[center][h2]THE IRON HEARTED[/h2][/center] [hr] [hr] New orders. Opening the data slate up, she would prop it against the wall alongside her desk, taking a sip of her drink as she looked over it. So many formations, and alas, none of them Mordians. She could not say that she was not dissapointed, but this was but a new challenge for her, a new way for her to demonstrate her worth to the Emperor. Sliding the glass down and away from the screen, she realised quickly that her new company command squad would need to be formed. Her eyes scanned it- she knew what she needed, even if she did not know if these fellows would provide it. If they fell, ah well, she could always draw more up from the ranks. A few names quickly stood out to her just from their regiments. Private Charlie of the 107th Cadian and Corporal Servan of the 223rd Mechanized. Excellent, excellent; a few good, stalwart fellows to form the core of the veterancy, and she shouldn't have to worry about getting their training up to date. Dragging their names just below hers, she would continue to look through the list of names and planets, eyes searching carefully. Then, she blinked, once, twice. That string of numbers, a name attached to the end almost as if an afterthought. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka: 382nd Siege Regiment of [i]Krieg?[/i] She raised an eyebrow. How interesting that Kriegers had been folded into this little regiment. Surprised she may have been, but she would nonetheless still place the name into the list of others she was assembling for her command squad. A gunners and gunners mate. Some extra bite. She did not intend to be hanging back and letting others do the fighting, so these two fellows should do nicely, especially if more orks were on the menu. Those [i]trukks...[/i] As ramshackle as they were, she could not deny that the sight of so many orks packed into one, roaring vehicle was not a little concerning, but time and time again they had fallen before concentrated bolter fire from heavy weapons squads. Telaci Vast... There was a whole sentence dedicated to this one, how peculiar. [i]Crash landed naval voidsman, assigned to Hirsit 101st.[/i] It was often said that varied perspectives were needed to ensure victory, and this certainly was a different persepctive. She would add the name on, looking now for a few more senior faces to hold things together. She found them in a sergeant and a lieutenant. 222nd Edrastain Shock and 73rd Finreht Highlanders. Highlanders- she had heard that designation before. Close quarters fighters, much like shock troopers. Combined with the grenadier, she was looking at rather an offensive bunch in her squad, but that was alright- the hardest part would be assigning the honour of the regimental standard. She also idly noted that they had no medic, but she was sure one of these soliders wouldn't mind a little extra training and a lot extra pay for their troubles. With that sorted then, she would send a brief message to the new officers under her commands. Those that would be leading the platoons and squads underneath her. She intended on running a compact ship, and although she would not be able to run a Mordian regiment as she had wished, and therefore her normal tactics would require some revising, she would nonetheless ensure that they lived up to her ideals. Perhaps she'd request a commissar just to ensure no fleeing. That though, was for later. She knew that many of the men and women enjoying themselves outside would be those under her command, and nothing let you know about soldiers like how they reacted to superior officers when they weren't sober. Slipping into her coat and fixing her hat to her head, she would consider for a moment, before going to her wardrobe and retrieving a neatly folded navy cape, throwing it over her shoulders and clipping it just beneath her epatulettes. Thus equipped, she would stride out of the room and down the stairs, until she was outside and breathing in the chill air. Almost immediately she noted two men stiffen up as they stumbled past her. Her gaze turned with them as they walked, and although she could see the exact moment where they realised she wasn't a commissar, the epatulettes and cape that she wore had scared them eough to not stumble until they were well out of her sight. Then, she would turn towards where campfires had been lit, shaking herself out of a march and into a more casual stroll.