[centre][h2]Several weeks late, aboard the transport vessel [i]Nabat Caelesti[/i][/h2] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/XqMq1zDp/Uzanian-Rifles-Insignia-Detail.png[/img] [@DeadDrop][@Katthaj][@Drunken Conquistador][@Oak7ree][@FrostedCaramel][@CaptainBritton][@Jamesyco][@Hank][@caliban22][/centre] [i]Colonel Sabbadin's Office...[/i] "Ist das jetzt dein Ernst?" The Administratum clerk, who had been standing and watching the Colonel write dispatches for at least ten minutes since giving his initial report, took a moment to realise that he was being spoken to. It had come as more of a mutter in his direction, and the clerk had no knowledge of the Jerman dialect found on Uzania Prime, but he looked to Sabbadin nonetheless. "Pardon, Colonel?" "I said, are you serious? My regiments uniforms will be here 'within the month'?" "Y-yes sir, I'm afraid so." "My soldiers were supposed to march into battle wearing the [url=https://cdn.simba-dickie-group.de/media/shop-dickietamiya/products/500786154/00/detail_zoom/1-72-wwii-warg-aon-ger-gebirgsjaeger-500786154-en_00.jpeg?v=1511160121]uniform of their forebears[/url], and because of some [i]dummkopf[/i] in your Adepta they must now clash with our enemies wearing hand-me-down Cadian surplus?" "I am afraid so, but..." the clerk paused for a moment and gave a shrug, "it is only a uniform after all." A second was all the clerk needed to see that he shouldn't have said anything, the expression on the Colonel's face one that could kill a man if he had been able. Oh how he wished to kill this one. "That uniform," stated Sabbadin as deliberately as he could, "is not [b]just[/b] an item of clothing, a costume, and had best be here in the appropriate quantities within the next two weeks. If they are not, then [i]someone[/i]..." his eyes could not have expressed much more just who that would be, "...will be answering with more than words. Now get out." [hr] [hr] [i]Barrack Block 26Y - Temporary home of the 52nd Uzanian Rilkes and the Baotov 87th Lancers[/i] For weeks now the Fifty-Second had been shacked up in a section of the troopship not too far from the opposing quarters of the Baotov Lancers, a rough rider formation assembled from moustached aristocracy and their baggage train of indentured peasantry, rich sons of stern fathers as puffed up as peacocks in their equally [url=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Lanciers_rouges_de_la_Garde_imp%C3%A9riale.JPG][i]fine[/i] uniforms[/url]. During those weeks in space there had been little enough interaction between the two regiments, the Lancers recently having seen combat and now being moved from one warzone to the other - they were combat-ready, puffed up on their own sense of importance, and in the tight confines of a ship...trouble was almost inevitable. "Zey do look fine, do zey not, Gilbert?" Posited one trooper to the other, his hat tucked neatly beneath his armpit, his blonde hair and moustache gleaming in the dim light of the metallic barracks. More specifically he was leaning against the doorway of the Third Platoons section, a gaggle of his comrades at his back as they eyed the Uzanians with obvious malice. "Ah but of course!" Quipped Sergent Lou Hugo-Lévesque back to his subordinate, "they are like the toy soldier, so clean...so shiny...so...green." A chorus of titters and sneers joined the NCOs words, as his white-gloved hands hovered threateningly close to the hilt of his curved sabre, the Sergeant daring to take a step inside the Thirds warehouse-like barrack-room. "Mmm, it even smells like unused weapons and contains a hint of cowardice." Upon seeing the uniform of an officer - obvious in any regiment - girded about Underleutnant Hasenkamp, his boyish features standing out like a sore thumb, Lévesque raised one hand dramatically to his forehead. "It would appear they even have a [b]boy[/b] leading them! 'ow is zis possible?!" There was further laughter from the thirteen or so Lancers, Hasenkamp turning a shade of downright scarlet as he arranged his uniform on his bed once more, turning away from the taunting and casting his eyes down - though one fist balled itself up anyway. It was clear that the Lancers were out for trouble, Emperor they craved it even, but it was yet to be seen whether they would get any. [hider=PLEASE READ!]A short interim before combat, could be fun. The regiment is now aboard a troopship bound for a warzone, the Third Platoon (our platoon) having been given a very large barrack-room (beds, footlockers, weapon racks etc) near the main barracks of another far more arrogant regiment. It is up to [b]you[/b] how your character(s) respond to the taunts and trespassing of a group of these Lancers into your space - though please remember that they are both tried combatants and spoiling for a fight with men and women they see as inferior to themselves. Please also click the URL links, they're there for a reason, and yes, the Uzanians are Jermanic-descended soldiers that dress and generally operate like the [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gebirgsj%C3%A4ger]Gebirgsjäger[/url] of both the World War 2 Wehrmacht and the more modern day elite German forces. Feel free to read more on this on the front page, also feel free to make your character as Germanic or not-Germanic as you'd like - either way, our [i]battle-cant[/i] is essentially German. Feel free to ask any questions either here or on the Discord. Many thanks for reading![/hider]