# The Halcyon Incident



## Scathainn (Feb 21, 2010)

*The Halcyon Incident*
An Imperial Guard Roleplay

_"From now until the end of the world, we and it shall be remembered. 
We few, we Band of Brothers. 
For he who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother."
- William Shakespeare, "King Henry V" -

"We're surrounded. That simplifies the problem."
- Chesty Puller, USMC-_​


Staff Sergeant Atmon Durn stared into the bleak distance of the urban sprawl of Halcyon IV through the open dropship door, slowly chewing the smoldering stub of an Iho cigar. He was not happy. Indeed, he was angry, furious, even. He could be on the front lines of the battlefield, giving those Chaos ingrates a taste of death itself, but _nooooo_, his superiors had other things planned for him. He had been given the “honor” of being yanked from his regiment into some Emperor-forsaken secret regiment he’d never heard of, only to be told he would be going behind the Chaos-cultist-infested enemy lines to destroy an anti-air battery. 

He stomped the floor of the Valkyrie angrily with his steel-toed boot, making a satisfying klang noise. At least they had given him the dignity to select the operatives under his command, a rare honor for special operations; normally the sons-of-bitches in Command would just send you their *****-and-span sons fresh out of Operative Academy with boots so shiny they could blind a man and a uniform crisp enough to cut skin, only to have them whimpering on the battlefield at the first crack of a lasgun. He turned around to face them, noting it had begun to snow lightly outside; it was getting a bit chilly earlier, he remembered.

They were all good soldiers; he had looked at their files and noted each and every one of their combat operations. Watching them mill about as they talked loudly amongst one another while they were strapped in, he observed every one of them in turn.

Cullen, the medic, was snoring quietly as his head rolled back and forth to the tempo of the Valkyrie’s turbulent flight; he had just settled down into yet another map. “Haven’t even got there and he’s already taken two snoozes,” he muttered, but he refrained from disciplining him; they would need the rest, him especially so, seeing as their lives could be in his hands.

Troy, the sniper, kept to himself as he stared into space blankly, lost in thought. At first, Atmon had mistaken Troy for one of those Officer-in-training sons of bitches based on his uniform, but in reality it was a mere quirk of his personality; based on his impressive combat record he would be just fine.

Then there was Karic, his heavy flamer propped up against his side as he visibly struggled at the stench of the Ogryn strapped in next to him. Atmon was a pretty big man himself but Karic was in a whole ‘nother league, although considering the weight of his heavy flamer this was not all that unusual. He’d have to think about the regulations on that beard, however, as much as he did like the style.

Across from Karic was Rachel, the only woman in the squad. As she engaged in idle banter with the two men on either side of her, she noticed the blood-red stripes all over all three of their uniforms; he then remembered they were in that Drop regiment Command had formed, the ones that marked their uniforms for enemies they killed. It was an impressive tally on her uniform; she had obviously been one of the first to arrive.

Hark was a similar story; the scrawny youth talked at length with those around him, his face lighting up with the occasional smile as they all cracked jokes. His uniform was not as red as Rachels, despite the fact that Rachel was obviously much younger; Atmon was unsure what to think of this; was he simply not as accurate, or was he still a bit shaky in his boots?

TK, the man on the other side of Rachel, was seemingly a polar opposite of Hark; tall, slightly gaunt, with long hair (way beyond regulation length, Atmon noted) as black as night; he kept a totally straight face the entire conversation despite the jokes being slung back and forth around him. His file noted his kill rate was pretty good, however; in particular, his accuracy rate was very high considering he used a flamer.

He then turned to look at Liam, silently chewing tobacco as he watched the others converse amongst each other. Out of all of them Atmon thought that Liam was most like himself; straightforward, blunt, to-the-point, and above all, NOT one of those command frakkers. As Liam turned his neck Atmon thought he saw some sort of black mark on his skin; he would have to look into that.

Rico, the melta-gunner, sat directly next to Atmon. His uniform was clean, but not as pressed as Troys, and his meltagun was polished to a shine. However, he was unable to read Rico’s face, as it was covered in an elabourate goggle-respirator fusion, reminiscent of those Death Korps-type’s gas-masks. He would have to get a better look at him later.

Finally, there was Rog, strapped in directly across from Atmon. The ogryn was…well, big, like all ogryns, but the metal plate riveted to his head indicated his status as a Bone ‘Ead, one of those rare-few ogryns who were actually capable of somewhat coherent thought. He would be a good pack-mule, thought Atmon; Atmon would be entrusting the plasma bombs to him, along with rations, extra ammo, and the like.

They were all good men (and one woman); but even the best need a good pep talk before the shit hits the proverbial fan. Atmon began to unstrap himself from the Valkyrie and grabbed onto a handle-beam overhead as he walked slowly to the middle of the drop deck. He grabbed his shotgun from the weapons dock and pointed it out the open drop door.

“Out there, ladies and gentlemen, is our own personal hell!” he bellowed over the noise of the dropship as it increased speed. “You think that this is a piece of cake simply because it’s not one of those ‘deathworld’ types? Well, you’d be wrong! Out this door is three hundred million square miles of factories, bunkers, fortresses, manufactorums, warehouses, smog depots, refineries and assembly lines, all trapped, radded-up, barbed-wired, turret-guarded, and generally painful, not to mention the Chaos frakkers we’re here to frak up in the first place, the ever-present threat of friendly fire from our own shit-for-brains dogface new fish fellow troops, and the leftover, insane-ass machines and tech-boys wandering the planet in packs like a bunch of wolves with a narcosin overdose! And if you think that’s peachy enough, I’m sure you’d _loooove_ to hear the news of the terrific summer weather we’re experiencing right now, with temperatures reaching a balmy -7 C’s at best during the daytime, bottoming out at a cool -50 C’s at night!” He paused from his rant for a moment to catch his breath before beginning again.

“This is not one of your run-of-the-mill Juvie-Scout picnics here, this is a war! A war with a very clear objective we MUST fulfill; if we can’t get those anti-air batteries destroyed, this planet ain’t getting SHIT for reinforcements, and the Emperor can just kiss our asses goodbye! Now, then, in order for us to fulfill said mission, you must do one thing and one thing only, and that is obey every Emperor-damned word I say! IS THAT CLEAR?”

He was greeted with a hearty “SIR YES SIR!” from every soldier on board, including the medic, who had been woken by Atmon’s screaming. “Good then! Now, how’s about we try that last order out, shall we?” Slamming his fist into a button nearby the open Valkyrie door, klaxons began to blare inside the drop bay; the soldiers instinctively grabbed hold of the security bars by their sides with one hand and strapped in their weapons and grav-chutes with the other, assisted by the bay’s mechandrites.

Atmon paused briefly and observed the crew gearing up as the ship’s servo-arms strapped on his grav-chute. Smiling, he spit the Iho cigar out of his mouth into the air, pulled out another one, along with something else, and lit his second cigar, his movements slow and delibarate. “Now then, repeat after me!” he yelled, his fist enclosed around the concealed remote he had removed from his pocket. 

*“DROP!”* 

He pressed the only button on the remote with a swift motion and let go of the overhanging bar as he and the rest of his squad tumbled out the Valkyrie, laughing the whole way down.


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## Chocobuncle (Feb 5, 2009)

Half asleep while inside the valkyrie, Cullen found it hard to sleep with the constant rumbling of the ship and the chattering among his new allies. Just dazing into his mind while he snoozes away. He was startled by Staff Sergeant Atmon Durns speech and tried to wipe the drool off the side of his face, he focused all his attention to the Sergent not missing a word. He felt raised and strong with his powerful words, looking up to how strong and courageous Sergent Atmon was.

Shouting *"SIR YES SIR!"* at the end of the speech he saw the Sergent drop from the carrier laughing and replied.

*"DROPPING SIR!"*

Scared beyond measure, since Cullen always was afraid of heights, he admired Staff Sergeant Atmon Durns enthusiasm. He wondered how can this crazy man be so fearless but then wished himself more like the Sergeant. Swallowing his fears he ran off jumping into the air, strangely he wasn't as afraid as he had been before feeling his heart beating and the swift breeze it brought. Feeling almost invincible with the adrenaline pumping through his veins Cullen let out a cry of excitement.

*"AHH!!! HAHA"*

Following right behind the Sergent into the depths below.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Banter had never really been for him, his wit was not quick enough his tongue loose enough and thus he allowed the words to flow over him, a mellow stream of tame insults and low jibes, all in the name of camaraderie.

The only female of the squad was as usual in the centre of it, her high peels of laughter mingling with the deeper chuckles of the men. The sergeant overlooked them with a critical eye, his shrewd eyes flitting over a slightly leering mouth. He seemed to be one of the all for one, officers are all gits type of sergeants. Not a bad man to have as your squad commander, would like after you like a tigress over her cubs, but well lets just say not his sort.

As long as the best man for the job was his commander he didn't care if he was a prick or not. There was something about being ordered around that well he liked.

The order to drop came and Troy sniffed in distaste, he hadn't been on a drop mission for far too long but it was all the same.

Drop fall shute slow sprain ankle

He placed his rifle over his shoulder, tightening the strap and checking his grav chute as his fingers tightened around the cold metal of the railing.

"Drop" roared the sergeant his little speech ending in practical information as his finger hit the drop button. The wind rushed through his blond hair as he dropped eyes watering, as the ground roared towards him.

He heard his sergeants laughter ringing and Troy tried to roll his eyes, maybe the man was mad, he found nothing to laugh at about hurtling towards the earth at terminal velocity.

He didn't dare open his mouth, he was having enough trouble keeping his breakfast down.


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## Masked Jackal (Dec 16, 2009)

TK participated in the conversation calmly, never really laughing at their jokes, but really watching them. The other members of his squad were important, especially because of the nature of the assignment. TK thought of himself being in an elite force, and a sense of pride washed over him. Now he'd get the chance to be something great!

He interrupted his reverie, which had been characterized with a blank stare, by resuming his observance of the people around him. People showed their true natures during war, it was said, and TK figured that was right. These men were ready, in their own way. There wasn't that tension newbies had on their first drop, where they mostly ended up dying, or being of no use. These were veterans, and TK was proud to be a part of them.

The squad-leader, Atmon, as Thelnus remembered it, started his speech with a dramatic gesture and a powerful voice. TK shifted his flamer to ready position, figuring the ETA was almost none by this point. At the end of it, he yelled with the others, though he far from the loudest, to his disappointment.

Then, the expected order. "*DROP!"* Thelnus followed this order eagerly, falling into the practiced rhythm of someone who knows what they're doing, as he dropped just as he was ordered.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

As the others in the dropship sat and conversed, or in the case of the poor fragger next to the Ogryn, tried to deal with the smell, Liam watched all of them in turn and even watched his new sergeant. He knew the man was giving them all at least a once over, it was only natural once you got to this stage of your guard career, and he liked how the burly man didn't try and hide it. That was good, it showed him that this man knew the extent of his abilities and that he was damn good at kicking his mens' arses if need be.

Suddenly he stood up and gave a speech, a very colorful one at that, but it was blunt and to the point, another plus in Liam's book. At the end of it he got the order to drop and spit his tobacco out before following the sergeant out the door, listening to him laugh the whole way down, Liam smiled but said nothing. 

He had a flashback of some Emperor forsaken shit hole he had had the joy of being able to drop into many many years ago, traitor guard were everywhere, except there it wasnt going to be as cold as this ice rock and there weren't as many factories. That had been an interesting campaign to say the least, he was pulled back to reality and as he rocketed downward after the sarge he looked at all the buildings so close together.....perfect for silent kills and quiet get aways. 

He imagined those in the squad that werent used to drops were having a little bit of difficulty stomaching this right now and chuckled to himself before thinking about the beast of an ogryn that was flying down after him........bastard better not land on him.


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

Hark Varron sat between Racheal and the Ogryn. Whilst breathing in short bursts through a ragged piece of cloth, Hark conversed with the group. He found them to his liking; the sort of people who he could get to like quickly, as long as he didn't blow any of their arms off with his shotgun...

"Good times..." said Hark, aloud. "Hey Racheal, do you remember when I blew that poor sod's arm off? The spanking-new recruit, he ran in the way of an Ork and I kinda didn't see him..." although to tell the truth, Hark had been really miffed by said recruit earlier, "So, I just, shot. Boom, one-armed man!" Hark laughed, although not sadistically. "The best thing is, he thought it was the Ork and says "Hey, gee there Harky-old-pal, thanks for savin' me there old codger!" " More laughter from Hark.

As the sergeant came over, Hark listened. He knew how to drop, he had been in the Hacyclonic 8th Drop after all. Grabbing _Mortriboom_, and his chute, he gripped the rail, before jumping off.

*"DROP!"*

*"YEEEAAAH!!!!* shouted Hark. He loved the drop.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Racheal looked over the rest of the squad as she conversed with the other members of her old regiment. They all looked like they could handle themselves in a firefight, and since they were here they must have been veterans. Some however wouldn't be used to dropping coming from other regiments. She hoped that she would get more headshot kills, her shoulder pads were a little full and soon she would have to find another place for headshot kills. Hark retold her about the time when the recruit ran in front of Hark when he was shooting. _"Yeah I remember that. Got a bionic arm afterwards if I'm not mistaken. Still didn't stop him getting in peoples ways." _Suddenly the Sergeant stood and began to speak. 

At the end of it Racheal muttered to herself, "_Colourful speaker. Better get down there soon_." Before yelling along with the rest of the squad *SIR YES SIR*. As her chute was strapped on she gave it a quick check before waiting for the rest of the squad. She checked that her Kukri were strapped tight, one to each thigh, and that her autogun was secure. She put her helmet on and waited. She didn't have to wait long, all off them yelling *DROP *before she was in the air. This is what Racheal lived for! The air rushing past her, the exhileration.

*HELLL YEAAAH*!


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## CommissarHorn (Apr 14, 2008)

Grinning, Rog sat uncomfortably in the valkyrie, watching his new friends converse among themselves. He really liked his new friends as they all looked really capable fighters which meant more time for Rog to fight as well. 

The Sarge had started talking loudly to the group and Rog stared at him intently, trying to understand what was being said. He was no idiot among his Ogryn brethren but those humans sure did talk fast. 

Knocking on his head while the sarge spoke, Rog understood most of what he was saying. "...hell!" So something was bad. "...piece of cake..." Rog liked cake. "Three hundred square miles of factories, bunkers..." There were a lot of things where they were going. "...generally painful..." Rog and his friends are gonna get shot at again. "Chaos frakkas..." There will be fighting, Rog enjoys fighting. "...machines.." Oh, more tanks. "...bunch of wolves.." More food? 

The sarge said some things Rog recognized as weather descriptions. Then he shouted stuff that all the other commanders liked to shout... stuff about war, destroy, shit, the Emperor and asses. He finished with a yes or no question that Rog nodded to and yelled "DROP!" before leaping out from the valk.

The others were also leaping out from the valk and Rog thought it would be wise to do the same.

Ducking under the hatch, Rog made sure his Ripper Gun was safe and with the small hope of finding food at the bottom, leaped out of the transport.

"RAGHH!!!"


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## bloodthrister (Mar 29, 2008)

Rico checked the ship, a lot of people were marked in red lines, all of them had them on different places. There was an Ogryn, which would probably hang a lot around Rico on the battle field, a heavy flamer and a flamer. Those probably were the ones fighting more on the front. And thus Rico would be more with them on the battle field. Rico noticed however he was the only one who could make a nice dent in a tank if the opportunity rose.

The sergeant started his speach and Rico soon yelled "*yes sir!*" with the others. The hatch opened and Rico checked his grav chute and wether his meltagun couldn't fire when he dropped.

Then he jumped, glad he still had his mask on. It protected his face and eyes from the aweful cold when falling down. He couldn't help but smile behind the mask, while he felt gravity taking more and more grip on his body...


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Karic licked his lips. He tasted raw promethium, wet and sticky and almost chuckled when he realised that when refilling his tanks he must have splotched it across his face. Their leader was talking to them; although Karic was more focused in keeping his Heavy-Flamer rested gently into his side. He could take the entire Valkyrie from the sky if the tanks were to explode, a grim pyre for those within. Although Karic didn’t exactly want to let that happen, he had plans in his life. Or at least whatever was left of it. 

He was ancient for a Guardsmen. The life of most recruits in the Guard tended to average a mere Fifteen Hours, a dark weight upon the shoulders of most. The Elysian’s were different however. Before each man, or the scarce woman, could join the ranks of a Regiment it was regulatory for each to serve in the local PDF. Karic had served with the Fifth Irregulars then, a good bunch of young raw recruits and a small cadre of well trained officers.

The Fifth Irregulars would never march with the Guard however. They fought the piratical organizations which inhabited the outer reaches of the Elysian system. The Irregulars excelled in boarding actions, and Karic had learned many techniques in his three years with them. There was a female with them, laughing with the two men either side of her. The trio bore red marks upon their armoured forms, no doubt a kill tally. 

It was not unknown for Tankers and Pilots to mark their vehicles with such things, but this was the first time that he could recall that he had come across a standard footslogger Regiment which encouraged its members to do so. This would not be the first nighttime drop which Karic had took part in; the most prominent that he could remember was a attack on a Tau outpost deep within the Sand Basin on Ahlaa Beta. 

A brutal campaign that was. Karic bowed his head for a moment, remembering long lost comrades morose feelings overtook him for a moment before he found himself bellowing “Sir Yes Sir!” with his fellows. Why he was doing so had been lost in the ethereal of his daydream however. Not that it mattered of course, he was here to roast some dogs. For that was what the enemy was. Dogs. Mongrels to be precise, the outcasts of society which had banded together into their own pitiful cult. 

The hatch opened, and Karic pulled himself up. Cold wind whipped around his bulk, sliding up his arms in dark slithers. He hefted his Heavy-Flamer from his side as the protective straps fell from his wide shoulders. One hand went around the jut towards the forward end of the weapon, his fingers wrapping tightly around it. The other went down under the rear and wrapped around the leather clad pole there.

His fingers prodded the trigger there, pushing it so that a small tongue of blue-white flame flickered in the dim light. One by one the Guard jumped out of the Valkyrie. They screamed as they went and Karic wondered if they had ever heard of a little thing called noise discipline. Silently he trudged towards the gloom, letting the flame at the muzzle of his weapon die out as he loosened his grip. 

He nodded to the man in the Sergeant stripes, Atmon wasn’t it? And threw himself out. It wasn’t a particularly large drop, then again the Elysian’s were used to dropping from extreme heights. He made no roar as he went, no chuckle of joy or boorish comments. His Heavy-Flamer was pointed upwards from the ground so that no damage would be dealt and his Urumi was curled at his side, the flexible blades sliding against one another silently. 

They had been blackened earlier by him while he was still in the company of the Elysian soldiery. He would not allow himself to give away the position of his team. He saw the ground encroach him; and sighed. Just another day in the Guard.


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## Scathainn (Feb 21, 2010)

Being the first to drop, Atmon was the first to land…besides the Ogryn, of course, who hit the ground earlier with a dull thud due to his massive body weight; the grav-chute didn’t carry him very well, but he would survive the fall…probably. He rolled briefly in the air before his grav-chute activated and floated him to the ground like a feather in the wind. Of course he deactivated it a few feet above the ground so he would drop violently on his legs; he reasoned it kept him in shape. 

Immediately after he landed he unslung his trusty shotgun, it’s familiar weight giving him a sense of awareness. He tapped the Ogryn on the shoulder to confirm he was still alive; Rog groaned briefly and stood up. Meanwhile, Atmon took a look around the area to confirm it was secure; he had already mapped out the area due to its distance away from the anti-air battery, but it couldn’t hurt to be secure. It would take a little more walking to get there, but nothing these soldiers couldn’t handle.

As he made sure the area was clear, the remaining soldiers floated to the ground in one piece, and, a few moments later, the remaining supplies (including the precious plasma bombs) floated down on a grav-lift and landed with a small thunk.

“Allllllllllllrighty, boys and girls, have a nice trip?” he yelled, to which the soldiers responded with a variety of replies, mostly hearty laughs from the experience drop-troops and mostly groans from those not experienced in dropping before. “Good to hear,” he replied, ignoring any actual responses. 

“Now, then, first things first, get your shit out of that supply palette; we don’t want it to take up all this space, do we?” He made that last comment sarcastically as he waved his arms around in a circle; there was literally nothing to see in any direction except light snowfall and hundreds and hundreds of buildings in various stages of decay. He turned to Rog. “Rog, you take those big bombs, ok?” he asked, speaking slowly and without many big words; he still needed to test his relative intelligence. 

The soldiers retrieved their supplies; ammunition, rations, day-packs, grenades, and other miscellaneous odds and ends. The soldiers also began to dress themselves in the warmer synthi-fur combat suits, as did Atmon; it would be nightfall soon, and he wasn’t ready to freeze to death before the mission even started. Within a minute the palette was stripped completely of all supplies; he liked how they already were working swiftly and as a team.

“Alrighty, now that you’ve got your Juvie-Scout gear, let’s find us a nice little glen to roast marshmallows and sing songs, ok?” Atmon bellowed. He enjoyed treating them like children; it let them know that he was in charge, although it created resentment in some cases. Of course, Atmon didn’t give a frak what they thought; he was their leader, and they were his grunts.

They set off north to a small warehouse Atmon had noticed while circling the drop zone. As they approached, Atmon reverted to hand signals, ordering the squad to split into five teams of two; two teams would circle the building to check for auto-turrets, the rest would go inside to make sure it was uninhabited. They executed the order swiftly; Rachel and Karic went left around the building, Liam and Troy went right, and the rest headed inside. 

As Atmon’s team entered they swept their guns throughout the room and activated their gun-mounted flashlights. They were in for a treat. Not only was the warehouse empty, but it was full of ammunition and weapons, mostly small arms like autoguns and lasguns; the bigger weapons had evidently been scavenged already. There was also a Chimera in pretty good condition, but Atmon didn’t need it; this was a stealth mission, and it would make too much noise.

“Alrighty, the coast is clear, ladies and gentlemen!” he yelled as the two outside teams went back inside after a few moments. “Now, let’s set up here for the night, looks pretty safe.” They began to set down their bags onto the ground, and a few took the initiative and searched the warehouse for wood for a fire. They returned a few minutes later with a sizeable amount; Atmon noticed a stack of wooden palettes further down the warehouse, some of which they had evidently broken down into wood.

“Watches will be in teams of two, maggots,” he talked loudly; it was impossible for Atmon to speak quietly unless they were in full-out stealth mode. “Myself and Liam first, followed by Karic and Hark, Cullen and Rog, TK and Rico, and finally Troy and Rachel. We move out at 0600 tomorrow, so sleep tight.” The rest of the soldiers fell to sleep while Atmon motioned to Liam to take post at one entrance; Atmon obviously took another. He cocked his shotgun lazily; that first long night began.


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## Chocobuncle (Feb 5, 2009)

Slowly drifting down from his Grav-Chute Cullen grunted as he hit a the ground with a loud thud. Still shaking from the excitement and adrenaline rush Cullen took off the chute and orderly went to grab his equipment and supplies from the palette with the rest of the group.

Cullen eagerly put on his synthi-fur combat suit as he could already feel his nose and ears getting cold. He felt warmer already as he suited up feeling a great relief he wouldn't freeze to death.

Following the rest of the group as Sergent Atmon ordered them to check a nearby building for anything. Cullen went from room to room with his trusty lasgun finding nothing but old left over equipment and dust bunnies. Cullen later put down most of his equipment to gather some wood, not wanting to look like he couldn't handle some wood he carried quite a large amount before going back to the camp inside the building. Gathering much of the wood into a large pile while saving some on the side for later Cullen started the fire.

As Sergent Atmon gave out the order of shifts for watch Cullen was surprised that he was paired up with the Ogryn. He never really talked to one, usually seeing them as kinda too stupid and annoying but didn't mind this time as Rog seemed like he liked to talk so Cullen wouldn't have to, he was sort of happy knowing at least he won't be bored during his watch.

As he waited for his turn for watch duty he eagerly set up so he could get some much needed rest. The little naps he took on the valkyrie seemed to make him more sleepy as the constant noise from the engines and chattering of the rest of the group kept him half awake the whole time, dozing in and out of sleep.

As he laid down Cullen felt uneasy without something close by, so he took out one of his knives and gripped it close as he finally and easily fell into a deep sleep until his shift came.


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## bloodthrister (Mar 29, 2008)

Rico felt glad when he finally landed on the earth. There was nothing better than the feeling of some good solid ground underneath your feet. He looked around and waited a few minutes, listening to Atmon's speach.

The supplies dropped and Rico picked some of the day rations, one of the warm synthi-fur coats and 3 frag grenades. He didn't need krak grenades, because he had a nice melta with him. 

The walk towards the cottage was pretty boring and there was no opposition within the cottage as well. There were shifts and Rico heard he'd get to patrol with TK. That was the guy with the flamer. A pretty dangerous combo in Rico's opinion. If anything were to happen and they had to fire they'd both light the place on fire...

While trying to fall asleep he could feel the adrenaline rushing through him. Probably still from the drop and he also had the feeling something was about to happen. Rico decided to go look for a weapon which wouldn't light the place on fire if anything happened during their guard. He pretty soon found a laspistol. Rico looked on and found a fast flashing light, meant to be attached to a weapon. Very useful for night-fights. He picked it up and tested it quickly. It worked... Rico walked towards the place Atmon'd be on guard and silently warned him before approaching him. Rico explained the situation and asked wether he could test the laspistol. It'd probably scare at least one of them if there were sudden gunshots.

After that Rico went to sleep. His body and mind had calmed down and he slept like a rose.

OOC: If it's not fine with you to have a laspistol with me, just make the weapon fail or something, during the test


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

His feet hit solid ground and he allowed his legs to collapse rolling left he lay still for a moment allowing the adrenaline rush to subside, as the gravchute foated dwon upon him, encasing his vision in darkness. It calmed him and slowly he unstrapped his las rifle and chute before struggling free of the fabric. Carefully he folded it packing it back into the casing of the shute. 

He liked to keep his shute with him, you never knew when you could use it to sow a hole in your uniform, or make a new shirt, or when you might need a little extra drag to slow you down. 

Activity suddenly spent he felt the cold gnaw at him and he groaned inside reaching for his synthi fur suit and quickly swiping his ration packs. The chill subsided as he shrugged the suit on, hearing the systems click as warmth flooded his bones and his midriff and upper thighs were raised to a more amibent temperature. Skin tight gloves were essential, warming his extremeties whilst ensuring his fingers were dexterous and he pulled them from an inside pocket as he attached the long knife and a couple of grenades to his belt. The magazines for his long las lay in the tray and he snatched them up before checking the mechanism of the rifle, re assembling it and swinging it over his shoulder. No point being caught with his pants down if he could avoid it, he much preferred to do the catching.

“Alrighty, now that you’ve got your Juvie-Scout gear, let’s find us a nice little glen to roast marshmallows and sing songs, ok?”

The childish comment made troy smile, a little inferiority never heart. As long as the sergeant showed them who was boss it was all ok, unless he was incompetent then troy would shove that metaphorical toasting fork somewhere where the sun don't shit.

Not the only thing you'd.... he pushed the thought away. Na amon wasnt for him ,the melee of scars made him look like he'd been caught between a knife shop and an electromagnet shop about the time of the big switch on.

They were moving out now, over the barren mass of buildings and snow, crystal white rising in puffs around there feet. Pretty, yet the various states of decay told other ideas about the picturesque scene. An ironic contrast of beauty and death, alot like the world really.

A warehouse ahead was Amon's target and Troy lagged behind the group as they crested a smile rise placing the scope to his eye he scanned the doorway and any openings present, searching for a sign of movement in or around the house. Nothing to report and he moved up to the back of the group as the serg began making signals. 

His name came amongst the first... too the right with... he looked around. A stocky soldier, eyes glinting like green stones above a strong clean shaven jaw. He gave a short nod to the soldier yet his mind was running else where.

The sergeant most definitely wasn't incompetent, a sniper had a much better chance against auto turrets than he did against small arms fire inside a building.

As they moved to the right of the building eyes darting into the mass of buildings he let out a small mutter.

"If anything comes round the cornor I hope your a quick shot because I've only got a knife,"

he drew it slightly to allow the long steel to glint slightly before allowing it to slide back with the low growl of metal on metal.

He allowed Liam to move slightly ahead dropping to one knee, he scoped the area once more, checking building by building for a sign of a smashed window, or the thin red beam of a sentry. Nothing caught his eye and he moved into the building a little after Liam, to find the sergeant adressing the troops.

Last watch with the woman, he nodded to her before moving towards the weapon store. A few more grenades and ration packs were slipped into his belt along with a few spare magazines in the ankle of his boot. he scouted around over the lasguns and autopistols, it was true he was devoid of a side arm, and he been a good shot with whatever he held. 

A small laspistol caught his eye and he snatched it up checking the mechanism and nodding to himself as he pushed into his belt. A few magazines for the pistol followed.

The chimera dominated the scene as his squad scattered to bed down. Pulling open the hatch he slipped inside, leaving it open for any that might care to follow him. 12 seats padded and more comfortable than a stone floor, 3 each for an average humans frame, 4 could sleep in comfort in this bad boy. 

He removed his synthi fur suit, lying the lasrifle atop it and unfolded the chute draping it over him like a blanket. He normally woke up on time, yet surreptitously he set his watch placing his arm under his ear, as he curled into a small ball

He closed his eyes warm under the snug folds of the chute yet stirred as he thought he heard movement outside.

"Close the hatch after you" he murmured dazily "and if you can be bothered switch the heating on."

Sleep came easily to Troy Raef though his dreams were sensored to all under 21.

He awoke before his alarm, awaking easily and quickly, he stretched refolding the chute and slipping back into the synthi fur suit, shivering as the freezing temperatures bit at him before the suit acclimatized his body. He left his hood down as he moved down the ramp of the chimera, checking his watch

3 minutes till his watch. He nodded to the two huddled figures, at the doorway his eyes searching for the black hair of Rachel amongst the scattered heads of sleeping veterans. He spotted her eventually and moved over picking his way carefully till he loomed above, shaking her shoulder gently.

She awoke, reflexively gripping his arm in a vice like grip before looking into his eyes and he smiled reassuringly

"Two minutes to watch, meet me by the door. She released him and he felt the blood return to his fingers as he picked his way over and looked out into the darkness. Gently he shifted his rifle strap and watched the snow fall, waiting for Rachel to join him.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Racheal was falling fast through the air, the ground rushing up to meet her. She quickly deployed her grav chute, and floated gracefully down towards the Earth. A feww feet above it she unstrapped herself and leapt clear, rolling as she hit the deck to lessen the impact. She could feel the adreniline rushing from her body after the exhileration. She took a few deep breaths before walking calmly over to her chute. She quickly hid it and checking that her Kukri were still attached to her thighs she stepped over to the pallet.

She quickly grabbed her Synthi fur suit and could feel the warmth in it. She then pocketed some day rations, and grabbed her magazines for her autogun. She loaded one magazine in, with a satisfying click. With the Sergeant treating them like children, the squad moved out. Racheal moved with the group until they located a warehouse. Atmon quickly ordered the squad to split into three fireteams. Racheal and the big man, Karic she thought his name was, bringing up the heavy flamer went to the left. Racheal followed behind Karic, it would pretty counterproductive for her to be in front of the flamer. She watched his rear before the all clear signal was given. 

Racheal entered the warehouse, spotted most of the group by the fire and sat and joined them. Atmon said she had last watch with Troy so Racheal settled down near to the fire. She settled down and managed to get a few hours sleep before someone shook her shoulder. She instantly grabbed whoevers arm it was, and her other hand reached for one of her Kukri. Luckily it was only Troy who was waking her for her shift. 

"Two minutes to watch, meet me by the door." With that he was gone. Racheal streched quickly before grabbing her autogun and heading for the fron door. When she got there she nodded to the two on watch and said to Troy.

"_Cheers for the wake up Troy." _She shifted the weight on her feet, "_Dont want to be caught sleeping on duty."_


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

As Liam got closer to the ground he cut his chute and rolled as he hit the ground to lessen the strain on his joints. He took his chute and folded it up before burying it in a pile of trash to hide it from any enemies that might happen to come this way on a patrol. He made his way towards the pallete and pulled out his camo cloak and autogun, he put his camo cloak on over his synthi fur suit and his suppressor on his autogun. As Atmon asked them all about thier drops Liam smiled, *"Same shit different day sir."* and followed the rest of the group as they made thier way toward a building that looked like a warehouse. 

He and one of the snipers, Troy if he remembered right, were sent round the right side of the building to check for anything that would be detrimental to thier health. *"If anything comes round the cornor I hope your a quick shot because I've only got a knife," *Troy pulled out his knife a bit to show Liam before sheathing it again. Liam chuckled, _*"No worries kid,"*_ he reached behind his own back under his camo cloak and half unsheathed his large bowie knife, *"Sides, mine's bigger."* The whole time speaking his attention forwards and round the corner of the building.

They made thier way inside to find many many autoguns and lasguns along with ammo and a good looking chimera that was sat right in the middle of the warehouse. Atmon and him had the first watch and Liam nodded at the sarge before heading towards his door and finding a nice little place to hide. He wrapped his cloak around him to help himself blend in with the grey of the building and the snow and hunkered down keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of movement. 

He knew his shift was over when he saw his replacement straining to try and find him, he got up and made his way inside and sat himself next to Atmon.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

*This is earlier to Liam*

Troy gave a small chuckle his grin flashing as liam said the words

"Mines bigger"

His retort was simple and honest

"I've met many men with big ones, doesn't mean they knew how to use them"

He gave a small mysterious smile unsheathing his own knife and holding the blade into the light

"Small but immensely powerful"

________________________________________________________________

*This to rachel*

The window reflected a hazy image of his visage, his blond hair slightly tousled by sleep, and he flicked his head, before running long thin fingers through the blond locks, dragging the fringe lazily across his left eye.

A pretty boy indeed, though the scars across his abdominals showed that his life had not been delicate, the life of a bouncer was always rough, yet Troy had been lucky. He had been in the game barely 3 months before being thrown into jail and had only been gashed, never butted. Some would say that being gashed was a worse fate, but Troy felt a pretty face was worth far more than a scar and major bloodloss. At least he got to choose who saw the scars.

He unshouldered the rifle biting back a yawn and placed it against a cracked pain of glass, resting it on the frame before squinting down the scope once more.

The womans voice came from behind him and he turned to look at her, tousled and unkempt, fresh from a nights sleep

"Cheers for the wake up Troy."

She shuffled slightly as his crystal eyes fell upon her, would she fall under his spell. Many had, if he had batted for that team he would never have gone home alone, he was sure of that.

He was blonde haired blue eyed, tanned pure skin, tall and toned, scars of a soldier.

He gave a small self satisfied smile, the only thing that put them off is quite often he was prettier than they were, and he didn't have to bother with make up.

"Dont want to be caught sleeping on duty."

He nodded his tone impassive

"First watch and last watch are easiest and most important, most enemies like to attack at the crack of dawn, though i doubt daemons would be so impartial. Whatever they are, we should see them coming along way off."

He patted his rifle gently embracing the brotherly caress of metal and master.

He glanced at the mass of stripes adorning her armour and his eyes widened slightly, he nodded to her shoulder pads

"Impressive for one so young"

He looked up a small smile curling his lips

"I met a sniper," yeah... met...

" maybe 10 years older than you, admittedly snipers are less useful in the drop companies, yet I'm almost certain he had fewer stripes upon his shoulders than you do. Admittedly he was a fan of the underarm into the heart, said it worked better on traitor marines, yet still a very impressive tally...."

He gave a small white toothed smile, his eyes flitting over the stripes, quickly counting.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

*This is for Troy*

As they turned the corner of the building and Liam saw that nothing was within range of hurting them he responed to Troy as he stood up, *"Believe me kid, you been in the gaurd as long as I have and you know how to use something like this to deadly effect."* he locked his emerald green eyes with Troy's icy crystals, the weight of his long life and experience showing behind them towards the sniper.

*"I'm good at noticing small details about things, that's why I've been in the Elysian's Drop Recon all these years and made it out alive each time, I'm lettin you know now I'll probably be the one spotting for you way up in the front so don't take too long to get that shot off."* He knew about Troy, it was actually quite obvious, at least Liam thought it was and he wanted to make sure that Troy knew he didn't swing that way without making it awkward so he decided to be blunt as always, *"On a side note, I don't swing that way kid.....so no lookin at my old arse when you're looking down that scope." *he hoped that the he didn't seem like too much of an asshole but he had never really dealt with someone like Troy and just wanted to make sure. 

He was sure the kid was one hell of a soldier, he certianly had to be to get on this assignment, *"I look forward to working with you kid."* he patted him on the shoulder before motioning towards Troy's sniper, *"And that beast of course too."*


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## Masked Jackal (Dec 16, 2009)

TK's feet thumped underneath him as he hit the ground, one of the last, to his chagrin. He quickly made his way to the supply palette, and grabbed his things. Several tanks of spare flamer fuel, reserve batteries for his lasgun, goggles, warm fur clothes, and other odd assortments of things needed for the mission. He dressed and sequestered away these items quickly, eager to get to the hunt. 

Not long later, they made their way north, according to the compass on TK's belt, and quickly encountered a warehouse, where Atmon, for lack of a nickname, ordered them off in a typical search pattern. Nobody was in there, making it mere precaution, but a good one to follow. There was a pretty nice stash in this building, including a Chimera, and a variety of small-arms and ammunition. Atmon told them the order of the watch, and that they were bunking here. _Good choice,_ TK thought. _th_at _way I won't have to freeze out there._ He took off the survival backpack he had strapped to himself earlier, and set it down by a good pile of ammunition, taking a spare flamer tank from the pile, and stuffing it in his bag. _Can't have too many..._ Ending that thought, he laid his head down on his pack, cradling his flamer in his right arm, and going to sleep.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

(Liam once more)

Troy puffed out his chest in mock indignation at Liam's words but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He had not exactly been careful around the grizzled veteran, a lax error, yet it seemed to have done no damage, the grizzled veterans humour was good.

"One I'm outraged at your insinuations, we were discussing knives, however i will go on to say this. There are several things I've learnt in my time in the army. Primarily, such insinuations can get a man seriously hurt if it falls upon the wrong ears, so it is advisable to keep them to ones self as certain members of the troop like there faces the way they are. Two, if you are thinking its backs to the wall time, get over yourself, the paratrooper may have some appeal but it is very true that the pretty boys prefer their men, let us say taller and stockier, consequentially however nice your ass maybe I'd rather look at the ogryn. Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't take that message to heart or pass it on to our gentle giant in question."

He flashed a smile hoping William wouldn't take the ogryn insult to heart, the ogryn was far from his type, and take it as a gentle jibe.

"Finally I've seduced many a girl in my time, what i did to them later, is the stuff of legend."

He walked them home, left and never looked back... legendary indeed

He patted his sniper gently, 

"As for my speed with the rifle, just point me and watch them fall. However it is most definitely true to say, a sniper is only as good as his spotter. I will enjoy working with you too Liam, though fuck up and i'll rip your balls off, no matter how good looking you think you are."

He moved on a little further flashing a beaming smile of white teeth over his shoulder before dropping to one knee and checking his scope once more


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

*To Troy:*

Racheal listened to Troy about how important first and last watch was. She knew that anyway, but it didn't matter, new squad you need to check to see if everyone knows whats what. It was true though, Troy and Racheal could see for miles if anyone should show up. She smiled as his eyes widened slightly at the kill count on her armour and murmmed something about how impressive it was for someone so young. Racheal pretended to be offended, it wasn't everyday that someone commented on how young you were in relation to you kill ratio.

_"I may be young but I've been fighting in the Guard for over a decade. It's from being in the right place at the right time that counts not age."_ Racheal smiled at Troy. She was pretty certain that Troy wasn't really interested in her, and she would stay 100% focussed on the mission ahead. Though whatever Troy's real motives and desires would remain a mystery for now. Racheal pulled her helmet on and grabbed her autogun from her shoulder moving to a stack of crates for cover, just in case.


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

Hark hit the floor, easily landing from the chute-drop. Quickly putting on his synth-suit, Hark soon noticed the cold reduce. As they made their way towards the abandoned buildings, something pulled at him. Something wasn't right.

"Sarge, I don't like the looks of this place," he muttered, aiming _Mortriboom_ down dark alleyways. "We need some kinda light." he said, and searched his pack for some flares. Drawing out three, Hark set them down in a small maintenance cuboard. He emptied out all the rubbish, and set down his pack. He found some plastek sheeting, and rolled it out on the floor of the cuboard. Finding a bucket, Hark set one flare in the bucket. It illuminated his cuboard with a red glow; it was surprisingly roomy. Hark loosened his knife in it's sheath, and loaded his shotgun. Now to wait for his shift. He knew he wouldn't sleep until well after his shift, so he simply sat and watched down the corridor that lead to his cupboard.

When his shift came, Hark stood up, stretched out, grabbed his shotgun, and put out the smouldering flare. Walking out, he shut his cupboard, and started across the echoey floor. He didn't know where his watch-mate was, but he could patrol this side whilst he patrolled the other. The watch went mostly without event, until Hark heard noises coming from deeper inside the building. He heard footsteps and hushed voices, and the scraping of metal. Reaching a kind of workshop, Hark called out "Hello? Anyone there?"

A frantic scrabbling came, and Hark hefted his shotgun, and fired one of the barrels. A deafening, echoing boom sounded, and something cried in pain, but scrabbled away. Hark couldn't see in the dark, and by the time he had lit his flare, whatever had been there had gone. There was a door set in the floor, with a huge lock; whatever it was had been scraping at the lock. 

Hark returned to his cupboard after his shift; he would tell the rest what happened in the morning. For now, he lit another flare, shut his cupboard door and locked it firmly, and got some sleep.


(Sorry about late post, Heresy was playing up for me.:threaten


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## CommissarHorn (Apr 14, 2008)

Before Rog knew what was happening, he heard a loud thump followed by dirt hitting him in his face. He wasn't the biggest fan of droping from metal ships. 

Standing up, Rog's legs hurt again. They hurt last time he dropped aswell. 
Punching them he sorted it out. 

The sarge was commanding again and this time he issued Rog some orders.

“Rog, you take those big bombs, ok?"

"Sarge!" Rog slapped his head with his massive hand (saluting was still something he needed to learn). Picking up the large metal things, the Ogryn effortlessly threw them onto his shoulder and happilly, although somewhat cold (Rog was still wearing a singlet), moved off with his squad.

Entering the warehouse with the sarge, Rog saw the Chimera and smiled. "Deres da mashene!" The sarge said there was gonna be some tanks ealier, now all that was missing was the cake and wolves. Rog was getting hungry.

The sarge told them what they'd be doing, giving Rog night duty with Cullen who Rog noticed, wore the same uniform as his own original regiment. Rog had never seen this friend before though, maybe he was shy?

As the others were readying to sleep, Rog went exploring around the building.
Punching a door apart, the Ogryn stepped into a small office. "No food?"
Suddenly he remembered the stash of Ogryn rations his friends gave him before he left on this new mission. Sitting down beside Cullen, Rog tried to take some of the food out but he couldn't move his arm.
"Oh! Dats where dey were!" Realising he still held onto the plasma bombs, Rog placed them beside himself very, very gently. Rog grimiced as he still remembered what happened the last time he was given to hold the bombs.

Reaching into his pants, the Ogryn brought out a huge chunk of cooked meat and satisfied, he sat munching the chunk surrounded by his new friends.


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## bloodthrister (Mar 29, 2008)

Rico heard a loud bang and immediately stood on his feet. He had only slept for about 10 minutes and already there was a fight?
Rico picked up his meltagun and immediately ran to where the sound probably came from. A flare was burning, so Rico ran towards the flare. "_What's wrong?_" he asked to Hark. "_Don't tell me you were shooting ghosts..._" Rico said, slightly angered.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

To rachel

She moved away from him picking up her autogun and hiding behind a stack of crates, a distance away yet still within earshot and he riposted quickly, surprised to hear mock offence in your voice, it had indeed been a compliment

"Still for an autogunner to take so many skulls is mighty impressive, your time of service is neither hear nor there. I have seen guardsman of 20 years with a lower tally, i myself have served 13 years, and i would say you easily outstrip me for kills, though i would say, headshots, no contest, the curse and perk of a sniper one could say."

He kept his eye down the scope studying the terrain outside as he spoke. To his eye nothing moved, all was quiet...


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

_Earlier, to Rico_

"There was definitely something there, I heard scrabbling, something tried to run away when I called out, and when I shot I _hit_ something, and it cried out, but escaped. And look here," Hark said, holding up the flare, "Blood-drops. All around this lock, where the thing was. It was trying to get inside; perhaps we can use those plasma bombs in the morning to take a look at what was so important." said Hark, scanning the area for any signs of movement.

"Well, anyway, that's my shift over. I'm gonna get some sleep, hopefully." said Hark, disturbed that the thing was still out there. Watching.


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## Masked Jackal (Dec 16, 2009)

TK woke, but not fitfully, when the bang came from farther away. Slowly, he brought his flamer up, and searched around, noting how another of the guardsmen woke, and went to one of the men on watch. Hark, if he remembered correctly. TK set down his flamer again. They'd be a lot more worried if there was something urgent, and besides it wasn't his watch yet. Still, there was his sleep ruined, it'd be hard to go back to sleep. Regardless, he closed his eyes, and attempted.


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## Chocobuncle (Feb 5, 2009)

When Cullen saw Rog come sit next to him he noticed just how big Ogryns were in person. He saw Rog digging in his pants for something and laughed as he saw him struggle at first while carrying the bombs. Cullen chuckled thinking how funny it was but started to like the Ogryn. When he saw Rog pull out of meat Cullen remember how hungry he was so he took out his own rations of a little meat and bread. Feeling very good about the mood and company of each other Cullen then began talking to Rog.

He knew Ogryns weren't very smart but wasn't sure how much, just using simple words though. Cullen thought he would enjoy a nice little talk while eating some nice food.

*"So how are you Rog?"*


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

To Troy:

Racheal heard Troy insist upon what he said earlier. Racheal felt a wave of pride surge through her at mention of her skills with an autogun. She always loved it when someone did compliment her skill sincerely. She quickly pushed her pride down. She didn't need to get arrogant now, it could affect her preformance in the mission. She mumbled her thanks to Troy, knowing as he said though that he would have more headshots being a sniper and all. She quixkly checked to see if she had her markers on her if she needed them. Her markers were positioned on her right thigh next to her Kukri. On the other side was more red marks, marks for the kills with one of her Kukri. Her left thigh was the same, though it had fewer marks on it.

Racheal glanced out from behind her cover, before laying down on the cold floor, giving her cover for most of her body, and allowing her to keep a lookout for any unwanted visitors that might stumble upon the group.


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## Scathainn (Feb 21, 2010)

The mini-comm in Atmon’s ear buzzed the instant it’s internal clock registered 0600, and Atmon sprang from his bed in a bolt. He quickly grabbed his shotgun and swept the room, just to be safe. At the main enterance to the warehouse Troy and Rachel stood watch against the door sleepily. He quietly stood up so that the two would not notice him, then walked slowly to the Chimera in the corner of the warehouse. Entering the vehicle, he stepped in as quietly as possible and observed the squad through the windshield.

Then, in one swift motion, he punched the Chimera’s ignition system with one hand and slammed his shotgun barrel into the horn with the other. The blaring klaxon roared in the early morning air, waking the squad with a jolt and scaring the daylights out of Troy and Rachel. Carrion birds perched on nearby buildings squaked and flew away in fear, their fat leathery wings beating a tattoo on the cold morning air.

“Wakey wakey, ladies and gentlemen!” Atmon yelled as he stepped back out of the Chimera, disengaging the engine. The troops groaned and stood up groggily, then snapped to attention at the sight of their sergeant. “At ease, soldiers,” he boomed, slinging his shotgun back into his thigh holster. He loved that holster; he could just whip out his trusty sidearm at a moment’s notice and he barely had to flick his wrist. “Now, let’s get some grub, crew, we’ve got a long day of marching ahead.” 

The soldiers began to dig out their prefab meals from their packs, cracking open the sealed containers and activating the auto-heat mechanisms which instantly cooked the meals to a lukewarm, somewhat edible breakfast. Atmon’s dish of choice was an Imperial Guard classic: fried eggs on synthi-wheat bread, with a side of some sort of meat he cared not to think about. They dug into their meals with pleasure, Atmon along with them; he produced out of the side pouch of his pack a small packet of hot sauce for his eggs, just how he liked them. There was silence for a few minutes as the troops ate hungrily.

Gulping down the last of his meat (he suspected it was horse), Atmon rose and swung out his shotgun again. “Alright, troops, let’s move out of here. Pack your bags, we bounce in five.” The troops hastily placed their supplies in their packs and loaded their weapons with highly disciplined motions.
With a hand signal from Atmon, the troops exited the building, taking care to sweep their weapons over any metal they saw for fear of any still-active autoturrets. “We have quite a bit of ground to cover, boys and girls, so get used to your feet feeling a bit frakking’ sore and cold for a while.” 

He then slung out his portable auspex on his belt; the blinking red dot on the green screen indicated the approximate position of the anti-aircraft battery. It looked to be almost 450k; even going a brisk 30k a day the journey would still take more than two weeks. Sliding the auspex back into his belt, Atmon noticed it began to snow again; the distorted and ruin-strewn landscape was beginning to be covered in a layer of dirty, soot-laced snow, like a pile of scrap metal covered by a dirty sheet.

((OOC: We're probably not going to do that watch thing again, way too much back-and-forth for my taste, and it didn't really advance the plot much.)


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## Masked Jackal (Dec 16, 2009)

TK jerked to his feet, bringing the flamer to bear, ready to pull the trigger at the loud sound that erupted in the early morning. Sighing, he set the flamer back down, and listened to Atmon's orders. He followed them gladly, popping a small prefab meal. The contents were questionable, but their utility wasn't, the auto-heat mechanism set them to that annoying, lukewarm temperature that they always did. Grudgingly, but quickly, TK began eating. Better than just staring at it, and not getting anything to eat. Last time he'd done that the dull hunger in his stomach had made sure it would never happen again.

It was done quick enough, before Atmon had finished, leaving TK a precious few seconds to be ready when he said they'd be moving out in 5. Silently, he kept himself inside, watching the others pack up. _Too damned cold here..._ He thought to himself, shivering.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Racheal almost leapt out of her skin, when she heard the chimera's horn, and turned towards it bringing up her autogun. However she saw it was just the Sergeant playing with them all, being a jackass. She turned away uninterested in him muttering to herself. She opened one of her ration packs and after a moment of vaguely staring at it, allowing the auto-heat mechanism to warm it up, she tucked into it. It wasn't the best of foods, hell it tasted horrible, but it would keep her going on the march and thats what she needed right now.

Racheal took a sip of water from her canteen before packing everything up and moving over to the doorway, waiting for the others to finish what they were doing, autogun at her side.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

OOC: That back and forth is the main point of rping, to establish charactor bonds and relationships, reinforce traits etc. I thought it was great personally)

The horn blared and he jumped a foot in the air poking his eye on the snipers scope as he whipped round pistol drawing from his belt and he growled

"Bastard" as Atmon slipped from the cab a great smile on his face, ordering them to grab breakfast and be ready for the march. Troy didn't oblidge, he had been snackinmg for the last hour on watch and was stuffed to bursting, and thus he continued to watch out the window, his vigilance continual as he searched the horizon.

Eventually they exited, Troy packing quickly and neatly, his pack easily slung over his back. They walked quickly moving at a fast pace following Atmon and Troy was suprised as Atmon allowed them to continue together, he was usually employed as a forward scout and he was eager to do so, again, he enjoyed the solitude, the reconnaissance.

Eventually he spoke up, hesitantly not knowing how Amon would react to suggestions

"Sir permission to move ahead as a forward scout. I have often been used thus by my company and I'm sure it would help to know what we are going into."


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## Farseer Darvaleth (Nov 15, 2009)

Hark heard a dull, deep whine; the noise of the chimera blocked by his cuboard's iron doorframe. Stretching, Hark realised he had slept with his face right in front of his shotgun, _Mortriboom_, and that if he had moved only slightly he could've blown his own head off. "He he, lucky old me..." said Hark, packing up his gear. Grabbing an insta-meal pack, Hark stuck it on his cutsom-made stove; an old tin cleaning pot, filled with water from a maintenace hose, amazingly still running, with a propane unit underneath. He cooked the packet, before opening it; hot Imperial grub made all the difference. Eating ravenously, Hark soon felt energised. Drinking from his water-container, before filling the rest up using the hose (filtered by a scratch-built life straw he made at camp) Hark finally packed up the rest of his gear. Shouldering his pack, Hark grabbed _Mortriboom_, checked it had ammo ready, and opened his door.

Walking towards where the rest of the squad was, Hark called, "Sarge, sir, before we leave, sir, there's something you should see." Hark said, in a respectful tone. He started towards the trapdoor, where he had shot the..._thing_ on his night-shift. He noticed, with horror, more scratchings on the lock; _it_ had come back, even after being shot by high-calibre solid slug rounds. "It must be really desparate to get inside," Hark thought to himself shuddering.


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## bloodthrister (Mar 29, 2008)

Rico saw Atmon move suddenly and move towards the chimera. He hadn't slept at all, since the strange creature had shown itself. He did freak out when the horn rang. This was what one'd do on the first day of the new recruits' training. Not now...

Rico ate his meal. It was some kind of synthetic meat-sandwich. He ate it, and was the first to finish it. A few seconds later Atmon himself was finished. Rico decided to do some last cleaning and checkup on his gear and was ready to move out. 

OOC: The night patrols weren't all that bad, though it would've been nice for you to respond, when somebody posted something to you  I posted about the weapon and I'd also kicked you out of bed for the hatch, though there isn't any response to that


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## Scathainn (Feb 21, 2010)

Atmon turned back to Hark as he directed him towards the lock. Waving his hand for the troops to continue marching, Hark showed the lock to Atmon. _"Sarge, sir, before we leave, sir, there's something you should see."_ Atmon took a careful look at the lock. It was scratched and torn in several places, thin incisions but ones that cut deep into the lock, like some sort of talons. "Hmmmm," he mumbled to himself. "Too small to be any sort of blade, or at least not anything bigger than a common knife. Sharper than hell, though. Probably some sort of rat or something, although you never know on this world." He turned back towards the patrol, waving Hark to come with him.

As he rejoined the patrol Troy moved towards Atmon timidly and walked alongside him for a few moments before working up the courage to speak. _"Sir permission to move ahead as a forward scout. I have often been used thus by my company and I'm sure it would help to know what we are going into."_ Atmon grinned. "Sure thing, soldier," he replied, patting Troy on the back with a force that could split a melon. "Just make sure to bring someone else along with you. I'm giving you the jurisdiction to select who, I just don't want some Chaos frakker to catch ya' with your pants down, right?" The sergeant grinned, then regianed his position at the head of the patrol, shotgun sweeping the landscape.

OOC: Ok, massive amounts of OOC incoming:

@deathbringer and bloodthrister: I suppose what I meant was we won't do it for a while until the plot has at least advanced sufficiently, i.e. at least one combat. 

@bloodthrister: I suppose I should have responded, yes, but I didn't want to flood the page with back-to-back GM posts, not really good form :biggrin: better to have a more player-driven story

@All: dark angel PM'd me saying he will not be posting for a while due to exams, and he said the site ate his last post during the update, so for now we'll just keep him in the background a bit. And wish him good luck with his tests by the way!


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

(OOC: No probs)
"Sure thing, soldier,"replied the captain his eyes watering as he choked under t force of his pat on the back
"Just make sure to bring someone else along with you. I'm giving you the jurisdiction to select who, I just don't want some Chaos frakker to catch ya' with your pants down, right?"

Troy gave a sharp nod to the captain and moved down the line to where Liam stood, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Come on soldier, your coming with me, we have a scout trip to do and your the only one I've talked to par rachel, and with all that red she is as visible as....." the metaphor died and he gave a hollow laugh

"Come on," he said moving up the line, his rifle over his shoulders as he scanned the world ahead. It would be good to be apart for a bit


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## Masked Jackal (Dec 16, 2009)

TK checked all his equipment one last time, making sure all the straps were secure, and that he hadn't forgotten anything. He hadn't, apparently, and was all ready to move out. He walked in silence, keeping his flamer out in front of him, though not igniting the pilot light to conserve some fuel, and keep them from being noticed. Wintry environments did wonders to block them from sight, and even a small light could ruin that.

Even while he kept watch for anything suspicious, TK's thoughts wandered. It hadn't been that long since he had joined the Guard really. A couple years, he thought. And already an elite. That brought a smile to his face, though he closed his mouth again to keep the cold from getting in. He guessed that meant he'd done good, even if he didn't know whether he'd survive the next day. Oh well, it was the soldiers dilemma, and it was better not to think about it.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

Liam laughed at Troy's intended joke, *"Aye lets get on with it, I'm in my element up in front anyways."* Liam wrapped his camo cloak around him and brought his suppressed autogun tight up to his chest as they moved down the line and then eventually out of sight.


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## Chocobuncle (Feb 5, 2009)

Jumpping up from the sudden explosion of the Chimeras horn, Cullen quickly took out his knife ready for anything. Still dazed and confused he saw it was Sergent yelling something out as the noise died off. Finally coming to he heard the Sergant tell them

"At ease soliders"

When he also told them they were marching after eating Cullen decided to pack quickly in order to get as much free time to eat as he could. When he did finish packing he looked in his pack for his favorite food, meat. Taking the time to savor the flavor he felt anxious going back out into the cold. Making sure he had all his knives in place just in case anything ever happened, Cullen also triple checked all his equipment. Medipack, lasgun, knives, suits, everything was there. As Cullen finished his food everyone began moving out and he followed behind the rest of the group.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

The landing was easy. Karic felt the winds stride around him, great strands rippling his fatigues like water. However he did not care for that, this was perhaps the thousandth drop he had completed in his Guard life. His khaki chute was turning wildly, and Karic felt the G’s yank at him. Bastard Guard… Was all he managed to think before he struck the snow laden ground, rolling over onto his back in a spread eagled position. This absorbed the majority of the impact, as did the pair of fuel tanks which rested upon his back, liquid promethium sloshing within. 

Quickly he stood, ripping the fat bungee-like straps from his shoulders and immediately took to wrapping the chute into a bundle. Standard practice of the Elysian’s, although he took note that the other member of the Squad from glorious Elysia did not do such a thing. The nearest place for him to hide it was a narrow sewage delivering ditch, which led into a small hole. Dragging it with him, he dropped into the long dried ditch and slipped it into the sewage pipe, although not before detaching the fat clips and chords.

These could come of use further on, and he slipped them into one of his webbing pouches. He could certainly strangle someone with those, or create a laceration with the hooked attachment clips. Returning back to the Squad, he found most of them standing around a palette filled to the brim with supplies. The majority of what he took were spare converters, capable of turning oxygen into raw promethium. However he also lumbered through the ration packs. Most were years old, held in the decks of Munitorum vessels that accompanied the Guard transports.

Rancid stuff, but capable of short boosts of energy. Karic carried several small NRG-Bars with him anyway. These were far more delicious, often taking the flavour of long destroyed food sources, and it kept him awake longer than any rationed food would anyway. He kept silent; not wanting to drawn any attention to himself and when the Squad began to move out he took a position towards the forth. After all, he did not want to catch any of his unfortunate Squad mates in a tide of flames if they were to encounter trouble.

His beard was already laminated by small artistic snow flakes, most of which were melting when they touched. The city was mostly a ocean of rubble and metal spars now, although several buildings still stood tall like spindly fingers reaching for the sky. The flurry was growing heavier now, and Karic lowered his goggles over his eyes, both eyepieces of which were soaking and dripping wetness onto his face. Frakking weather…..

When they came to a warehouse, a large building with a metallic roof, Karic split off with the lady. He went first, his Heavy-Flamer licking the air and emitting a smell of tangy promethium. They clambered up a rubble slope and Karic peered inwards, staring down onto the warehouse’s ground floor. Bisected into various sections by aisles of munitions crates. A well place shell could wipe this place from the planet, and thus it was certainly not somewhere that Karic wanted to be staying. 

He slipped on the way down, although placed one hand out behind him and caught it on a shard of glass. Grimacing he lifted himself up, ripping free the stained sharp glass with his teeth he spat it away and wiped his laceration along his side. It smudged, but he certainly did not care for that. There was other things which he had to focus on after all. When they came back around towards the front, Karic lifted his weapon so that it pointed towards the sky, both hands steadying and slipped in.

The all-clear had been given however he still hugged the cold walls, sliding along towards the left side of the warehouse. Shell casings crunched beneath his feet, crinkling as they slid away or simply cracked. The darkness was illuminated by his single pillar of flame as he went, and he kept his eyes darting back and forth. No frakker was sneaking up on his glorious arse this day. He went down on his haunches when he came to a window, peering out between the twisted rebar’s. 

Flurrying drifts of snow twisted along the landscape, casting a white blanket on most things. Broken glass twinkled. This was perfect territory for a sniper, amongst the ruins there was a thousand places to hide. Not wanting to linger any longer, Karic pulled himself back and briskly marched towards where the Squad currently were. Too close to the entrance for his liking, if something was to charge the frontal way, they would have little time to react or get into cover. Was this Sergeant trying to get them killed?

The night mostly went silently, Karic kept away from the majority and stayed awake. It was far too early for him to sleep, he could survive at least three days without it and still be in combat readiness. He simply placed himself in one corner, below a high arched window which blessed him with a icy breeze, and toggled with his Heavy-Flamer. His time on watch was quiet as he took a seat outside, between a small pile of rock and metal which had a rivet deep enough to shield him from the snow.

Following that he managed to fall into slumber, dreaming of his long gone lover. How he had fallen head over toe for her. She was perfect, elegant and nimble with a mane of blonde hair and regal eyes. He licked his lips just thinking about her. His dream however was ruined when the blaring horn of a Chimera APC sounded, echoing around the warehouse like a gunshot. He stumbled up, quickly munching down the ancient meat from one of his ration packs, almost retching it back up in the process.

When they moved out, Karic once again took a position towards the front. Just another day in the Guard….


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## Scathainn (Feb 21, 2010)

He stood at a distance and watched them from the ruins of an abandoned manufactorum building. Clutching his autogun with jittering hands, his teeth clicking anxiously, the scrawny being kneeled beneath a windowpane and observed them through cracked goggles, his broken gas mask wheezing the whole time. “Hw-hw-hw-hwee zeez zem, yez hwee dooo…” he whispered to himself, manic glee in his eyes. The eight-pointed Chaos star carved into his shoulder glistened with fresh blood, and beneath it the skull-like rune of Khorne branded into his arm pulsed with blood like some kind of profane cyst. He chittered to himself gleefully as he loped down the stairs of the manufactorum into the distance.

He walked for many hours, over rocks and ruins, corpses and carrion, to his master. He moved swiftly and so silently that you could not even tell he was there at all. He was a master of stealth and subterfuge, and his movement through the broken landscape was nothing short of art. The only real indication he was there at all was the constant muttering and clicking to himself, punctuated by occasional bursts of manic laughter to himself.

Finally, he reached his location; a fortified bunker hidden beneath an abandoned ruin. Inside was a gigantic network of tunnels and passages, empty at the moment. This post was not in use at the moment; all the better for him, he supposed. HE would be the one to deliver the news for master…

Hopping aboard a magna-lift, he punched the engage button with a swift hand motion and rocketed forth through the tunnels. The lift shuddered and raced through several different passages, turning at a breakneck pace. Hundreds like him flitted past the blurring lift, their disciplined preparations for battle a stark contrast to his loping, insane behavior. The lift seemed to go on for miles.

Finally, the lift slammed to a halt, literally throwing him out of it. He landed on his knees painfully on the ground, blood welling from what he assumed to be a broken knee. “Blood f-f-foor Khorne….” he whispered to himself, gently lapping the blood.

“_Cease_,” a voice boomed. He ceased licking at the blood and kneeled before the figure hidden in the shadows. “_Speak. Tell me what you know_,” the voice spat from the darkness. It was a voice that chilled him to the bone; as icy and harsh as a glacier, but as deep and imposing as an earthquake. “Hwee found loyalizt zcum, mazter….” the pitiful being whimpered. “Zhey have bombz to destroy hour anti-air b-b-battries, mazter….”

The figure moved in the shadows. “_And did you call a patrol to stop them?_” He licked his lips nervously, the blood still tangy and delicious on his tongue. “No, mazter….hwee th-th-thought hwee zhould tell you fhirst….” There was a deadly silence. “_You thought?_” the voice spoke, questioningly. “Yes, mazter….” the being replied, kneeling on the ground.

With a swift motion a hand shot out of the darkness, pulling the being into the air, a cybernetic hand strangling him. He gasped and croaked for air desperately, the servo-assisted hand slowly breaking his neck. 

“_I do not ask my minions to think for me_,” the voice said. With one fell motion, the hand let go of the being just as a massive powerfist connected with the being’s body. His last thought was seeing the cold gas-masked face of his superior before connecting with the massive fist. The being exploded in a shower of blood, gristle, bone and gore, coating the room in a thick red paste.

With a smooth motion the owner of the voice kneeled down and wiped a bit of blood from the floor onto his finger. He activated his vox with a though. “_Send combat patrols to markerlit coordinates_.” “Understood,” the vox crackled back.

He stood again and slowly wiped the blood-stained finger into his mouth, savoring the coppery taste. “_Blood for the Blood God_,” he whispered.

[[OOC: Well seeing as deathbringer and dark angel are both in the middle of exams, I figured a bit of a background post would be in order; a bit of a hint as to what's coming, I might add :wink: ]]


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