[IC] It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP [Reboot/Continuation] [MATURE]

[Hank]

@Dannyrulx

The Commissar chuckled at Angelika's comments on the remaining men of her regiment. "Yes, such is the way of these animals, isn't it? Always been that way, don't think it'll ever change. Fortunately you seem like the type of girl that can take care of herself," Castor said and patted her on the shoulder. "As for the regicide; absolutely, I'd love to play with you. Seek me out when we have some downtime. Now then, I really must be going. See you in a few hours, soldier." Castor nodded at Angel and left, his long strides carrying him to the tent of the new Company Commander.

@mackielars@agentmanatee

He came upon Ninke and Persephone on the way there and observed with some amusement as the newly-promoted sergeant leaned on the lithe and androgynous Persephone. "It's only a little further," he said and winked as he caught up to them. "You'll feel much better in the morning, sergeant," Castor added and smiled encouragingly. "Let's get a move on."

[Bright_Ops]

Watching in silence as the bullheaded man and the strange human woman left him alone after the man had thrown a fit at being accused of serving the dark gods, Khaz remained where he was for a moment before shrugging and turning back to camp. He would have to stash the weapon he had confiscated somewhere safe; He did fully intend to return it when the guy calmed down enough to apologize for his outrageous behavior and he couldn't do that if his weapon of choice got damaged or went missing.

If the man replaced it with another, he would simply turn it in to the powers that be and be done with it.

Placing the weapon down in a small section of his 'shelter' so that it was secure but out of his way, Khaz rolled his shoulders before laying down. From the sounds of it, tomorrow was going to be a big day and he needed to rest up. Without much fuss, he drifted off to sleep.

@Andreyich@NecroKnight

[Andreyich]

@NecroKnight

He growled as she came near, looking on through the corpses. He thought he found one that was suitable, and went to pull at the helmted; only to pull out the whole head an spinal column along with it and the damaged thing cracking in his hands. He kicked the corpse to see that the poor sod was split open with a choppa that had a blade as big as him.

He turned to the felinid, and scratched his head despite it not being itchy. After a few moments, he said "Grumble grumble, yes, grumble grumble."

He awaited whatever instructions she was about to give up, since the only thing that fit him he found was a pair of boots of the "one size fits nobody" style that the Munitorum liked to make them in. "Grumble grumble, 'n' if I said anything wot wasn't good then I suppose mumble mutter."

[NecroKnight]

@Andreyich

Felinid merely and literally faceplanted at that, throwing her hands up in exaggeration. "Alright, I give up. You wanna mess with the Commissar, and Company Commander tomorrow? First of all speak like an actual human! You sound like an Ogryn, and they have a better speech than you," she spoke - obviously having enough of his ungrateful attitude.

"If you want to be like that to everybody, that wants to help you - then your going to end up very alone in the Imperial Guard. Now come, and keep that mouth under guard - your attitude is very unbecoming of the Emperor' Imperial Guard," she spoke with great force, like her rank demanded it - starting to lead him towards one of the Regimental Quartermasters - whom might be able to get him something to wear, but by the Emperor - was that Frateris an ungrateful bastard. ""And don't start to ramble and hide behind your religious belief - if you known your history. Its filled with many people, whom found excuses to do what they wished, due to their 'belief' in their religion. Only for the Emperor' Divine Will - the Inquisition to execute them for...heresy. So, I would expect a little 'thank you' at the very best. Since by the Emperor' Holy Leg - you haven't done anything much to appear anything other than ungrateful."

[Jb]

@Bright_Ops@agentmanatee@Dannyrulx@NecroKnight@Andreyich@Lmpwrkr@Rultaos@mackielars@Hank@The Lioness

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

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

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 Hamid Nizar - formerly of the Tallarn 78th Desert Raiders - a man who exemplified his planet in both mind and body, his copper flesh standing out in stark contrast to the recently presented uniform of black and white camouflage he now wore, and his deep brown 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 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, that of D Company under the command of a Captain Johanna Weiss, noting the Beastmen and cat-eared members of their ranks with a slight grimace, before 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 die 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.

PLEASE READ!

Okay, so phase two commences!

As stated, everyone had been re-issued with a new uniform, as well as the standard issue equipment given to every Guardsman and woman - so a las-gun, Uplifting Primer, flak armour etc - you can also take more 'personal' items such as cooking equipment etc at your discretion. Of course those with specialist equipment, heavy weapons etc, will just have fresh ones. Anyone with non-issue equipment (such as Commissar's bolt pistols...) will have had it taken off of them, replaced with the las equivalent, and have it locked up in storage. For now.

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.

[Dannyrulx]

Angelika was furious. Rena was furious. Half of her squad was furious actually, which meant that the blackjack game they were playing was tinged with bitterness, autopistol ammunition slammed and scraped rather than jovially passed, the cards thrown roughly around, and the fact that litterally every member of the squad had ground about four lho-stick butts into the ground each.

Angelika knew Rena was particularly furious. The guardswoman wasn't an official sniper, and since the ISU was classified as a long-las rather than a lascannon or lasgun, it had been confiscated off her. The guardswomen dropped a handful of bullets into the pot in the centre, before saying out loud the true issue that had been bugging all of them. "I... can't even comprehend what fuckhead determined that our cash should be sent to Cadia. I haven't been home for eight fucking years and they expect me to be able to get my pay from there?"

Angelika was likewise angry, but felt some measure of responsibility to prevent a full-on mutiny among her squad. "Look, it's not that much of a big deal. We've all got relatives in Cadia who can transfer the cash over to our accounts; it just means that we get our cash a bit late. Not like we can spend it on this fucking useless world anyway. She tapped the ash from her 'stick onto the ground, watching as it came dangerously close to the primer of an autocannon round. "Y'know, I think that may be enough cards. None of us are paying any attention, so what's the point?"

The group murmured, then piled the cards into a pile. Rena groaned and slammed down her set, exclaiming 'just when I fucking get a straight..." but stopping when a few bottles of amasec came out. "It's just cheap shit, and don't drink too much. We've got a warp ride soon. There was a clinking of bottles, and the squad sat around, watching as chimeras rattled and bumped, the new banners fluttering above. "Here's to those fucking banners being more gold than red, yeah?"

She was scanning the crowd, and picked a face out. An abhuman face to be precise; and to be even more precise, it would be the medic who had made an ork skull into a football. (@NecroKnight) "Hey! Crazy cat lady! Get your arse over here right now and tell these guys about the skull!"

[NecroKnight]

@Dannyrulx

Meris was surprised about getting picked up from the crowd - she merely sighed at that. Walking over to them and wondering why she was asked out.

When the talk about came to her ball, her mood turned slightly irritated. "Well, what can I say..." she spoke, hands crossed over her chest. She looked almost like one of them, except the sign of a canine sticking out her mouth. "...some girl bashed it in because. I don't know? She is a damn bigot? Fucking...if you hate my kind, then say it to my face! Not ruin my fun."

"I would have kicked her ass, if the Commander hadn't come. And that damn bigot got promoted too? Damn me. I know all our stuff got taken..." she added, looking bitter. "...but was it so much to ask, to be able to play with you regulars? Like normal people? No, some rookie jackboot has to ruin it and then run crying when I wanted some compensation."

"I mean... it's not like I fix up wounded people. Or sew together their belly and put their intestines back inside them, when an ork chainsawed almost cut you in half," she ranted. "Sorry. Just had some stuff last night. Anybody else saw what that Frateris with the big gun tried yesterday?"

[agentmanatee]

Ninke, unlike no doubt many of the other more veteran Guardsmen, was not upset to have Commissar's Jarrack's pistol taken from her. To an extent, she was even releived to an extent. She no longer had to worry about losing such a valuable weapon, and now it had no more chance to cause her scars to get worse. The ornate pistol and its thermal cooled holster were taken quickly, replaced with a new laspistol and rifle as well as a clean and new Vox unit. Before being given her new uniform she had cut up her cloth poncho a fair bit, sewing it up into a simple ochre scarf as a souvenir from her old uniform. She wroe it now around her neck as she stood in the black and whit uniform, her brand newSergeant ranking sown onto the sleeves. Standing at attention again felt... good despite the slight hangover she had woken up with.

The night before started out clear in her head and got muddy the closer to her passing out it became. She had smashed an ork head at some point she thought, been promoted, and carried by a woman named Persephone but she wasn't sure in what order these had taken place in. But, she was happy to be arounnd by others in a similar uniform again after the Hirisit had been so thouroughly decimated. Erics was in her company, which was nice... at least he was a familiar face to some extent. More importantly, standing at the front in her new CO's retinue felt... strange to say the least. She was still an NCO but now she had a fair bit more authority... she'd have to get used to being called 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'. After the new regiment was disperesed Ninke wandered for a bit, chatting with other former Hirist before she spied that Cadian woman from last night who had been so kind too her... and Ninke realized she didn't even know the womans name.

She made her way over as quickly as she could, pushing past those milling about and coming to stand at the Cadians table... she hadn't seen the felinid due to the crowd, nor did she recognize that she had destroyed a ball created by the abhuman, only remembering an ork head. She smiled at the group before addressing the Cadian woman, "Hello again! I forgot to thank you for being so kind too me last night! Oh, und I forgot to learn your name or give you mine. I am Ninke Ingran!", she explained happily, smiling at the whole group.

(@Dannyrulx@NecroKnight)

[NecroKnight]

@agentmanatee

"I am Corporal Meris Fixun. Felinid, Imperial Guard Medic and the person, whose play-ball got demolished by you. Ma'am," replied Meris, looking at the woman whom she had just been talking about.

The abhuman woman in question did give Ninke the salute and neutral face. Albeit her eyes had that 'tranquil fury's behind them - like when one wished to gut said ork because he ate his comrades.

It was likely triple trouble for her. One being pissing off a Guardsman you had to fight alongside. Secondly, seeing as most abhumans got treated like dirt. And acting like one, with her smashing the Guardswoman' object of entertainment, might be considered as such by her.

And thirdly - you usually did not want to piss off the Medic of any group. Since chances were they would be the difference between getting out alive or stuck in a ditch with a bleeding limb.

[Bright_Ops]

While many guardsmen were busy dealing with hangovers and quietly complaining about the cold, the remains of the Warband from Helhiem seemed to be in surprisingly good condition; Sure their 'at attention' stance looked like it had been explained to them five minutes ago (Which it was) but their leather armor was clean and freshly painted black and white, their weapons were polished and in good condition and they seemed to be in rather high moral compared to those around them that had born witness to the horrors of war. Truth be told they were thrilled to be here.

Sure these 'parades' were a thing, but it was a small price to pay for the opportunities for honor and glory that serving alongside their human counterparts in slaying the Emperor's foes would bring. Before long, the 'parade' ended and everyone was allowed to go and do their own thing.

With nothing to do for the time being, Khaz decided to go and have a look around... and approched a small gathering that consisted of a familar face; The strange human woman from the night before. Taking a moment to look over all those present, he offered a respectful nod as he greeted them with a simply "Hello."

@agentmanatee@NecroKnight@Dannyrulx

[Rultaos]

Explosions

Gunfire

Screaming

In the cacophony of sounds, these three stood out the most to Marcus in the pitch black. Then, the darkness gave way to blurred images and he could see the scene unfold before him.

He stood in the middle of a mass of Guardsmen running forward. Up ahead, he could see the massive bodies of the greenskinned Orks growing nearer and nearer. Marcus could barely feel it, but he was running alongside the Guardsmen as well. The sounds of fighting became louder and louder. Suddenly, a loud booming voice echoed above the battlefield, briefly drowning out the sounds of death and violence. ”INFANTRY! OUR ENEMY COMES AT US IN DROVES. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, YOU WILL HOLD THE LINE, YOU WILL STAND YOUR GROUND, YOU WILL NOT STOP FIRING!” The Commissar shouted.

”Here they come!”
”ATTACK! FOR EMPEROR AND IMPERIUM!”

As he witnessed their frontline clash against the Ork hordes, the images blurred again and began being mashed together in what seemed to be a morbid series of videos and images, with the disjointed sounds of gunfire, lasfire, screams, battlecries, and the violent tearing of both human and xeno flesh.

A massive Ork wielding two axes charges through a group of flamers as people shout from all around.

”THEY’VE BROKEN THROUGH!”
”The formation’s broken!”

Keep firing… keep firing…

A Guardsman is thrown by an explosion nearby and loses his Lasgun as Gretchins swarm him. He pulls out his entrenching tool and swings at the Gretchins, flinging the small creatures and spilling blood as the soldier let out a primal scream. An Ork came screaming back at the Guardsman, and as the human stabbed their shovel into the Ork’s gaping mouth, the Ork’s axe was lodged into their head, causing both of them to fall to the ground, stuck to each other.

”We’re surrounded!
”KEEP SHOOTING

Keep firing… keep firing… Keep firing!

A group of Guardsmen fire their Lasguns wildly into a charging mass of Orks who return fire with their Slugga pistols. One of the Guardsmen runs out of ammunition and charges forward with a harrowing battlecry, his Lasgun raised into the air with the bayonet pointed at the greenskins. The bayonet hit the Ork’s armor, causing the blade to break and fly off as the angered Ork unloaded their Slugga on the Guardsman, causing the man to be shaken like a ragdoll as the rounds pierced through his body. ”DANCE ‘UMIE DAAAAANCE!” The Ork's baritone voice boomed.

”Keep shooting, men!”
”STAND FAST, 3RD COMPANY! IN THE EMPEROR’S NAME YOU WILL HOLD YOUR GROUND OR DIE! KEEP FIRING
”KEEP FIRING, YOU DOGS!

Keep Firing! Keep Firing! Keep Firing! Keep Firing!

A Guardsman lay slumped against a metal pillar atop a growing pool of blood, holes punctured in their chest and an Ork choppa lodged deep into their leg. The dead human’s arms clutched a Lasgun tightly, the weapon continuously firing at the dead Ork that held the choppa.

”They’re everywhere! THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!”
”There’s no end to them! THEY WON’T STOP!”

Greenskins began piling in from all directions, slaughtering any Guardsman in front of them. The ground beneath Marcus’ feet began shaking and he frantically runs away as the ground around him falls into a dark abyss.

He somehow finds himself in the middle of the large munitions factory, Orks begin coming out of every corner and there is not a single Guardsman in sight, yet somehow the screams and cries continued. Looking down, Marcus realized he was standing atop a pile of dead Orks and Guardsmen. Looking around, he realized that the corpses surrounded him as well, though he did not see them there before. The Orks began letting out a nightmarish yell as they all began running at Marcus. He began firing all around him, trying to prioritize the Orks that came closest. For every Ork that fell, another one would suddenly appear from nowhere and join the horde. Marcus held down the trigger as he spun around and around, his Persuader never running out of ammunition, and the pile of bodies growing larger and larger.

KEEPFIRING KEEPFIRING KEEPFIRING KEEPFI----!

Suddenly, he felt a cold hand grasp his right leg and begin tugging at it with great force. Glancing down, he saw it was one of the bloodied Guardsman bodies, trying to pull him down violently. The moment he had looked down, both human and Ork bodies began stirring and tugging at his legs and armor. Marcus struggled to continue firing at the oncoming enemies, but as soon as both of his feet had been swept off the ground, he fell over, his Lasgun firing wildly into the air as the live Orks swarmed him. Immediately, Ork axes and blades flashed overhead as they all fell upon his body, and he felt great pain erupt all across his body.

---

”GAH!” Marcus exclaimed as he sat up from his bed, breathing rapidly. He looked around to get his bearings, and when he saw that he was inside a hab-unit with his fellow Guardsmen still sleeping in their bunks he realized he had been dreaming. Well… more like having a bloody nightmare… By the Emperor, I need some air… He thought as he got up from his bunk.

Stepping onto the cold floor of the hab-unit (thankfully negated by his socks), he quickly went to grab his boots and slide them on. After fastening them onto his feet, he got up to check on his timepiece. 0403… Still a good hour before the inspection… Can’t go back to sleep so I might as well stretch my legs. He thought as he walked towards the entrance of the building. He stopped by their stockpile to gather his equipment. He contemplated for some time whether he should take his wargear with him since they were not in any immediate danger, yet somehow he felt this nagging feeling of vulnerability in the back of his head that simply compelled him to take it with him. So he put on his newly polished armor, slung on his equipment pack, fastened his Krak grenade bandolier, and loaded his persuader with a drum magazine before stepping out in the cold early morning air.

Brrr... This air could wake up some of the heaviest drunks I knew...

---

Thanks to his early morning walk, Marcus was already lively and alert by the time the inspection rolled around, which was more than could be said for his squadmates who still had a hangover from the previous night. This got them a stern scolding from the officers handling the inspection, but Marcus felt they were let off easy since the officers knew how much the survivors needed that party to blow off steam. Though, he did not miss a chance to tease his squadmates over the fact that it was their hangovers that got them shouted at instead of the uncleanliness of his uniform (which he felt he wasted effort on cleaning, since their old uniforms and armors were taken anyway)

During the inspection, they were issued new Cadian style equipment as replacements for their previous wargear. Dace “Hotshot” Hawthorne was given a new Flamer and would be issued a melta bomb as an auxiliary explosive. Bertolt “Bolt” Taggart had a pleasant surprise when he was assigned to be a Chimera driver once more thanks to his previous experience and technical know-how. Hardin “Slick” Savoy was issued a Kantrael pattern Lasgun along with a set of Frag grenades and other standard issue gear. Marcus received the same treatment as Hardin, with some Frag grenades being added to his previous explosives arsenal, but was not happy over the fact that the Kantrael pattern weapon was replacing his Merovech Persuader.

”This gun’s rate of fire is so much slower than what I’m used to. What are they expecting me to kill with this slow thing? Gretchins?” Marcus asked sarcastically. “This is standard procedure for new regiment formations. We’re not a close-quarter unit any more so they’re givin’ us grunts something more multipurpose. Don’t worry, just show the brass what you’re good at and you’ll get it back.” Hardin explained, trying to calm Marcus down. ”I suppose so… I’ll just follow your lead and hope you take us all back into shock trooper detail.” Marcus replied. “No promises, lads. Though I’m glad you all appreciate my shrewd nature.” Hardin replied. Out of the four survivors of the 344th, Marcus recognized that Hardin had the most combat experience out of all of them and understood how the Imperial bureaucracy worked within The Guard. He used that knowledge for both survival and personal gain, that had earned him the nickname “Slick” among his peers. Dace piped up. “I don’t much care where they put me in, as long as I can stay alive, and keep cooking a dozen xenos for every dead Flashflooder!” He said with enthusiasm. ”I think we can all agree to that!” Marcus added.

Marcus looked around the crowd of Guardsmen which had gathered in the wake of both the speech and the inspection. Through the mass of gray urban combat uniforms, he saw a few familiar faces. One was the Cadian pyrotechnic Officer who gave him the Squig bits, another was the blonde scarred woman from the previous night who went berserk on the Ork ball they toyed with, and the other was the Felinid abhuman who actually owned the Ork ball. Upon seeing them, Marcus remembered something, causing him to pause for a moment before going through his pockets and then jogging towards them. “Be right back, boys!” He said to his squadmates as he left.

“Hey, you there!” He shouted towards Angelika. As he approached the group of Guardsmen, he pulled out two alcohol ration cards. The lady with scars had just finished introducing herself as Ninke Ingran when Marcus arrived. After she had finished, Marcus spoke up towards Angelika as well. “Sorry. Never did manage to give this to you last night, with all of the commotion. But hey, it’s not as if these things have an expiry date anyway, heh.” Marcus said as he presented her with the cards. He then turned towards the Felinid, who had began introducing herself to Ninke.

"I am Corporal Meris Fixun. Felinid, Imperial Guard Medic and the person, whose play-ball got demolished by you. Ma'am,"

Marcus glanced towards Ninke, before turning back towards Meris and speaking. ”Okay, I don’t claim to know much about your planet’s customs, but I’m guessing Sergeant Ingram owes you an apology for breaking your toy.” Marcus said, having noticed Ninke's rank symbol. He hoped that the sergeant did not take offense to the Felinid's passive-aggressiveness, or Marcus' casual reference to them, but he figured it was a harmless way to see how Ninke behaved as an authority figure, consequences be damned.

Suddenly however, a large figure loomed over the group, and Marcus was taken by surprise when the abhuman from last night (who had supposedly been challenged by the lunatic who threatened Angelika and their Company Commander) stood before them. He wondered for a moment what the large man's purpose was when he broke the silence with a curt nod and a stoic "Hello"

"Uhh... Top o' the morning too, my good man." Marcus replied awkwardly with a short nod back at them.

@Dannyrulx @agentmanatee @NecroKnight @Bright_Ops

[Andreyich]

The burly man had taken to his new gear well; it may not be as protective as his old stuff but it did not leave giant red marks from where it was too tight; and he could actually move in it. He spent most of his time reading the pages of the Uplifting Primer that he could not before, be it because of bulletholes in the editions he found or too much dirt. After he finished he pressed his hands together and sighed. If he was the bugger that wrote the rules he would write them differently. But he was not, so he simply grumbled a little before putting the book away.

Afterwards he took to inspecting his new haevy-stubber. It looked like the same model he had before, except not as... dented, bent, and rusted. In truth he found it in that condition, and was not the one to make it so. He caressed the new weapon, and laughed a little maniacally. Now he didn't have a reason to apologize to the under-human that snatched his previous weapon, the silly beast. He spinned the barrels a few times and gasped with delight; it would shoot even faster! Faster shooting meant more enemies of man-kind slain, a simple equation.

After sitting down happily he nodded to himself. His judgements before were right. These people around him were given such a wondrous opportunity to serve their Holy God, and they grudged it? They thought that they were somehow accursed? "Pathetic wretches all of them." he muttered, taking off his armour and other gear. Once he had everything off of him but his clothes (only for decency's sake) he tied it together on his weapon to form a great big bundle. Once he had it ready, he lay down, with a grunt picked it up, and started his regimen of excercise to maintain his strength all for Him. "A broad mind lacks focus." he grunted, with the first lift. A coward always seeks compromise. Grunt. A coward’s only reward is to live in fear another day. Grunt. A fine mind is a blessing of the Emperor - It should not be cluttered with trivialities. Grunt. only when he was through with the thousands of thoughts of the day he knew, he dropped the weapon to his side, breathing in and out. Quickly washing himself he smartened up and loitered around the place where the next day they would stand to attention, and then depart for their warzone. As he stood he muttered all of the thoughts of the day he had forgotten and made a mental note to give himself a lashing for each one, along with a specific punishment to make him remember.

[agentmanatee]

Ninke had not been expecting to be told she had... demolished a play-ball? The Felinid who had now introduced herself to be one Corporal Meris Fixun, a rather upset felinid apparently, seemed to be convinced Ninnke had destroyed something of hers and now deserved an apology. She had been respectful, no doubt due to Ninke's newly appointed rank, but she could feel the anger and frustration radiating off of the felinid from her eyes which looked like they wanted to stab Ninke. She gulped a bit and tried to think back through last night. She didn't remember smashing a ball... in fact the only thing she remembered 'destroying' was that ork head, she had crushed it with her cybernetic leg... come to think of it that head had seemed more round than most others Ninke had seen and had alot of extra metal...

She was only more confused when another guarsdman joined the group, insisting it was probably a good idea to apologize. She seemed confused by the situation, not certain how she as an officer was supposed to... deal with this. Was it insubordination? Should she be mad? Should she punish someone?

Ninke's eyes widened in realization that the skull may have been turned into some kind of... macabre sort of ball. She looked quickly to the felinid, here eyes regretful, "I-I ehm so sorry Corporal! I... I vhas... not right at thee time. I did not mean to destroy your ehm... toy.", she gave a smile of apology as others joined the group. One of which was... a beastman. Ninke could not help but cringe away from the beastly man, taking a step back, "uh-ehm... h-hello... trooper., she managed to respond, clearly... at least unsettled by his appearance. "[/color=palevioletrred] v-vhat ees your name... beastman?[/color]", she stammered out.

(@Rultaos@Bright_Ops@NecroKnight@Dannyrulx)

[NecroKnight]

@agentmanatee

Meris mellowed out at that sentence, albeit her sour mood still remained etched on her face. "So long as this doesn't happen again. Or if I make another one, then for this time - if you don't like it, then place stay away, Ma'am," stated Meris. She wasn't in the mood to make another toy of her' from scratch - only to get bashed in by the same stupid and emotional, green Sergeant.

She atleast hoped Ninke was better on the field, than off it. By how the woman reacted, she was surprised Ninke had lasted this long out here. "Also such outbursts aren't very healthy. Need be I got some medicine, incase your sleeping badly at night," added Meris, in her more professional and medic tone.

[Jb]

Time: 7 PM, Location: Deck-Barracks 792, aboard the Transport Frigate 'Castellan'

Heat from the thrusters washed over the stoic face of Colonel Nizar, reminding him temporarily of his own desert homeworld of Tallarn, the data-slates upon his camp table rattling with the vibrations of the transports descent and final landing onto the carpet of frosted Vernum earth; like some vast aquatic creature, one of the whales of Ancient Terra perhaps, the landing ramp opened into a gaping maw, hundreds of white-and-black clad soldiers - along with their smoke-spouting Chimera transports - seemingly consumed by the vehicle at an astonishing rate. Within moments the ramp would close once more, all those within now locked or sat securely in place, the stone-grey transports lifting off once more into the atmosphere and the waiting ships of the Imperial Navy above - this had been going on since the early hours of the morning, and only now did the regimental commander have a little time to think.

Since sitting himself down at his desk, open to the air and the elements, and near surrounded by a multitude of aide-de-camps, political officers and experienced veterans, he had watched thousands of soldiers from other regiments lift off-planet and up to the frigate-class ship Castellan where his own regiment - already being unofficially called the 'First Vernum Mechanised Regiment' by those same formations - would soon be going; sturdy Cadians from the 12th Cadian Armoured, disciplined Mordians and Praetorian Guardsmen of the XXVI regiment marching in lockstep, Savlar Chem-Dogs and even a couple of Penal formations, all had already departed for Colonels next port of call...the next warzone for he and those under his command.

"Junior-Commissar Sigrun."

Having up until this point been more concerned with observing the order of her assigned regiment, Kata Sigrun now turned to her attention to the hawk-faced man - and did her best to ignore the looks from company commanders and commissars of her new regiment as she responded - moving up to stand to the side of the Colonel.

"Colonel?"

"What do they call this?"

With his thickly accented Low Gothic and his presentation of an object before her eyes it took a moment for the blue-eyed officer to answer. Those same eyes narrowing to take in the bladed weapon held in his toughened hand, the Colonel not even turning his head from the flashing slate he held in his other hand, various facts and figures about the mingled cultures of the 87th running through her mind until she finally found what she was searching for.

"Signature weapon of those regiments from planet designated colloquially as 'Settler's Bane', in reference to the 87th of those survivors of the regiment named the 3rd Wisps; both a traditional sidearm, as well as being known for more spiritual reasons and even concerned with personal identity."

"Identity..." muttered Nizar, giving a brief nod which sent the Junior-Commissar back into the crowd about him, "identity."

Something that had been concerning the commanding officer of the 87th since the inspection only a day before, Nizar held the confiscated combat knife of the 'Wisps' in one hand while touching the hilt of his own Khalig - the curved combat blade and traditional close quarters weapon of the Tallarn Desert Raiders, and pondered still on how best to unite his own regiment.

Unity through division, that how he would bring them together.

---

The Castellan was a frigate-turned-transport, one of a multitude of vessel designs no longer part of Imperial Naval rotation any more, a vast ship with more than a little history behind it. Over the last few decades various gun-decks and torpedo bays and hangers had been emptied out, deck after deck turned into quarters for thousands of Imperial Guardsmen, complete with shooting ranges, improvised canteens and row after row of camp-beds lined up one next to the other; the 87th were fortunate enough to get one of these decks to themselves, their vehicles placed at one end of the expansive interior space, their infantry assigned by company to their sleeping spaces - each man and woman issued with enough rations to last the expected journey to their next deployment, with passes to the more social areas of the ship, and with enough pay in their pockets to make gambling quite the problem for commanding officers and commissars alike.

Above this morass of bodies and equipment, chatter and din, were the quarters and offices of said superiors - each having their own room and administrative workspace that could only be accessed by a staircase running up to a gantry that was placed about the outer edge of the deck.

In his own office now sat the Colonel, instructions for his regiments next deployment held in his hand, Commissars Castor (@Hank), and Sigrun, as well as a third figure that was not known to either of them, standing before the desk of their CO and waiting for the smaller man to speak. This newcomer was six-feet and five-inches of solid muscle, his brown hair cropped short against his head, and his scarred mouth a constant smirk against his otherwise handsome features, clothed in the sombre brown trenchcoat of his former regiment and with his helmet stuck beneath his arm, it was simple enough to known that he hailed from the ranks of the Armageddon Steel Legion - the Armageddon 808th Steel Legion, to be exact, a regiment of some distinction.

"D Company is the most divided within our regiment," spoke the Colonel, his eyebrows moving of their own accord on his sun worn face, "the rest being solidly built from Cadian and Hirisit foundations." He let out a long sigh, tapping a couple of his fingers against the surface of his desk, "and now Captain Weiss has been taken from both company and regiment by an unknown malady, well, what am I to do?!" The answer to the rhetorical question was quickly forthcoming, one arm gesturing to the man stood beside the two Commissars, "this is Captain Laurie Rochus of the Steel Legion, he is to be the good Captains replacement for D Company, please treat him well and give him all assistance."

---

Once the trio had ascended the stairway, feet planted firmly on the lower deck now, they made their way immediately to the upper-left corner where D Company had been assigned their living space for this voyage and called a general assembly of the sub-formation. Slowly but surely the company assembled about them, from the lowest private to the most senior NCO, Rochus mounting a table that was being used for a game of cards and lifting his voice, which turned out to be a smooth baritone.

"Soldiers of D Company, Captain Weiss is no longer in command here - I am. I am Captain Rochus, your new cee-cee and formerly of the Armageddon 808th. I am here, along with a number of my fellows, to make certain that the 87th Combined turns itself into one of the most formidable mechanised formations this side of Holy Terra!" He waited a moment for any cheers or jeers, a couple of each being thrown at him and his heartfelt speech, before going on "I have been ordered by the Colonel to send those of the 3rd Wisps (@mackielars) - whom ever they might be - to his office, and to answer any questions you may have for me at present...so...anyone?"

@Bright_Ops@Hank@mackielars@Rultaos@Andreyich@NecroKnight@Dannyrulx@agentmanatee

[Bright_Ops]

For a time, Khaz just stood there rather dumbfounded; The look in his eye easily showed that his silence wasn't actually out of stupidity and more to do with the fact that he hadn't thought ahead and had absolutely no idea as to what to actually say now that he had gotten this far. In many ways, he found himself standing in front of a bunch of (in theory anyway) friendly aliens that he understood very little about or how to converse with them.

Thankfully, one of the humans managed to give him an opening. "My name is Khaz. What is yours?" He asked as he rolled his shoulder a little, the metal jaw trophy on display to showcase that he had blooded his sword and raised his standing in the Emperor's gaze for when the time came.

.......................................................

Much like their camp planet side, those from Helhiem were rather quiet and kept to themselves once they were assigned a section on the strange 'sky ship' that would take them to the next battlefield. For the time being at least, it was a time of rest and recovery before the next fight; There were already plans for training and mock battles in order to keep their bodies and minds sharp if the journey was long, but that wouldn't be for a while... at least, not until they adapted to their currently location a bit better. Something about being in the sky ship was... distressingly weird and trying to spar in that state of mind was a good way for someone to end up badly hurt.

If anyone had cared to check, they might have been surprised by the fact that Khaz and a couple of the younger members of the warband were playing what appeared to be some kind of board game, the board painted simply on cloth with several wooden pieces. With a roll of a die, Khaz watched as it landed on a three... and sighed as he moved the 'Cup' token that was his piece forwards three paces so that it could slide back 12 due to lust getting the better of him, much to the amusement of his peers. "What can I say? I can't take my eyes off of Suas's rump." He said in a show of good natured teasing, causing the rather cute white doe who had the Bow token to look down at the ground bashfully and causing laughter from everyone else.

Before the game could continue through, shouts rang out for another one of those meetings that the humans seemed rather fond of having. With a small amount of grumbling, the tokens were collected and the board was rolled up for storage; They didn't want to lose anything after all and they could always start again later.

It took a little while, but by luck (and the fact he was bigger and stronger then a lot of the humans around him, allowing him to push and shove to great effect) Khaz managed to earn himself a place in the throng of guardsmen to see their new 'Leader'. He didn't know exactly who the Armageddon 808th were, but the fact that this 'Armageddon' had managed to produce at triple digits when it came to the number of warbands it had offered so far suggested that it must have been a rather large, crowded place.

After a short speech, questions were asked for. Khaz cleared his throat before yelling out to be heard over the crowd "When are we getting to where we're going and what's the best way to kill what we're fighting when we get there?" They were really the only two questions that mattered at the end of the day.

@Hank@mackielars@Rultaos@Andreyich@NecroKnight@Dannyrulx@agentmanatee@Jbcool

[Andreyich]

John didn't have an eventful trip, simply inspecting and maintaining his gear, cutting his back and flailing himself, and making sure that he would in fact remember the thoughts of the day he had earlier forgotten. He did not mind the odd looks and potential susurrus of distaste that such self-harm brought upon him; he was doing it for a good cause and that was all he needed to know. Eventually he went to sleep, his hand on his combat knife at all times. He knew people would not try anything but he simply liked the extra security it provided.

---

He woke up smacking his lips, the dawning realisation that he had awoken unprepared for whatever may come falling on him. He sat up, knife at the ready to give someone or thing what for, and then realized he was relatively safe. Still, he put on his gas-mask although he did not attach it to the air supply since that would be quite pointless at the moment. In his freshly awakened state he thought they were being mobilised and thrown into the fray right now so he ran forth, stumbling over himself.

Noticing the large beastman at the front he lifted his newly provided heavy-stubber and made his way to the front after a series of "I'm sorry could you-" and "Excuse me." like half-sentences to indicate that he wanted, nay needed to get to the front. When finally there he stood a considerable distance away from Khaz but made sure to showcase the newly provided weapon hoping to be recognized by his height. He manually turned the barrels at the top to show what a true beaut' it was while listening to the speech between the two.

@Hank@mackielars@Rultaos@NecroKnight@Dannyrulx@agentmanatee@Jbcool@Bright_Ops

[Dannyrulx]

As was befitting Cadians, Angelika and her squad had risen early in order to be fully prepared, and stood on the deck, a new company standard limply hanging from the end of a pole in front of her. She had been given instructions that her entire team were to receive training in explosives to form what was known to Cadians as an 'explosive suicide squadron,' but nonetheless she had high hopes. Her team were veterans, and had steady hands and steadier minds, training them into a well-drilled squad of demolitions experts would take time, but not a huge amount of training overhaul. The twins would remain a heavy-weapons team, their autocannon having been replaced by a heavy bolter, all the better to shred light infantry, although that was the extent of the changes.

She watched as a Steel Legion veteran marched in, declaring that he was the new commander. Steel Legionnaires were hard motherfuckers, it had to be said, but she had never seen a more devastating mechanised infantry group than those that were pumped out of that Emperor-forsaken world. Hell, they were almost as good as the Cadians! She grinned a bit, before the smile faded on her face. The nutjob militiaman-turned guardsman had come back, @Andreyich, and this time, he had a new gigantic phallic symbol.

She shifted her positioning slightly, although the bugger was about six foot taller than her, she reckoned she could take him on in a fight: this time, as the squad had been told to come in full combat formation, she had taken the time to put her heavy flamer on, and given it a clean so the end was shiny and polished. She ignited the pilot light at the front of the barrel and shifted so it could be seen by the taller man, and turned, the mechanism that attached the flag to the twin fuel tanks causing it to shift and murmur as it did so, before she let out a wide grin.

"Hey," she whispered, "Seems to me like you're seriously overcompensating for something with that. Normally, most people put it down and stop playing with it every once in a while."

[agentmanatee]

Ninke smiled nervously up at the large goatman, and thought back to the preachings of Hirisit. It was said mutants were abominations to be shunned and hated, turned aside and even sought out and destroyed in the Emperors name. She had learned in the Guard abhumans were a semi-common sight, mutants who swerved the Imperium and were usually not so different as to cause offense. Beastmen however... she had never imagined she'd ever even meet such abnormal mutants, let alone fight alongside them. She had heard and been taught such deviant forms were heretical,and deserved no better than death... yet here she stood now, a beastman in her regiment and even in the same company as she. She gulped slightly as he introduced himself, clearly not use to meeting such creatures. Her hands twitched and grew clammy, as lessons long since drilled into her mind as a proud zealot wanted to take hold. She wanted to scream for a commissar too... no she wanted to pull her side arm and put a round in the abhumans skull on principle alone... now she even almost had the authority to do so... but that would be wrong.

These particular... beastmen were fighting for the Emperor, she knew that. They were essentially fodder usually, more so than even the ordinary guardsmen. They were in first and in the worst combat zones... what did it mean for her company that most of them were in it?! Surely she wasn't valued so low as to be... equal to them... she shook these thoughts from her mind as best as she could as the goat headed man introduced himself as Khaz. She managed a weak, thin smile, "Ehm... I am N-ninke Ingran, uh Sergeant Ninke Ingran. P-pleasure to meet you", she stammered out, stifly lifting her right arm as an offer of a handshake.

---

"Ehm zho Persephone, vhat exactly was the difference between your old knives und our new vons? Zese are quite nice...," Ninke regarded to Persephone. Luckily they had ended up on the same transport up to the frigate so she was able to find her afterwards and now wanted to know more about her new found friend. D company in its little corner seemed extremely divided to her, like just about every regiment that had been put together into the combined one had some kind of presence here. Those... Beastmen, Hirisit, Cadians, the Wisps and others were all a part of it. She wondered where the captain who had promoted her had gone to some extent... but she was sure she'd see her again soon, for now she was happy sitting with the Wisps and talking to Persephone. She thought they were a bit odd, but they were from a whole different planet she'd never heard of until quite recently so as much was to be expected. She was on the topic of their knives as a few had been grumbling about it earlier and she wanted to know why. She had her own new Cadian standard one that she thought was quite nice, and wanted to know why they were upset about it... maybe they were special somehow?

Regardless, their conversation was cut short as the Company was called together. As a newly appointed member of the command squad... supposedly, she hadn't actually met anyone else in the command squad yet, save her CO. Regardless, she pushed her way to the front using her rank to look upon... their new captain? The man cut a rather imposing figure, in his full set of Armageddon Steel legion attire and his booming, barritone voice he was quite commanding. Ninke listened intently seeing as this was her new CO... but was quite confused by the end of his speech. She was about to ask a question when Khaz, the beastman she had met earlier, asked his own. They were... straightforward to say the least. And once he was done she cleared her throat and spoke loudly, her soft voice straining to be heard over the clamour, "Ehm... v-vhat huppened too Captain Weiss? Und... ehm vill our positons be avvected by the change in leadership?", she wanted to know if she was still in the command squad or going to be given a squad... it was a rather important question.

[NecroKnight]

@Jbcool

"Captain, can we expect less chances of friendly fire happening to us?" asked Meris, thanks to the new armors and everything - she was able to almost blend-in with the other usual rabble. But those whom usually caused the most damage, where those in positions of power - be they artillery commanders, or crazy priests in general.

It helped that most of her equipment got a new and replenished look to them - if nothing, you could atleast count on the Administratum to divide everything based on numbers. As such her new suit of Cadian flak-armor helped in blending into the usual mass - sure by paperwork, she was abhuman. But with their numbers almost very low, they were usually stuck in groupings by skillset and not race. Plus her usual supply of medical equipment was getting very-very low at that. If anything wounds made by ork weapons, required a lot of bandaging and heavy amounts of painkillers.

Still it didn't hurt to ask, since while she only needed to hide her canines in her mouth and wear a pair of goggles to hide the eyes - they had a literal walking goat-man with them. Whom likely stuck out as a sore thumb on any battlefield - and she wasn't in the mood again to be shelled by the Imperium - because some Arty Commander thought, they looked too ork-ish.