[@Lady Selune][@ReedeThe23rd][@BCTheEntity][@CleanBreeze][@Eisenhorn][@Irredeemable][@Reia]

[I]Time: 5 AM Location: Adeptus Ministorum HQ, Vernum Primus Weather and Temperature: Clear white skies, -8 degrees Faranheit/-22 Celsius.[/i]

[I]I am a scribe, a clerk, and I am meant to be at my desk![/i] Raged Terebravisse inwardly and in verbal silence, [i]I'm no Ordnance-tech or Regimental Aide.[/i]

The harsh Vernum weather chilled his exposed flesh, the joint between his quilled fingers and the still-organic flesh there taking on a rather unwanted ache as he clutched his writing slate to his chest, his bionic eyes whirring quietly as he moved his head momentarily to look over the ranks of assembled soldiers and war machines to his right; nearly three-thousand men, including Abhumans and recent conscripts, made up the ranks of the freshly minted 87th Combined Regiment - no actions or glories yet taken that would provide them with one of the monikers so commonly taken by other more veteran regiments, in spite of the many veterans of decimated formations who even now stood to attention on the frosty rockrete parade ground beside him.

Ahead of him walked the Command Platoon of their commanding officer, Colonel Dragutin Vyacheslav - formerly of the 1502nd Valhallan Regiment - a man who exemplified his planet in both mind and body, his icy flesh standing out in stark contrast to the recently presented uniform of black and white camouflage he now wore, and his glacial blue eyes focusing on the podium that had only recently been erected before the soldiers. Unlike that of the Lord-Militant it was a simple wooden platform, although holo-screens had been dispersed throughout the ranks, that the men and women may see him as he spoke.

Terebravisse continued to look gloomy, even surrounded all around by his fellow servants of the various arms of the Ministorum, his ears blocking out the continual droning of the brazier-waving priest striding forward before their snaking column. Other members of the Ecclesiarchy would be doing the same duties amidst the ranks of the Guard, saying prayers and reciting verse, but Terebravisse had no time for such things outside of his chamber. His own way of worshipping the God-Emperor was to make sure everything within his holy Militarum was correct, not to kneel on some stone floor or yell praise into the abyss.

Even as these thoughts occured to him the Colonel was mounting the podium, his command platoon - the Regimental Commissar, the standard bearer yet without a standard, and a hand picked group of aides and soldiers - surrounding the lower section of the wooden construct, forming a cordon and keeping watch for any signs of trouble.

Peering down his hawkish nose, his features very much like that of a bird-of-prey, the Colonel ran a gloved hand through his greying black hair and cleared his throat to speak, but not before taking a moment to survey those before him.

Before this 'inspection' each and [i]nearly[/i] every soldier had been issued with a number of specific items, firstly their freshly produced uniforms - standard-issue flak vest, helmet, boots and cloth based on the Cadian style of armour, sporting a black and white camo scheme due to their 'founding' on the Hive world of Vernum, an urban enviroment - with many of the soldiers before him already looking toward him with the violet eyes of that great fortress-world; in fact this was the very reason for the choice of uniform, the solid core of his regiment being Cadian through and through.

Secondly came the process which many had complained about, but could really do nothing about, and that was being re-issued with standard issue equipment; this meant standard-bearers stripped of their former flags, sometime to be replaced by those of this newly created formation, it meant non-issue weapons taken from those that were carrying them, and it meant that such items were taken and locked up in the regimental stores.

It should be noted that the Abhumans remained outside of this structure, being counted as auxiliary formations, to be dispersed and shared among the rest of the regiment if and when they were needed.

His eyes fell for a moment on the only part of the regiment he had not yet inspected personally, and only because it was the part of it that made the flesh in his cheek twitch something fierce - that of C Company under the command of a Captain Arlena Di Fieroccu.

He was a veteran, not lost on Munitorum politics and efficiency, but had they had to have given [b]his[/b] regiment a shortage of fresh materials! Why had the God-Emperor seen fit to find them lacking here, an entire company no less!

This was a company that he told himself he need not inspect, their commanding Captain a Mordian after all, and he had known them long enough to realise she'd keep them in line.

With the last flicker of annoyance sloughing from his features, he turned with a smile to look directly at the holo-projector relay set up in a servo-skull hovering before him.

"Brave warriors of the Imperium, you have done all that the honour of war requires, but there are still more enemies to drive from the domains of Man," his face took on the stern expression of one that knew these enemies well, "you may hail from different worlds, may fighting in differing styles, may speak another language, but from this point on you are all of the Emperor's Imperial Guard. You will fight and die for your brothers and sisters, beside them, as part of the 87th Combined - at least until we win a victory worthy of some other name." 

His cool gaze could be felt even through the holo-screens, his calm but grave demeanour clear as he raised his voice to a crescendo, "you fight as one, you [b]die[/b] as one, for Vernum was but the beginning of it; fight hard enough and you may one day be granted the right of settlement, perhaps even the right of a trophy world." 

Pointing his hand up into the sky, he turned his head toward the crisp mornings gaze and let out a short sigh, "tomorrow we board our transports and begin the cycle of service anew, as a regiment dedicated to the Emperor anew, so check your gear and fill your bellies, for there is no telling when you may get either fresh uniforms or fresh food again." With a gesture from his hand the standard-bearer below the podium, who until this point had carried a furled and covered flag, pulled off the cover to reveal a flag bearing the symbol of an Ork skull impaled upon a Cadian combat knife, the word 'Vernum' visible on the top left of the red background...the rest just waiting to be filled.

"Do not fail me, do not fail his Holiness on Terra, if you should find problems then report them to your officers and servants of the Commissariet. Above all remember this, the Emperor protects."

Once that well-used phrase had been echoed by every man, woman and Abhuman present, the Colonel left the podium and boarded one of nearly three dozen chimera transports - each one patterned in the same black, white and blue scheme as the infantry - the vehicle heading toward the landing site, not three miles away, where tomorrow they would embark for future conflicts in yet another warzone.

With loud yells and cries each company was dismissed, to do as they would for the time being, turned out back to their billet areas and the recommendation of preparing themselves not seeming like a bad idea at all.


[Hider=PLEASE READ!] Okay, so phase two commences!

Right, everyone but C Company is looking brank-spanking new, and although there is not enough to go all around, if anyone wishes to grab a new helmet, piece of clothing etc then they can do so.

Apart from that, feel free to 'let loose' some more (probably best not to get drunk etc though) in a more orderly manner, because the next 'event post' will be taking us up and off the planet.

Any questions, ask me via PM or in the OOC.[/hider]