[color=#c56f18][u]Hamlin Mehl[/u][/color]

The intense urge to check his casters settings was attempting to move his body without his minds consent and biting down on his tongue was the only thing he could do to keep his focus squarely on the effort of not disgracing himself in front of the entire formation by giving into his bodies untimely demands. He straightened himself out and bit hard enough to the point that he began to taste copper in his mouth as Sergeant Bashil gave something that he imagined was supposed to be a rousing speech before their first taste of war. Before their first taste of what life was really like in their beloved Imperium.

[b]"Listen up, we are going to make our way into this lander in an orderly fashion - our autocannon team to the rear, followed by medics and vox-troopers - the remaining squads of the platoon following in after us."[/b]

Mehl snapped himself out of his near-trance state and undid the vice grip that his teeth had on his tongue as the Sergeant neared what was the end of his short speech. Mehl weighed his options as the idea of being among the first aboard the impressive lander dawned on him. They'd ridden similar craft up to the [i]Divini Muneris[/i] from their muster grounds on Vosmarth. They were unyielding beasts. Massive things that by all accounts should have been able to lift off the very deck they sat on, let alone come screaming into atmosphere under combat conditions. He swallowed back the bile that threatened him as he followed the Sergeant aboard and moved smartly to his place a the far end of the rows of seats. Unstrapping his caster from his back he'd quickly stow it in the slot specifically designed for it and get to securing the rest of his gear quickly after.

With his weapon and caster stowed he plopped into his seat and began to do up the straps about his chest. A solid and satisfying [i]click[/i] signifying that he'd done it correctly he watched with morbid anticipation as the rest of Fourth Squad filed in and took their places, and ahead of them all the loadmaster at the mouth of the open bay of the lander. The man, done up in a flight suit and helmet completely masking his face from view, gave what looked like some urging shoves to the last few to enter the ship before grabbing at the intercom transmitter at his chest. The door began to close and the internal lights of the bay shifted from their warm, if not overly dingy, bright color to that of an eerie red, bathing them all in something that reminded him of death itself. He could see why, he'd used red lights during his time working the Hive, it preserved night vision, and was hard to see from far away, meaning he'd been able to work on things that would have otherwise disturbed the pompous Nobles of the Hive Towers had they been able to spot his work lights from their magnificent views. They were preserving their vision, and allow them the ability to be as undetected as one could remain when riding in a several thousand ton lander to the surface of an enemy held planet.

He shifted nervously in his seat before coming to something similar to comfort in his place. He peered down through the red light and the unnatural shadows it cast on the faces of his fellow Vosmarth. He could barely make out any of them, though a few were easier than others, the Sergeant being chief among those followed closely by the lithe and undersized Haellen. [color=#c56f18][i]'Hell she's too young for this.'[/i][/color] he thought as she seemed to look his way and he offered her a smile in the gloom before he he continued down the row of practically unrecognizable faces. Trying to make out some of the farther troopers toward the front of the bay he gave up as the red gloom made it too hard to pick out faces he knew past a certain point.