. However I feel that I must tell you, if you or the boy attack another member of the Emperors Imperial Guard, you shall face the consequence, it will simply be out of my hands."_

Standing up, Alvarius walked over to the psyker and offered his hand. _"It has been a pleasure meeting you, Allyssa, and I look forward to seeing you in the future."_ After shaking her hand, he turned and exited the tent, making his way back to the barracks. As he walked alone in the rain, he began formulating a story to tell Commissar Stryker, as she would not stand for this event going unpunished. _Psykers_ he thought, shaking his head.


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## Nicholas Hadrian (Mar 20, 2011)

(Here it is, my attempt at the mother of all updates, anyone may place a post that is in flashback to just before you left, in the present, or may simply soliloquize about your current situation, I am strongly encouraging you all to send PMs to each other and plot under my nose to do interactions, please do, I want this RP to be VERY character driven, and with a cast like this we have the variety and colour to pull it off. As ever, open door policy, if anyone has any questions, things I left out or forgot, please just make a post in the OOC thread, remind me, bring it to my attention, or send me a PM. Good luck and have fun Heretics.)

The rain finally abated.
A goddamn miracle.
A few days have passed since the incident that got the camp in uproar; the rather disturbing remains of the burnt out Cadian were finally buried, surreptitiously behind the hospital.
There was a letter sent home. He had re-joined his regiment.
None of that mattered to you however.
Your new squad. Something to be proud of.
If one could be proud of a disgrace.
******************************************
Orders had come down the pipe at last. Colonel Stackhouse had received them.
“About time” were the first words out of his mouth.
Orders came to you a little later, at the end of a breathless massager.
The regiment is being sent to Innocent.
The biggest front on Urbine Secundus right now.
Better known as the meat-grinder.
******************************************
The man who described was as hell never rode on a troop train.
If he had he might have a better idea of hell.
The squad is all packed into a single tight car, billeted together, right behind the medicae car, at Dr. Payne’s request, “just in case”.
At least you don’t have to worry about getting sleeping pills.
Rain is pattering the windows again.
For all that it’s depressing; at least the rain is water this time.
******************************************
Leutnant Seigdorn Von Halsen:
The squad has taken to you, or at least the sergeant has. You’re not so sure about the others, and they’re not particularly sure about you, no soldier is particularly fond of hard discipline after all. The news of being sent to the meat-grinder is of course exciting for you, finally a chance to gain back your commission. Currently you are sitting in a passenger car enjoying a nice little kaffesclatch with the other officers of the regiment and the highly obnoxious colonel. If you so choose you may either sit alone and in silence, try to leave, or interact with one of the officers. If you try to leave, send me a PM, otherwise you may attempt to speak with the colonel, or junior officer, one of which will offend you, if you choose the officer, you may have an option to duel him. Sitting alone will attract the attention of a lady officer. Send me a PM if you need more specifics.

Brig and Boomer: 
You two have been assigned to the squad, after the incident with the Psyker woman you were processed and assigned to the squad just the day before you got on the troop train, you may spend the intervening time as you wish, except the troop train must be your fist time meeting the squad. You both may introduce yourselves as you feel fit, Feel free to introduce yourselves, think about your new assignment, get acquainted, etc.

Private Alexis Grey: 
Since Trooper Rivett is now an amnesiac NPC, feel free to be the trooper who found him and brought him back, if you choose to visit him he is in the car just next door, get acquainted with the new guys, or you may explore the troop train, if you choose to do so, send me a PM.

Sergeant Dorian Bashera:
You have been getting rather close with the new lieutenant. Currently he has left you in charge of the squad while he attends the colonel’s party. You have decided to start up patrols of the cars, just to ensure security and must choose whom to send on patrol, think carefully, only four at most may go, you get to decide. You have been keeping an eye on your medic; he’s been worrying you a bit lately, strange sicknesses. If you want to do something off the wall that I didn’t think of, send me a PM.

Commissar Alvarius Kane:
Ever since the meeting with the Psyker woman, things have been feeling very off, lately you can’t even find the same comfort you usually do in alcohol. You are attending the party with the lieutenant and colonel, but are very much failing to enjoy yourself, for some reason you feel sick, worse knowing you must keep her secret. For some reason a woman across the room, wearing a second lieutenant’s uniform keeps looking at you, but doesn’t seem to want to do anything else. Also, feel free to interact with Rems’ character, if you like you may even choose to seek out your opposite number, Commissar Stryker, you may also attempt to speak with the colonel, try to go find Psyker Dayne’s quarters, or drink yourself stupid at the bar.

Korporal Nathin Strasse:
Ever since a Krieger was put in charge of your outfit you have felt at home, almost joyous, if it was possible for a Krieger to be cheerful. The lieutenant has chosen you as his aide-de camp and as such you are attending the function as well. You may choose to stay close to the lieutenant, keep an eye on the commissar, go off on your own (in which case you send me a PM) or you may chat up a young Catachan trooper sitting at the bar, wearing the uniform of a captain.

Specialist Kate Thesus:
You now have your full set of equipment, and have been tinkering with it ceaselessly. Right now you’re sitting in the billet with the other “men” listening to the new Vardan heavy weapon team get themselves acquainted. You can either join them, volunteer for squad patrol, or wander off on your own, in which event, send me a PM with an idea of where you want to go.

Cory Dornes:
You’re currently helping Dr. Payne with the storm trooper, for the time being he is still confined to medicae, though he is capable of moving around on his own. You’ve just gotten the guy back to his bed. He seems fine otherwise, except for the fact that he has no idea who he is; you can either go and try to find Thrius, do a few medical exams to keep busy, talk with Dr. Payne, or try to interview the amnesiac soldier and get an idea of whom he is.

Private Thrius Mc’Mullin:
You’ve been kind of bothered with the news ever since it came down the pike, coupled with the fact that the amnesiac trooper has been creeping you out a bit, you’re sitting outside the medicae car, trying to gather your thoughts as you watch the tracks fly from underneath your feet. You can head back into the car at any time, maybe if you feel particularly bothered; perhaps go have a talk with the chaplain. Send me a PM if you choose to go chi-chat with the chaplain.

Private Alexander Donovan: 
You’ve lately been feeling funny about trooper Thesus. You’re beginning to suspect you might know her. It’s been driving you mad, the idea that someone from your regiment might still be living. Right now you’re deep in thought, staring into the bottom of a nearly empty bottle of Kesra, the local alcohol. It tastes a lot like Kerosene, probably burns just as well. You can either sit and think in the billet, or volunteer for patrol.

Private Einar Drusus: 
Private Drusus has been sitting quietly the whole train ride. Something seems to be bothering him. Maybe someone should ask?

Private Derek: 
You still feel bruised from the incident with the Psyker woman. Really the pain should have faded by now, but it hasn’t, that has you worried, but you haven’t gone to the medicae to get it checked out. Right now you’re just sitting in the corner, sharpening your trench-knife. Listening to the conversation. I would suggest volunteering to go on patrol, though you also have to option to stay in the car and do as you please.

Private Stu Beren: 
You, like so many others are sitting in the billet, cleaning your weapon. The news has gotten you especially tense. This won’t be pleasant. You’ve still got the pot, you’re keeping it in with your kit, in a way it’s making you uncomfortable, sleeping, knowing those smokes are sitting there under your pillow, each and every one representing the life of an imperial soldier. It’s been giving you nightmares. How long is it before you too get rolled up and smoked away? You may either take to soliloquy, or you may volunteer for patrol to take the edge off.

Steeltooth: 
You’re taking a light snooze in your bunk, really after so many years of campaigning you’ve gotten used to troop cars; it’s almost soothing the way it rocks you to sleep. The rain is making your jaw ache, it might be a good idea to go hit the medicae for painkillers, or maybe a walk, you might even choose to go and volunteer for patrol-duty.

Private Alexi Tyler:
You have gone off in private to have a smoke. Considering the fact of where you are going, you figure a man bound for a suicide mission might as well have a last cigarette, though there will be hell to pay if the sergeant catches you. Walking along the outside of the car in the drizzling rain you can either run into Thrius, spy on the officer’s party, or go exploring.

ALL: Once again I apologize for the long overdue nature of this post, beg all of you to come back and spam my email inbox again and hope you do so soon.
Also, anyone and everyone may choose to wander off somewhere and do something. Your options are;
The Chapel car
The Medicae car
The Armory car
The Munitions car
The Billet for squad number 9
Any space outside the cars on the rails
If you choose to go somewhere on that list, send me a PM, and remember, first come, first serve on events. Also, everyone who wants to go on patrol, kiss up to DasOmen, he’s in charge of that now.


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## Klomster (Oct 9, 2008)

Beneath the thin wire flooring he was sitting on, the wooden beams zooming past in a blur below, the noise drowning the thoughts.

Thrius sat and watched the rail below, and suddently gazed to the right.

He recognised this place.... then it dawned for him.
He had gone on this very railway on a vacation once, it was a long time ago now. He and his wife was going to some more tropic region, to bathe, relax in the sun and watch kids play on the beach.

He recognised a hillside, it was covered in grass and some trees as of how he remembered it, and that was how he saw it.

Not the dead war-torn black tree stumps that they are, but what they were all those years ago.
The fields filled the morning sun, glistening of the morning dew, he had sat outside then also, all those years ago.

But the fields was not glistening with morning dew, they were soaked with months of rain, old trench networks and barbed wire criss-crossing the valley.
Old corpses, flooded trenches and the rusting remains of fighting vehicles. But this zone had been won, and the battle-line had advanced.

Most probably to the place now known as the meat-grinder.

As Thrius sat watching the beutiful spring fields of his memories, a loud siren rang, and he was instantly cast back into reality.
The moment was gone, and Thrius was back in hell.....

The siren had probably sounded to alert the troops, or perhaps it was part of a machine ritual performed every hour.
Or just some officer feeling the wanton need to address his troops with some nonsense.
Either way, it was probably best to step inside for now.

He walked to the passanger cart of his squad and took his seat, before long he was staring emptily out the window again.


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## Rems (Jun 20, 2011)

Seigdorn sat alone in the officer’s rail car, his body sinking into a plush chair. He ignored the hubbub of conversation around himself, focused on his own thoughts. Seeing the Commissar Kane, he nodded absently to the black clothed man. The trademark gasmask of the DeathKorps was slung aside for the moment, his pale face on show. Sipping his drink Seigdorn mused on the status of his squad and his own career. Though his Sergeant seemed capable enough, trustworthy and dependable, his squad was still not up to scratch, though Seigdorn supposed it was to be expected given the mess of cultures and fighting styles his amalgamated unit comprised of. In the end though he supposed, it would not matter, they would be forged or destroyed in the fires of war; combat was the surest test for his men. 

Since the incident of psychic activity things had been relatively quiet and the regiment was being shipped to the front lines. The Leutnant relished the prospect of combat, glory and valour in battle was the surest steps to promotion. With that thought he glanced over at the Colonel, the man’s braying laughter like a donkey’s. Seigdorn still fumed at the slight he had suffered, the Colonel’s attitude not making the disgrace any easier to bear. Annoyed, Seigdorn looked about the car instead. 

Looking about he caught sight of a singularly distinct officer, a woman. The Kreigen eyebrows lifted in surprise for Kreig had no female officers, or even soldiers. Women on Kreig stayed on planet to operate its vast manufactorums while the men fought. She was an intriguing figure. A slight smile tugging at his dour face Seigdorn thought that perhaps, war could sometime be beautiful.


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## Anilar (Aug 12, 2011)

Sitting on his bed, Stu was cleaning his heavy stubber absent minded looking over his squad mates. Most of them including himself had there names on several Lho-stick which was securely tucked and locked away in his trunk. Stu knew the front lines would be hell, the headquarters had been a hell of mud and acid rain. At the front lines there would be even more mud and acid rain, mixed with trenches fortifications and constant bombardment. And to top it all of, Stu was beginning to have nightmares about the cigarettes. Nightmares where he was rolled up and smoked away by his squad mates. Stu was not sure what to think of his dreams, and he was surprised by them. War had not shaken him before, so he didn't know how to cope with the nightmares and his sleepless nights.

Suddenly Stu stands up and walks out the billet, his weapon over the shoulder. Having no idea where to go, Stu just starts setting one foot in front of the next one.


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## DasOmen (Mar 10, 2011)

"who to pick who to pick" thaught the sargent from pandora aloud as he strolled through the train's varrous cars preforming his own simple patroll... it was a tough choice, who could actuately search each car and be good about it... then his mind hit something right off, the sniper... a twisted grin rolled over the the linx's face. emediately the pandoran began thumping... well, thumping was a adequate description of the sound the Sargent made as he moved from car to car, his boots "thumping" into the floor much heavier than standard trooper boots, towards kate's position. it wasn't long before the Sargent entered the troop car and several men posing as the watch snapped to attention. "at ease lads i'm not a bloody commissar... " he mused lightheartedly as he made his way towards the sniper, his path that he paved was a little less than discrete, as he stepped up onto and over a table where guardsmen from another squad were playing cards. 

"ATTENTION IN THE CAR!" he'd bellow, commanding the attention of every last person in the car at the moment. "Specilast Kate! front and center. private Baron Front and Center! All others... PRESENT ARMS!" commanded the sargent as if this was a supprise inspection. "Guns to the right! Kit To the left! Uplifting Primer by your feet!" he waited for a few moments as people started to sturr to the order as good little imperial soldiers did, though he noted hesitation "Be glad it's me doing this and not the commissar. i've got a pack of cigs on me for the cleanest rifle." he added as if to give people intensive to do as they were told.

his eyes scanned the room intently as people moved. "If you have something to report, helmet on the floor! if you're a kreiger, or another deathworlder who uses gas masks or full helms, Extra air filters on the floor instead of your helmet! i want to know about all possible issues here and now so we don't have a issue if we run into trouble." although as he finished giving his orders he looked to the two members of his squad who he had called to front and center. a microbead in the palm of each hand outstretched for the two of them, already commed to the proper channel. 

the Sargent had two more people to get, this wasn't enough... he needed four... "i'm also looking for two volunteers, special assignment! Step forward when i approach you to volunteer! i am not leaving this room until i get those two volunteers... and i grantee you that i'm the one you want here and not one of the commissars!"

the Sargent would get his volunteers, or the commissars attending the party would be very displeased.


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