Within the rather spartan quarters of the resident Krieg Engineer, Ansgar Staudinger sat at a work bench that he had requested to expediate efforts on maintaining his various equipment. Mainly explosives, but whatever tools he might be tasked with using would see maintenance here. Currently, he was ensuring his shotgun was in as well maintained of a working order as possible. They had notorious failures in their mechanical action, hence the near religious attention that was paid to ensuring it was in smooth working order whenever possible. Even if that was quickly thrown out the window whenever knee deep in the muck of a trench or wading through a half collapsed underground network of saps and tunnels. Rare for a Kriegsman, he was currently not wearing either helmet or rebreather, the latter hanging about his neck while the helmet rested on the workbench corner. The room was secured, so it was a rare case of being able to let the mask down and work without the obstruction of viewing through the rebreather.

	After reassembling the shotgun, the Kriegsman checked the time. He was due to report to the hanger for the next mission, and he took a breath before donning the trademark rebreather and helmet of the Death Korp, going from an individual to another masked, faceless soul of the Death Korp in two smooth, practiced movements. Next came his kit, a duffel bag full of explosives, including several demolition charges, frags, and krak grenades, being slung over a shoulder to rest on his right hip. The bayonet, and entrenching tool, were already resting in their positions on his left hip. Before the shotgun, Ansgar grabbed a pick axe that had served him well during entrenching and sapping operations and slung it into the loop on the left side of his back. Lastly was the Mark 22c he had finished doing maintenance on, slinging it over his right shoulder. At this point, barring the backpack that would carry various miscellaneous items that, for most missions, was left in his quarters these days, there was nothing indicating that this empty room was lived in.

	Departing the room and sealing it behind him, the Kriegsman marched down from the living quarters to the hanger where it seemed several members of the retinue had already arrived. First to be noted was their resident psyker, an unnaturally tall Adrianne Valenthin. Sanctioned psykers were a rarity among the regiments of Krieg, mainly since actually assigning an external individual outside the standard Commissars was not only extraordinarily rare, but a rather cruel act even by Imperial standards, so he had limited dealings with those mutants that could wield the powers of the warp. So long as it remained in the Emperor's service, however, the Kriegsman would brook no complaints nor arguments. His greetings were muffled and professional, the former due to the rebreather, the latter out of habit. "Ma'am."

	Stepping past her, next was the tech heretek. Ansgar was not a fan of her, less so than he was of the psyker, since at least the psyker was a part of official doctrine. The mercenary was being used to fill the same role as the Tech Priests would, something that invited a great deal of trouble should they find themselves in the company of [i]actual[/i] Mechanicus forces. Orders were orders, however, and as long as they remained in line with the needs of the Imperium, it would be a presence he would stomach with no resistance. He would maintain his own equipment still, however, that much was certain. Much like before, the greeting was almost a carbon copy of the one aimed at the psyker from before. Almost, since there was slightly more chill in the word than with the psyker. "Ma'am."

	Lastly, but by far from the least, was the leader of their retinue and a welcome sight as far as the Kriegsman was concerned. Celestian Superior Aviza Morgenstern, a Sister of Battle and a senior in rank one at that, would likely prove to be an anchor point in any combat line they formed. Power armor helped, but force of presence had equal play in that as well. A pious sister of battle, powerful and unrelenting, often tempted and cowed the common heretic in equal measures, to prove themselves in felling such a warrior, or left them quivering in the face of the Emperor's wrath. He'd served alongside her kind before, though he was sworn into secrecy over all but the vaguest statements, not that he was ever comfortable discussing what had happened during that campaign. It would be telling that when Tyranids were the least of the threats present, the system had been in dire straits indeed. Mentally shaking those thoughts from his head, he saluted the Celestian Superior, being the only actual superior present despite referring to the other two as ma'am as well. "Ma'am, Trooper 17431, Ansgar Staudinger, reporting for duty."