Introduction
Forty thousand years in the future, there is only war.
In the Calixis Sector of the Segmentum Obscurus, the Imperial colony on Zel Tertius is under assault by the Ork Warboss Bombad Bloodboy of the Bad Moons clan and Freebooterz mercenaries. As orks slaughter the planet’s citizens, the Imperial Navy smashes through the blockade to land regiments of the Imperial Guard. The fight will be hard, as the Bad Moons have an abundance of Weirdboyz and a number of those being Warpheads. Also, they are a wealthy ork clan, so many of their countless numbers are Flash Gitz, whom are even more numerous with the addition of the Freebooterz.
Thrown into the fray is a brand new regiment, the Scum 363rd. The troopers of the 363rd are not fresh faced recruits but the survivors of the Scintilla 234th and the Luggnum 129th regiments. However, even before the fighting begins, there are several problems with the new regiment. First and foremost is the fact that the Scintilla 234th was an infantry regiment stationed on a light cruiser for it’s five year service and the Luggnum 129th was an armor regiment with no organic mud trotters attached. The next problem are the troopers themselves, the 234th could be described as the amazonian equivalent of the Mordian Iron Guard, an all female, highly disciplined, well drilled and sharply uniformed regiment.
The 129th on the other hand could be described as…well…a dirty mob. Being former miners, they think nothing of being covered in grime and unshaven (at least to the point of heavy stubble to near-beard), with uniforms stained with oil, grease and sweat. While they know and can use formations, the moment the enemy routs, its every tank for itself. The glory of running over fleeing enemies is best gain at the head of the pack. They also don’t think much of bending the rules a little to suit themselves. Like most Guard regiments, they were raised from the male population of their homeworld, where women do only light work or stay at home.
The third flaw is experience. While the 234th was the senior regiment, having been in service for five years and the 129th only been around for two years (more then half of that in training), the 129th has seen more action. While the 234th has been in numerous battles, they have mostly just manned their battle stations and sent the odd platoon to board damaged pirate ships. The 129th on the other hand as fought against chaos cultists on Kudrun and rebels on Mosul. Both took heavy loses over Zel Tertius, both when the Dauntless class light cruiser Hero took fire from a Freebooter Killkroozaz and when several of the landers carrying the 129th were destroyed on route to the planet.
The final great flaw is leadership. Both regiments lost most of their higher ranking officers. Only a combined total of three captains survived with no colonels, majors or commissars. All of these factors are combined in a tangle of miscommunications, scrambled vox signals and clerical error seem to invite disaster in the face of an ork WAAAGH! Maybe the Emperor smile on his soldiers and the small town of Haven. This town is away from the frontlines, out on the flanks and chosen as a great place to sent the stunned 129th and far enough away to get the 234th warmed up for a ground battle with a good march.
Now then, a few side notes.
1. the 234th doesn’t have any heavy weapons, flamers or plasma weapons (these may or may not get shipped to the new regiment on time for fighting). They have lasguns, autoguns, shotguns and the remaining officers might have a bolter and a chainsword.
2. the 129th doesn’t have much in the way of personal weapons, maybe a laspisol or snubgun
3. If you want to play a character in a tank, please play as a tank commander (sergeant or higher). Please NPC the rest of the tank crew.
4. In fact, lets just play characters ranked sergeants or above.
5. The 129th only has two companies left, one tank company (four platoons of four Leman Russ tanks) and a mix company of five sentinels, two hellhound, two trojans, an atlas and three chimeras
6. The 234th also has roughly two company’s worth of troops or roughly five hundred soldiers
7. The uniform of the 234th consists of black boots, dark blue trousers with a red line going down each leg, a white under shirt, a white tunic with blue trimming, black gloves (white for officers) and a dark blue kepi.
8. The uniform of the 129th consists of a (what were) brown boots, olive green pants, a (should be) white undershirt, a olive green jacket and a leather cap. All of their vehicles have a base color of dark gray paint.
9. If you have questions about technology, terms, weapons, races or anything else about the WarHammer 40k universe, please see this site: Lexicanum
10. Scintilla (homeworld of the 234th) is a hive world and capital of the Calixis Sector. It is highly possible that someone in the 234th was related to or a part of the nobility and it was their connects that got them a “safe” posting aboard the light cruiser.
11. Luggnum is a mining planet, who’s export of ore allowed them the funds to raise an armor regiment and who’s population was already used to cramped spaces and the use of machinery (like rigging rigs and tunneling machines).
Character profiles should include
In the Calixis Sector of the Segmentum Obscurus, the Imperial colony on Zel Tertius is under assault by the Ork Warboss Bombad Bloodboy of the Bad Moons clan and Freebooterz mercenaries. As orks slaughter the planet’s citizens, the Imperial Navy smashes through the blockade to land regiments of the Imperial Guard. The fight will be hard, as the Bad Moons have an abundance of Weirdboyz and a number of those being Warpheads. Also, they are a wealthy ork clan, so many of their countless numbers are Flash Gitz, whom are even more numerous with the addition of the Freebooterz.
Thrown into the fray is a brand new regiment, the Scum 363rd. The troopers of the 363rd are not fresh faced recruits but the survivors of the Scintilla 234th and the Luggnum 129th regiments. However, even before the fighting begins, there are several problems with the new regiment. First and foremost is the fact that the Scintilla 234th was an infantry regiment stationed on a light cruiser for it’s five year service and the Luggnum 129th was an armor regiment with no organic mud trotters attached. The next problem are the troopers themselves, the 234th could be described as the amazonian equivalent of the Mordian Iron Guard, an all female, highly disciplined, well drilled and sharply uniformed regiment.
The 129th on the other hand could be described as…well…a dirty mob. Being former miners, they think nothing of being covered in grime and unshaven (at least to the point of heavy stubble to near-beard), with uniforms stained with oil, grease and sweat. While they know and can use formations, the moment the enemy routs, its every tank for itself. The glory of running over fleeing enemies is best gain at the head of the pack. They also don’t think much of bending the rules a little to suit themselves. Like most Guard regiments, they were raised from the male population of their homeworld, where women do only light work or stay at home.
The third flaw is experience. While the 234th was the senior regiment, having been in service for five years and the 129th only been around for two years (more then half of that in training), the 129th has seen more action. While the 234th has been in numerous battles, they have mostly just manned their battle stations and sent the odd platoon to board damaged pirate ships. The 129th on the other hand as fought against chaos cultists on Kudrun and rebels on Mosul. Both took heavy loses over Zel Tertius, both when the Dauntless class light cruiser Hero took fire from a Freebooter Killkroozaz and when several of the landers carrying the 129th were destroyed on route to the planet.
The final great flaw is leadership. Both regiments lost most of their higher ranking officers. Only a combined total of three captains survived with no colonels, majors or commissars. All of these factors are combined in a tangle of miscommunications, scrambled vox signals and clerical error seem to invite disaster in the face of an ork WAAAGH! Maybe the Emperor smile on his soldiers and the small town of Haven. This town is away from the frontlines, out on the flanks and chosen as a great place to sent the stunned 129th and far enough away to get the 234th warmed up for a ground battle with a good march.
Now then, a few side notes.
1. the 234th doesn’t have any heavy weapons, flamers or plasma weapons (these may or may not get shipped to the new regiment on time for fighting). They have lasguns, autoguns, shotguns and the remaining officers might have a bolter and a chainsword.
2. the 129th doesn’t have much in the way of personal weapons, maybe a laspisol or snubgun
3. If you want to play a character in a tank, please play as a tank commander (sergeant or higher). Please NPC the rest of the tank crew.
4. In fact, lets just play characters ranked sergeants or above.
5. The 129th only has two companies left, one tank company (four platoons of four Leman Russ tanks) and a mix company of five sentinels, two hellhound, two trojans, an atlas and three chimeras
6. The 234th also has roughly two company’s worth of troops or roughly five hundred soldiers
7. The uniform of the 234th consists of black boots, dark blue trousers with a red line going down each leg, a white under shirt, a white tunic with blue trimming, black gloves (white for officers) and a dark blue kepi.
8. The uniform of the 129th consists of a (what were) brown boots, olive green pants, a (should be) white undershirt, a olive green jacket and a leather cap. All of their vehicles have a base color of dark gray paint.
9. If you have questions about technology, terms, weapons, races or anything else about the WarHammer 40k universe, please see this site: Lexicanum
10. Scintilla (homeworld of the 234th) is a hive world and capital of the Calixis Sector. It is highly possible that someone in the 234th was related to or a part of the nobility and it was their connects that got them a “safe” posting aboard the light cruiser.
11. Luggnum is a mining planet, who’s export of ore allowed them the funds to raise an armor regiment and who’s population was already used to cramped spaces and the use of machinery (like rigging rigs and tunneling machines).
Character profiles should include
- Name
- Rank
- Age
- Former regiment (there for gender)
- Appearance
- Weapons
- Bio
- Oh and this is for the former 129th guardsmen.
- Vehicle type
- Name
- Armaments
- Crew
- Extra
- 55 posts here • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 7 authors
Forty thousand years in the future, there is only war.
In the Calixis Sector of the Segmentum Obscurus, the Imperial colony on Zel Tertius is under assault by the Ork Warboss Bombad Bloodboy of the Bad Moons clan and Freebooterz mercenaries. As orks slaughter the planet’s citizens, the Imperial Navy smashes through the blockade to land regiments of the Imperial Guard. The fight will be hard, as the Bad Moons have large number of Weirdboyz and a number of those being Warpheads. Also, they are a wealthy ork clan, so many of their countless numbers are Flash Gitz, whom are even more numerous with the addition of the Freebooterz.
Captain Henry Clayton, acting commanding officer of the decimated Luggnum 129th regiment leaned against the gray plasteel hull of his tank, Emperor’s Fury (her name written proudly in golden paint on the barrel of her battle cannon) and glanced at the five cards in his hand. It was hard to play Tarot at the moment, sitting in the town square of Haven, where a full platoon of tanks stood guard, as two of the soldier’s under his command circled one another in the middle of the square. Every now and then, they would swing at one another, as their fellows cheered or shouted insults from where they were relaxing. It was hard to keep the men focused. They had been sent to the ass end of nowhere, far from the front lines and even father from any reports of the orks infesting the planet.
“Hit him harder Frankie” roared the tank commander, as he folded, “I have a full box a-smokes riding on you!”
His gambling partner, a one corporal Andy, the main gunner for his tank laughed softly, as he scooped up the handful of slugs, the smallest of Luggnum currency and of little worth. At least the men were in better spirits then they had been a few days ago, when they rolled into the mostly abandoned town. The lose of most of your friends and only links back home was hard and the sting of losing the colonel, the major and the regiment colors to orks on the way planetside made it only worse.
“So whens the new tankers getting here” asked Rex, the tank’s driver, as he picked up the cards and started to shuffle.
“I don’t know” said Henry, “The dataslate that came with the fuel and ammo only said they’d be showing up today.”
“Who’s our new commander” asked Dennis, the loader.
“Don’t know” said the tank commander again, “It didn’t say. It just said they were hammered as bad as we were and that they’d be showing up today.”
“Did yah try calling HQ?” ask Rex, starting to deal out another hand.
“Yeah” grunted Henry, “But theres something in the atmo. Only short-range vox signals are working. However, I doubt those bastards at headquarters woulda told me anything anyways. The only thing we’ll have to do is wait.”
“So who are we combining with” asked Andy.
“The Scintilla Two-thirty-forth.”
“Never heard of ‘em” wheezed David, one of the side gunners, before he took a long drink from a dark bottle.
“Gimme that” said Henry, snatching the bottle from the man’s callused hands, “What would Commissar Vendigroth say about you drinking again? He would have shot you, so I’ll remove the temptation, encase the Two-thirty-forth has a Hangman with ‘em.”
A slight breeze picked up and tugged gently on the edges of his unbuttoned and stained jacket, as the tank commander drained the bottle of crude (and burning) spirits down his throat (the drink had been made most likely within the bowels of his own tank). It was coming from the west, where both the capital of this colony was (and most likely burning from ork artillery fire) and the direction from which the Scintilla 234th regiment should me heading from. At least it was late spring on this planet, no winter chill to force the men to seek shelter and no summer heat for the same effect. Many of the trees bordering the town were covered in small pink flowers (which had a horrid smell that luckily didn’t spread far from the trees themselves), as they lead up into the mountains in the east and to those much further to the west, which cut them off from the capital.
Henry coughed as the liquor burned his throat. His fingers, those not holding the bottle, tapped against the turret. He wanted to get back into the fight, somewhere within the ork held territory around Nixios, would be the transports that had carried his doom comrades and their unit colors. Being joined with another regiment wouldn't be so bad, if they could just recover the battle honors they had won in two hard years of fighting in the emperor's Name. No more battle would be added to it but it would be uplifting to keep it in a personal place for his lads and they were his lads now, until they had a new commanding officer.
In the Calixis Sector of the Segmentum Obscurus, the Imperial colony on Zel Tertius is under assault by the Ork Warboss Bombad Bloodboy of the Bad Moons clan and Freebooterz mercenaries. As orks slaughter the planet’s citizens, the Imperial Navy smashes through the blockade to land regiments of the Imperial Guard. The fight will be hard, as the Bad Moons have large number of Weirdboyz and a number of those being Warpheads. Also, they are a wealthy ork clan, so many of their countless numbers are Flash Gitz, whom are even more numerous with the addition of the Freebooterz.
Captain Henry Clayton, acting commanding officer of the decimated Luggnum 129th regiment leaned against the gray plasteel hull of his tank, Emperor’s Fury (her name written proudly in golden paint on the barrel of her battle cannon) and glanced at the five cards in his hand. It was hard to play Tarot at the moment, sitting in the town square of Haven, where a full platoon of tanks stood guard, as two of the soldier’s under his command circled one another in the middle of the square. Every now and then, they would swing at one another, as their fellows cheered or shouted insults from where they were relaxing. It was hard to keep the men focused. They had been sent to the ass end of nowhere, far from the front lines and even father from any reports of the orks infesting the planet.
“Hit him harder Frankie” roared the tank commander, as he folded, “I have a full box a-smokes riding on you!”
His gambling partner, a one corporal Andy, the main gunner for his tank laughed softly, as he scooped up the handful of slugs, the smallest of Luggnum currency and of little worth. At least the men were in better spirits then they had been a few days ago, when they rolled into the mostly abandoned town. The lose of most of your friends and only links back home was hard and the sting of losing the colonel, the major and the regiment colors to orks on the way planetside made it only worse.
“So whens the new tankers getting here” asked Rex, the tank’s driver, as he picked up the cards and started to shuffle.
“I don’t know” said Henry, “The dataslate that came with the fuel and ammo only said they’d be showing up today.”
“Who’s our new commander” asked Dennis, the loader.
“Don’t know” said the tank commander again, “It didn’t say. It just said they were hammered as bad as we were and that they’d be showing up today.”
“Did yah try calling HQ?” ask Rex, starting to deal out another hand.
“Yeah” grunted Henry, “But theres something in the atmo. Only short-range vox signals are working. However, I doubt those bastards at headquarters woulda told me anything anyways. The only thing we’ll have to do is wait.”
“So who are we combining with” asked Andy.
“The Scintilla Two-thirty-forth.”
“Never heard of ‘em” wheezed David, one of the side gunners, before he took a long drink from a dark bottle.
“Gimme that” said Henry, snatching the bottle from the man’s callused hands, “What would Commissar Vendigroth say about you drinking again? He would have shot you, so I’ll remove the temptation, encase the Two-thirty-forth has a Hangman with ‘em.”
A slight breeze picked up and tugged gently on the edges of his unbuttoned and stained jacket, as the tank commander drained the bottle of crude (and burning) spirits down his throat (the drink had been made most likely within the bowels of his own tank). It was coming from the west, where both the capital of this colony was (and most likely burning from ork artillery fire) and the direction from which the Scintilla 234th regiment should me heading from. At least it was late spring on this planet, no winter chill to force the men to seek shelter and no summer heat for the same effect. Many of the trees bordering the town were covered in small pink flowers (which had a horrid smell that luckily didn’t spread far from the trees themselves), as they lead up into the mountains in the east and to those much further to the west, which cut them off from the capital.
Henry coughed as the liquor burned his throat. His fingers, those not holding the bottle, tapped against the turret. He wanted to get back into the fight, somewhere within the ork held territory around Nixios, would be the transports that had carried his doom comrades and their unit colors. Being joined with another regiment wouldn't be so bad, if they could just recover the battle honors they had won in two hard years of fighting in the emperor's Name. No more battle would be added to it but it would be uplifting to keep it in a personal place for his lads and they were his lads now, until they had a new commanding officer.
Twenty kloms east of the 129th's encampment, a trio of sentinels stood silent vigil among a copse of trees some hundred yards from the road. Abandoned groundcars littered the entire stretch of highway. Figures clutching modest belonging to their chests, holding the hands of friends and family, struggle doggedly through the clogged road.
Dark curly hair plastered to his forehead and the sides of his face, Regias Veche stood point. Rolling a cigar with one hand, his other reached over and tapped the auspex screen a few times. Nothing changed.
"Damn." Voxed Merrick, the least experienced of all the scouts under Veche's command and, therefore, his shadow. "Lookit that."
Finnel, far from the best scout in the 129th, and Veche's other squad mate, maintained the radio silence the LT had ordered. For which Regias was thankful. Admonishing Merrick now would do no good, the rookie would forget as soon as they left the cover of the trees. If he waited until they reached camp and gave Merrick the nastiest duties he could find, then the lesson would stick.
With a flare of butane Regias lit his cigar and took a puff. He would also need to send Merrick on some night time watches with one of the two veteran scouts back at camp. That should help to instill a little discipline and common sense.
Maybe when he got back to camp the promised reinforcements will have arrived with some decent scouts. Emperor, he hoped so.
Afew hours later Regias's squad lurched into view of the camp, the sentinels awkward seeming gait swaying the LT a little. As the trio halted, Veche lifted the camouflage netting from the face of his sentinel and stood stretching. The once-white sleeveless undershirt clung to his wiry frame, slick with sweat. Rank insignia, tattooed on his shoulders, stood out darkly from his pale skin. Regias reached into a cargo pocket on his left leg and produced his leather officer's cap. Shoving it over his head, he adjusted to the properly jaunty angle.
With a flourish he turned and slid down the front of his sentinel. Merrick and Finnel already checking the sentinels. "Merrick, you've got latrine duty for breaking radio silence. All week."
Regias moved on without waiting to see how the rookie reacted and walked into the jumble of soldiers carousing and laying bets. He pushed his way through the throng, amid murmurs of "Sorry, LT" to the table where square-faced Clayton sat, a bottle in hand.
Halting abruptly he sketched half a salute at the captain. "Not much to report, more civvies fleeing on foot. It's a good thing we commandeered that rig when we got here, from the look of abandoned groundcars out there, we would have been hard pressed for fuel ourselves."
Regias slipped the bottle from Clayton and tossed it back, the fire in his throat and chest making his permanently glazed eyes brighten a little. "I take our other half is still dragging their heels?"
Not waiting for a reply, he went on. "Frak it, Henry! No decent comm lines, and no word of when we'll get a supply drop. Hopefully they've got one and their bringin' it with 'em."
Regias took another swallow before setting the bottle down in front of Clayton and commandeering a chair from a nearby private. "I got twenty slugs that say Frankie goes down."
Dark curly hair plastered to his forehead and the sides of his face, Regias Veche stood point. Rolling a cigar with one hand, his other reached over and tapped the auspex screen a few times. Nothing changed.
"Damn." Voxed Merrick, the least experienced of all the scouts under Veche's command and, therefore, his shadow. "Lookit that."
Finnel, far from the best scout in the 129th, and Veche's other squad mate, maintained the radio silence the LT had ordered. For which Regias was thankful. Admonishing Merrick now would do no good, the rookie would forget as soon as they left the cover of the trees. If he waited until they reached camp and gave Merrick the nastiest duties he could find, then the lesson would stick.
With a flare of butane Regias lit his cigar and took a puff. He would also need to send Merrick on some night time watches with one of the two veteran scouts back at camp. That should help to instill a little discipline and common sense.
Maybe when he got back to camp the promised reinforcements will have arrived with some decent scouts. Emperor, he hoped so.
Afew hours later Regias's squad lurched into view of the camp, the sentinels awkward seeming gait swaying the LT a little. As the trio halted, Veche lifted the camouflage netting from the face of his sentinel and stood stretching. The once-white sleeveless undershirt clung to his wiry frame, slick with sweat. Rank insignia, tattooed on his shoulders, stood out darkly from his pale skin. Regias reached into a cargo pocket on his left leg and produced his leather officer's cap. Shoving it over his head, he adjusted to the properly jaunty angle.
With a flourish he turned and slid down the front of his sentinel. Merrick and Finnel already checking the sentinels. "Merrick, you've got latrine duty for breaking radio silence. All week."
Regias moved on without waiting to see how the rookie reacted and walked into the jumble of soldiers carousing and laying bets. He pushed his way through the throng, amid murmurs of "Sorry, LT" to the table where square-faced Clayton sat, a bottle in hand.
Halting abruptly he sketched half a salute at the captain. "Not much to report, more civvies fleeing on foot. It's a good thing we commandeered that rig when we got here, from the look of abandoned groundcars out there, we would have been hard pressed for fuel ourselves."
Regias slipped the bottle from Clayton and tossed it back, the fire in his throat and chest making his permanently glazed eyes brighten a little. "I take our other half is still dragging their heels?"
Not waiting for a reply, he went on. "Frak it, Henry! No decent comm lines, and no word of when we'll get a supply drop. Hopefully they've got one and their bringin' it with 'em."
Regias took another swallow before setting the bottle down in front of Clayton and commandeering a chair from a nearby private. "I got twenty slugs that say Frankie goes down."
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Captain Tira Briggs
For the hundredth time, Tira cursed the sun and bitterly wished that the Emperor would get up from his throne and smite the accursed star, but like most Guardsmen learn, the Emperor is usually too busy to help them. The logical part of her mind was saying it wasn’t the suns fault as it wasn’t even that hot out, but having marched over the miles has left her in a foul mood. Her chainsword slapping her thigh every step was also not helping her disposition, and she was sure there would be bruising.
Tira glanced back behind her at the two companies following behind in a long column formation. Looking at the scenario from a commander’s view, she was glad for the march. The constant walking and activity kept the guardsmen mind off the fact that they were all royally frakked. They were stranded with no heavy weapons and little supplies; they had lost their commanding officers, and their commissar. While, the commissar part wasn’t something she or any of her women would cry about, it still took away any chance of coordination.
She resisted a shudder as a bead of sweat rolled down her spine sending chills throughout her body. Like most of her women their uniforms were all still in well order, but a few of the guard, including Tira herself, lost their kepi. Lifting her hand she gently brushed some of her hair out of her face just in time to see the small town come into view at last.
The news that soon she would have to force her elite guardsmen to work with lowly engineers and dirty tank goons was disheartening to say the least. A mixed unit was never a good idea in the first place, but she had to admit, there was a far lower chance of her guardsmen lowering themselves to have ‘unauthorized’ relationships … with the dirty cog lovers.
All the thoughts and exhaustion Tira managed to keep off her face as she was trained since childhood for the dangerous ‘cloak and dagger’ world of politics, and it helped the guards to believe their commander had everything under control. Glancing back she caught the eyes of one of the younger women, a short red-headed, “Private, bring up Sergeant Hidlenbrag.”
For the hundredth time, Tira cursed the sun and bitterly wished that the Emperor would get up from his throne and smite the accursed star, but like most Guardsmen learn, the Emperor is usually too busy to help them. The logical part of her mind was saying it wasn’t the suns fault as it wasn’t even that hot out, but having marched over the miles has left her in a foul mood. Her chainsword slapping her thigh every step was also not helping her disposition, and she was sure there would be bruising.
Tira glanced back behind her at the two companies following behind in a long column formation. Looking at the scenario from a commander’s view, she was glad for the march. The constant walking and activity kept the guardsmen mind off the fact that they were all royally frakked. They were stranded with no heavy weapons and little supplies; they had lost their commanding officers, and their commissar. While, the commissar part wasn’t something she or any of her women would cry about, it still took away any chance of coordination.
She resisted a shudder as a bead of sweat rolled down her spine sending chills throughout her body. Like most of her women their uniforms were all still in well order, but a few of the guard, including Tira herself, lost their kepi. Lifting her hand she gently brushed some of her hair out of her face just in time to see the small town come into view at last.
The news that soon she would have to force her elite guardsmen to work with lowly engineers and dirty tank goons was disheartening to say the least. A mixed unit was never a good idea in the first place, but she had to admit, there was a far lower chance of her guardsmen lowering themselves to have ‘unauthorized’ relationships … with the dirty cog lovers.
All the thoughts and exhaustion Tira managed to keep off her face as she was trained since childhood for the dangerous ‘cloak and dagger’ world of politics, and it helped the guards to believe their commander had everything under control. Glancing back she caught the eyes of one of the younger women, a short red-headed, “Private, bring up Sergeant Hidlenbrag.”
“Bloody stars,” Simona hissed as she looked down on her mud covered boots. “Gonna take a damn life time to get this shit off.”
“Keep cursing like that and it’ll take a life-time amongst the Sisters of Battle to redeem yourself,” Caroline threatened. She was possibly one of the more religious people that Simona had met in her life, and it had never really earned her any favor from Simona’s side; it was actually bordering open hostility between the two, only the higher officers were the unseen wall which kept the two women from fighting openly.
Choosing to ignore the woman, Simona continued to march with the rest of what was left of the 234th Regiment. Simona commanded a unit of close-quarter experts, handpicked for their skills and experience in crammed and tight spaces they were send to board ships and go to crucial facilities, such as the power generators, radars, anything which would pin the pirates. A vast majority of the members came from the Underhive, the lowest part of the Scintilla Hive, where everyone were but another servant for some high ranked noble or rich merchant, and also where most gangers formed and fought.
“What’s the matter, sergeant? Something’s got your tongue?” Caroline asked, adding a thick layer of mockery to her tone, though Simona only smiled and responded.
“You know, those xeno orks really like big mouths like you…Makes it easier for them to shove their thing down your throat.”
Caroline’s jaw dropped and her eyes were wide with anger. She was boiling with fury so much that she almost stopped in her march; Simona on the other hand was very satisfied with herself and the result of the comment. The muffled chuckles and well hidden smiles on the other women told her that she had won this verbal fight, and besides, who said that marches had to be boring and hard?
“Sergeant, the captain wants to speak with you,” a private called as she approached Simona.
“Coming right away. Keep working that mouth, Caroline,” Simona said, giving the final insult as she trotted away from the column, just hearing her respond bitch!. Simona trotted up towards the captain. Her backpack clinked and clanked with all the equipment in it, from rationed food to her two demolition charges and the stockless shotgun, as well as more power charges and shotgun shells.
“Sergeant-Major Hildenbrag reporting, ma’am,” Simona said as she gave a salute for her superior officer.
Simona stood perhaps an inch taller than Captain Briggs, both of the women were leanly built though aside from these similarities there weren’t much which the two held in common, in fact they appeared to be complete opposites. Where Tira was tanned in a highly attractive manner, Simona was pale in comparison. Tina was born amongst the nobles and educated while Simona was a ganger and practically illiterate save from the basic low-gothic. Tina’s face was perfectly free from any signs of combat while Simona had several clear scars from knife fights and the time when her left side of her face was scolded by boiling steam and her left eye replaced with a bionic eye.
“Keep cursing like that and it’ll take a life-time amongst the Sisters of Battle to redeem yourself,” Caroline threatened. She was possibly one of the more religious people that Simona had met in her life, and it had never really earned her any favor from Simona’s side; it was actually bordering open hostility between the two, only the higher officers were the unseen wall which kept the two women from fighting openly.
Choosing to ignore the woman, Simona continued to march with the rest of what was left of the 234th Regiment. Simona commanded a unit of close-quarter experts, handpicked for their skills and experience in crammed and tight spaces they were send to board ships and go to crucial facilities, such as the power generators, radars, anything which would pin the pirates. A vast majority of the members came from the Underhive, the lowest part of the Scintilla Hive, where everyone were but another servant for some high ranked noble or rich merchant, and also where most gangers formed and fought.
“What’s the matter, sergeant? Something’s got your tongue?” Caroline asked, adding a thick layer of mockery to her tone, though Simona only smiled and responded.
“You know, those xeno orks really like big mouths like you…Makes it easier for them to shove their thing down your throat.”
Caroline’s jaw dropped and her eyes were wide with anger. She was boiling with fury so much that she almost stopped in her march; Simona on the other hand was very satisfied with herself and the result of the comment. The muffled chuckles and well hidden smiles on the other women told her that she had won this verbal fight, and besides, who said that marches had to be boring and hard?
“Sergeant, the captain wants to speak with you,” a private called as she approached Simona.
“Coming right away. Keep working that mouth, Caroline,” Simona said, giving the final insult as she trotted away from the column, just hearing her respond bitch!. Simona trotted up towards the captain. Her backpack clinked and clanked with all the equipment in it, from rationed food to her two demolition charges and the stockless shotgun, as well as more power charges and shotgun shells.
“Sergeant-Major Hildenbrag reporting, ma’am,” Simona said as she gave a salute for her superior officer.
Simona stood perhaps an inch taller than Captain Briggs, both of the women were leanly built though aside from these similarities there weren’t much which the two held in common, in fact they appeared to be complete opposites. Where Tira was tanned in a highly attractive manner, Simona was pale in comparison. Tina was born amongst the nobles and educated while Simona was a ganger and practically illiterate save from the basic low-gothic. Tina’s face was perfectly free from any signs of combat while Simona had several clear scars from knife fights and the time when her left side of her face was scolded by boiling steam and her left eye replaced with a bionic eye.
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Captain Tira Briggs
Tira snapped a salute back to the sergeant not breaking her stride. Oh yes, Sergeant Hildenbrag was perfect for the assignment Tira had in mind. Pausing she examined the Sergeant from beneath her long eyelashes, pale as if her skin hadn’t seen the sunlight in years, her face looked as if she had a long make out session with Tira’s chainsaw sword, her eye… always threatened to make Tira lose her lunch, and finally she was a tall woman with a strong presence. Despite how... unseeming the Sergeant may look, she did her job well, and Tira would want few others watching her back against a fight against Orks which would most likely lead to a close combat engagement no matter how hard they tried to keep it from that. It was a good thing Tira had kept up with her Chainsword training... but she had only used it against fellow officers in the Guard. Tira was confident in her swordsmenship, but the stories of Orks... they could not all be true could they?
“Sergeant Hildenbrag, I want you and your squad to scout ahead and rendezvous with the… other part of our regiment.” Tira said choosing her words carefully, “I want you to start claiming buildings for our HQ and barracks. Feel free to kick any Cog Lovers out in the dirt. If they have any problems tell them to report it to their CO, and I will deal with it once we arrive in a few hours.” Tira finished. This was an important first step in the pecking order that would need to be established soon.
This was more important than merely acquiring strategic buildings. She was sending Hildenbrag because of her extensive hand-to-hand skills which would do well in a brawl that would most likely ensue, Hildenbrag would serve as a crushing disappointment to any men hoping to mount something that night and hopefully lessen the inevitable brawls and disciplinary actions that will be required. Tira was under no delusions that some of her own would be looking for action as months aboard a ship could do that to anyone, but she was not going to be dealing with it unless necessary. It was best to nip it in the bud now.
“Remember Sergeant. I give you full permission to use force.” Tira added once more, which meant if you have to frak them up. A dirty cog lover wouldn’t be able to handle Sergeant Hildenbrag in a close quarters. If all went well, Tira would have some nice quarters in which to reside for the short amount of time they would be in the town before they set out once more to deal with the savage Orks. Honestly, Tira wasn't sure if the dreaded Xenos were any worse then the dirty, oil covered Cog Lovers that awaited them.
Tira snapped a salute back to the sergeant not breaking her stride. Oh yes, Sergeant Hildenbrag was perfect for the assignment Tira had in mind. Pausing she examined the Sergeant from beneath her long eyelashes, pale as if her skin hadn’t seen the sunlight in years, her face looked as if she had a long make out session with Tira’s chainsaw sword, her eye… always threatened to make Tira lose her lunch, and finally she was a tall woman with a strong presence. Despite how... unseeming the Sergeant may look, she did her job well, and Tira would want few others watching her back against a fight against Orks which would most likely lead to a close combat engagement no matter how hard they tried to keep it from that. It was a good thing Tira had kept up with her Chainsword training... but she had only used it against fellow officers in the Guard. Tira was confident in her swordsmenship, but the stories of Orks... they could not all be true could they?
“Sergeant Hildenbrag, I want you and your squad to scout ahead and rendezvous with the… other part of our regiment.” Tira said choosing her words carefully, “I want you to start claiming buildings for our HQ and barracks. Feel free to kick any Cog Lovers out in the dirt. If they have any problems tell them to report it to their CO, and I will deal with it once we arrive in a few hours.” Tira finished. This was an important first step in the pecking order that would need to be established soon.
This was more important than merely acquiring strategic buildings. She was sending Hildenbrag because of her extensive hand-to-hand skills which would do well in a brawl that would most likely ensue, Hildenbrag would serve as a crushing disappointment to any men hoping to mount something that night and hopefully lessen the inevitable brawls and disciplinary actions that will be required. Tira was under no delusions that some of her own would be looking for action as months aboard a ship could do that to anyone, but she was not going to be dealing with it unless necessary. It was best to nip it in the bud now.
“Remember Sergeant. I give you full permission to use force.” Tira added once more, which meant if you have to frak them up. A dirty cog lover wouldn’t be able to handle Sergeant Hildenbrag in a close quarters. If all went well, Tira would have some nice quarters in which to reside for the short amount of time they would be in the town before they set out once more to deal with the savage Orks. Honestly, Tira wasn't sure if the dreaded Xenos were any worse then the dirty, oil covered Cog Lovers that awaited them.
"Your on" said Henry, selecting a stack of twenty slugs from his pile and setting them aside, as the deck was shuffled for another hand. He was forced to take a deep breath, as Frankie, the instant he took his hand off the stack, took a blow to what was suppose to be his glass jaw. The private stumbled back, wavering on his feet And came back swinging. The entire company seemed to let out a breath, some in relief and the other half in frustration. More bets were laid out, everything, ranging from money to contraband booze to itho sticks, the smokes favored by most of the regiment.
"We may be frakked" continued the captain, as the cards were, a pile made for the Lieutenant as well, "But at least we're frakked in comfort."
He was of course referring to the house he had commandeered as his own billet and as regimental headquarters. It was the largest in the town, the former home of some sort of local minor noble, with fine beds and comfortable chairs. It was from that house, that he and his crew had dragged the ornately carved table out of, setting it up next to their tank. The rest of the company had found beds and personal space in the other buildings, maybe the beds weren't a nice or covered with silk sheets but it was a vast step up from cramped bunk beds in the compartments found in the bowls of a transport.
Henry peered at the five cards he had been dealt. A flush from the Adeptio suit and The Judge. No smile flicked over his face but he tossed three slugs into the pool and leaned back into his chair. Picking up the bottle, he took another mouthful of crude liquor.
"We may be frakked" continued the captain, as the cards were, a pile made for the Lieutenant as well, "But at least we're frakked in comfort."
He was of course referring to the house he had commandeered as his own billet and as regimental headquarters. It was the largest in the town, the former home of some sort of local minor noble, with fine beds and comfortable chairs. It was from that house, that he and his crew had dragged the ornately carved table out of, setting it up next to their tank. The rest of the company had found beds and personal space in the other buildings, maybe the beds weren't a nice or covered with silk sheets but it was a vast step up from cramped bunk beds in the compartments found in the bowls of a transport.
Henry peered at the five cards he had been dealt. A flush from the Adeptio suit and The Judge. No smile flicked over his face but he tossed three slugs into the pool and leaned back into his chair. Picking up the bottle, he took another mouthful of crude liquor.
Simona listened intently as she was briefed on what she was to do, and a small grin crept up her face when the Captain finished, “Consider it done, ma’am.” She then saluted again, turned her heel and jogged back to her unit. “Alright ladies, move out of formation and follow me. Special orders from the Captain herself,” she called and immediately her twenty five soldiers moved out of the column and started to jog after their leader.
Simona held the jog at a good rough pace so they could quickly get ahead of the main body and then she had them slowed down to a fast paced march which would allow them to save energy when they arrived at Haven.
The journey itself was eventless, and the soldiers slowly began to fall out of formation and into a more clumped group of soldiers walking at a fast pace, Simona didn’t mind, she actually quite welcomed the semi-disordered formation as she felt it would allow them to dodge for cover quicker. Also, she was an Underhiver, so naturally such formation was not something you saw from anyone else but the arbiters of the government.
Every now and then she would bark for a good jog to start so they could continue to get ahead and keep the pace. The women stayed on the concrete road and gave the nearby trees and shrubberies a suspicious look as they passed them; nature was not something you saw when you grew up on a Hive world, unless you were born in the High Spires which practically none of the guardswomen had.
After what appeared to have been an hour of hard marching, they come across a sign. ‘Haven → 800 m’ Simona then ordered a final jog to cross the distance, and within a shirt while they came within sight of the 129th regiment’s camp, located in the city center of Haven. The entire center was filled with vehicles of all forms from tanks to sentinels to chimeras; she quickly looked around the center to see what building would possibly work best as a tactical headquarters.
There was a temple dedicated to the God-Emperor, a hotel, an array station, a library, a courthouse and of course the building of the local noble. She then led her unit of soldiers directly over to a group of a dirty mob of men, “Civilians, we’re the scouting party of the 234th Scintilla regiment.” Simona declared when she approached the men who appeared to be in the middle of a gambling event. “Let it be known that the local mansion is to be the headquarters for Captain Briggs of the 234th Scintilla regiment, whoever already lives there will have to move out at once. No arguing,” she added sternly.
She then turned and looked at the other men who were wandering between the machines and then asked, “I can see the symbols for the 129th Luggnum regiment…Have you seen their crew?” She asked looking at the men in front of her. Simona did her best to keep her disciplined posture, ignoring the stares from the other men around the city center.
Simona held the jog at a good rough pace so they could quickly get ahead of the main body and then she had them slowed down to a fast paced march which would allow them to save energy when they arrived at Haven.
The journey itself was eventless, and the soldiers slowly began to fall out of formation and into a more clumped group of soldiers walking at a fast pace, Simona didn’t mind, she actually quite welcomed the semi-disordered formation as she felt it would allow them to dodge for cover quicker. Also, she was an Underhiver, so naturally such formation was not something you saw from anyone else but the arbiters of the government.
Every now and then she would bark for a good jog to start so they could continue to get ahead and keep the pace. The women stayed on the concrete road and gave the nearby trees and shrubberies a suspicious look as they passed them; nature was not something you saw when you grew up on a Hive world, unless you were born in the High Spires which practically none of the guardswomen had.
After what appeared to have been an hour of hard marching, they come across a sign. ‘Haven → 800 m’ Simona then ordered a final jog to cross the distance, and within a shirt while they came within sight of the 129th regiment’s camp, located in the city center of Haven. The entire center was filled with vehicles of all forms from tanks to sentinels to chimeras; she quickly looked around the center to see what building would possibly work best as a tactical headquarters.
There was a temple dedicated to the God-Emperor, a hotel, an array station, a library, a courthouse and of course the building of the local noble. She then led her unit of soldiers directly over to a group of a dirty mob of men, “Civilians, we’re the scouting party of the 234th Scintilla regiment.” Simona declared when she approached the men who appeared to be in the middle of a gambling event. “Let it be known that the local mansion is to be the headquarters for Captain Briggs of the 234th Scintilla regiment, whoever already lives there will have to move out at once. No arguing,” she added sternly.
She then turned and looked at the other men who were wandering between the machines and then asked, “I can see the symbols for the 129th Luggnum regiment…Have you seen their crew?” She asked looking at the men in front of her. Simona did her best to keep her disciplined posture, ignoring the stares from the other men around the city center.
"What the frak is this?" Regias muttered through the cigar clenched in his teeth. Frankie had come back from his close call with a devastating vengeance. The LT slid over his twenty slugs to Clayton with a muttered, "Emperor's bowels."
Wiping his hands on his pants, Regias studied the local maps set before him. There were roads aplenty and pocket cities scattered throughout the terrain. If the orks gained a foot hold here, it could take years to rout them.
"LT?" One of the passing troopers, an unofficial cook, handed him a thermos of recaf. He had probably got his start in one of the many diners on Luggnum.
"Thank you, trooper." After pouring himself a cup the Lieutenant set the thermos on the table for the others. "Well, if it comes to foraging we'll be alright. Dates are in season, and apparently one of the major exports."
Regias noted with slight interest the possible destinations of the fleeing civilians. He rubbed his neck with a sigh. Sleeping in a sentinel sometimes left a lot to be desired. The camo netting kept the bugs away, and the open cockpit helped with the heat.
Noise from across the throng reached the table, officers and non-coms looking up with interest. Regias stood, stacking the maps haphazardly. The crowd parted, revealing a hardened Imperial Guardsman. Infantry. Imperial Guardswoman. "Frak. Me."
Wiping his hands on his pants, Regias studied the local maps set before him. There were roads aplenty and pocket cities scattered throughout the terrain. If the orks gained a foot hold here, it could take years to rout them.
"LT?" One of the passing troopers, an unofficial cook, handed him a thermos of recaf. He had probably got his start in one of the many diners on Luggnum.
"Thank you, trooper." After pouring himself a cup the Lieutenant set the thermos on the table for the others. "Well, if it comes to foraging we'll be alright. Dates are in season, and apparently one of the major exports."
Regias noted with slight interest the possible destinations of the fleeing civilians. He rubbed his neck with a sigh. Sleeping in a sentinel sometimes left a lot to be desired. The camo netting kept the bugs away, and the open cockpit helped with the heat.
Noise from across the throng reached the table, officers and non-coms looking up with interest. Regias stood, stacking the maps haphazardly. The crowd parted, revealing a hardened Imperial Guardsman. Infantry. Imperial Guardswoman. "Frak. Me."
One might suppose it would be hard to mistake guardsmen for the civilian population of any planet (other then Cadia) but such was not the case for today. The men of 129th had gone around in the town, collecting some clean cloths from those left behind by the fleeing civvies, new shirts mostly, to wearing while off duty, leaving the dirty uniforms for wearing on their tanks. Still, the gather tankers smiled widely, when women in fine uniforms appeared, announcing that they were taking over the captain's billet and wanting to know where the troopers of Luggnum 129th where. A number of laughs rang out, from back in the crowd, where they couldn't be singled out.
"Your lookin at the One-twenty-ninth sweetheart" came a voice, followed by another, "You looking for a date?!"
More laughter rang out, as did catcalls. One man, in the front ranks, rolled up the sleeve of the blue shirt he had found to wear. He was bigger then the officers, sitting on the other side of the square, having spend his years in the mines shoveling the rubble left behind from the drilling rigs. He flashed his teeth, as a tattoo with his rank (a corporal) and the regimental insignia of the armored regiment he was a part of it, appeared on his pale skin, the black ink standing out. He flexed, attempting to impress the women before him. It had been a long time since they had any women around, a bit of a dry spell.
"You might want to clear your taking that house with Captain Clayton, he might be pissed about you taking his billet and our headquarters."
The crowd of tankers parted, allowing the scouts to see across to the poker table. The boxing match in the center had come to a close and the two fighters separated. Henry stood up from the table, slowly and flipped over his cards. The others, who weren't watching the table any more, missed as he swept up all the slugs and pocketed them.
"So long as your not frakking an enlisted Regias" the captain chuckled, patting the Lieutenant on the shoulder, before walking across the square.
"Your lookin at the One-twenty-ninth sweetheart" came a voice, followed by another, "You looking for a date?!"
More laughter rang out, as did catcalls. One man, in the front ranks, rolled up the sleeve of the blue shirt he had found to wear. He was bigger then the officers, sitting on the other side of the square, having spend his years in the mines shoveling the rubble left behind from the drilling rigs. He flashed his teeth, as a tattoo with his rank (a corporal) and the regimental insignia of the armored regiment he was a part of it, appeared on his pale skin, the black ink standing out. He flexed, attempting to impress the women before him. It had been a long time since they had any women around, a bit of a dry spell.
"You might want to clear your taking that house with Captain Clayton, he might be pissed about you taking his billet and our headquarters."
The crowd of tankers parted, allowing the scouts to see across to the poker table. The boxing match in the center had come to a close and the two fighters separated. Henry stood up from the table, slowly and flipped over his cards. The others, who weren't watching the table any more, missed as he swept up all the slugs and pocketed them.
"So long as your not frakking an enlisted Regias" the captain chuckled, patting the Lieutenant on the shoulder, before walking across the square.
Simona gave a heavy sigh, it had been far too long since she have had such contact with men, and their cat calling, whistling and their immature show offs was something she hadn’t really missed. Yet despite the yahooing and the calling, she maintained her strict posture, occasionally shutting her one good eye in annoyance as the men tried to get her attention, “I don’t care how upset your captain will be, the mansion belongs to the 234th Regiment till my captain says otherwise, or are you going to stop me?”
Simona cast a baleful look at the men surrounding her and her unit, they weren’t intimidated. Just what she needed, a bunch of men who thought that women would just fall into their arms and do what they demanded; she was the last person to commit to such a relationship, actually she saw it as being lowered below the status of an Imperial slave. At least slaves could cheat the system; wives couldn’t cheat the system when dealing with such men.
“Me and my soldiers will be claiming headquarters and barracks for the 234th regiment. If you have any objections you can either shove it up yours, or tell your captain.” Simona narrowed her one eye as she looked at the man who crossed the square, her finger tapping the side of her lasgun.
Her soldiers could sense the tension from their leader. A few placed the stock against the shoulder so they could quickly get a steady aim if things got ugly, while others clenched their hands into fists and ensured their footing. Simona knew she had but to say the word and the women would jump the men, but not now…Not now.
Simona cast a baleful look at the men surrounding her and her unit, they weren’t intimidated. Just what she needed, a bunch of men who thought that women would just fall into their arms and do what they demanded; she was the last person to commit to such a relationship, actually she saw it as being lowered below the status of an Imperial slave. At least slaves could cheat the system; wives couldn’t cheat the system when dealing with such men.
“Me and my soldiers will be claiming headquarters and barracks for the 234th regiment. If you have any objections you can either shove it up yours, or tell your captain.” Simona narrowed her one eye as she looked at the man who crossed the square, her finger tapping the side of her lasgun.
Her soldiers could sense the tension from their leader. A few placed the stock against the shoulder so they could quickly get a steady aim if things got ugly, while others clenched their hands into fists and ensured their footing. Simona knew she had but to say the word and the women would jump the men, but not now…Not now.
A mistake.
It had been a mistake that had landed him here. 'But service to the Emperor, that is all that matters in life.' The thought did little to ease the mind of the Enginseer as he gazed at the planet below. Writhing mechadendrites twitch in his foul mood, 'The reports said it is a tank division. I shudder to think of what blasphemies they have committed. What 'modifications' they have deluded themselves into thinking they needed. Pattern is perfection.' With a motion he signals the Servitor piloting his ship; a small transport, featuring minimal weapons and supplies, he had been dropped off by a passing cruiser. The Servitor responds to the non-verbal command and opens a vox connection- or rather tries to, the planet had so far refused to allow communications. "Wretched Greenskins. This is their doing. Not sure how, but I bet they have a green-paw in the mess."
Victris had a special dislike for the hulking green beasts; he found them disgusting, and loathed the 'Looted-Tanks,' the heathen creatures rode about in; the additions, the paint...the filth. They RAPED the Machine Spirit. It was beyond simply stealing a vehicle. To Victris it was SIN. In all his years he had seen the many faces of heresy; from the traitor legions of Chaos, to the sleek deadly precision of those cowardly Eldar. Even the soul quaking fury of the Tyranid. But nothing caused the Tech-priest such ire as the Orks. "An error in the system. Bah! It was divine will that I come here.." he glares at the planet below..."...but a tank division. Emperor save me, they will be as dirty as the Orks.."
After spending a few years aboard the Octimus Ligus, a Warlord-class Titan, these tanks would be simple to maintain. He figured after a few days the Servitors would be doing most of the menial tasks, allowing him time to examine the archeotech his servo-skulls would locate; It was well known that well-off people tended to hoard the ancient tech, it was also known that these same people were often the first put to the blade in times of crisis. There would be treasures to bring to the vaults on Mars, that was certain.
A motion, signaling the Servitor pilot again, the ship dips it's nose, beginning it's descent.
It had been a mistake that had landed him here. 'But service to the Emperor, that is all that matters in life.' The thought did little to ease the mind of the Enginseer as he gazed at the planet below. Writhing mechadendrites twitch in his foul mood, 'The reports said it is a tank division. I shudder to think of what blasphemies they have committed. What 'modifications' they have deluded themselves into thinking they needed. Pattern is perfection.' With a motion he signals the Servitor piloting his ship; a small transport, featuring minimal weapons and supplies, he had been dropped off by a passing cruiser. The Servitor responds to the non-verbal command and opens a vox connection- or rather tries to, the planet had so far refused to allow communications. "Wretched Greenskins. This is their doing. Not sure how, but I bet they have a green-paw in the mess."
Victris had a special dislike for the hulking green beasts; he found them disgusting, and loathed the 'Looted-Tanks,' the heathen creatures rode about in; the additions, the paint...the filth. They RAPED the Machine Spirit. It was beyond simply stealing a vehicle. To Victris it was SIN. In all his years he had seen the many faces of heresy; from the traitor legions of Chaos, to the sleek deadly precision of those cowardly Eldar. Even the soul quaking fury of the Tyranid. But nothing caused the Tech-priest such ire as the Orks. "An error in the system. Bah! It was divine will that I come here.." he glares at the planet below..."...but a tank division. Emperor save me, they will be as dirty as the Orks.."
After spending a few years aboard the Octimus Ligus, a Warlord-class Titan, these tanks would be simple to maintain. He figured after a few days the Servitors would be doing most of the menial tasks, allowing him time to examine the archeotech his servo-skulls would locate; It was well known that well-off people tended to hoard the ancient tech, it was also known that these same people were often the first put to the blade in times of crisis. There would be treasures to bring to the vaults on Mars, that was certain.
A motion, signaling the Servitor pilot again, the ship dips it's nose, beginning it's descent.
"Tell me what?"
Henry came to a stop at the front of the assembled tankers. Reaching in the pocket of his jacket (he was one of the few still in complete uniform, including the leather cap), he pulled out a half empty carton of itho sticks and pulled one out. Sticking it between his lips, he turned to a solider, who by the smell, had been bathing in promethium. The commander of the regiment's Artemia pattern hellhound, a twitchy pyromaniac with sergeant's strips and unable to control the urge to modify his tank into an unstable metal beast of fire, pulled out a lighter and flicked the wheel. A large flame appeared, lighting the captain's smoke.
Taking a second and his first puff, Captain Clayton studied the women standing in front of him, some of them looking ready to start shooting. The second thing he noticed (the first being the fact that they were all women), was the condition of their uniforms. Everything from tunic to trousers to the kepi, looked like they had just been issued, everything still stiff and starched. It was as if this girls had been dressed up in uniform and told to walk out here, just a day or so ago. He was not impressed by raw recruits or if they weren't that, toy soldiers, who had spent more time in the parade ground, then the battle field.
He almost smiled. The 129th Luggnum had never looked that shiny. Oh sure, at the founding, the tanks all had nice coats of paint, their uniforms were new and the men scrubbed but everything had dirt and dust on it, somewhere. With earth rising in dirt clouds from the mines and soot from the refineries, nothing remained clean for long, unless it was inside the mine boss's personal offices and homes. In two years, the tanks were scarred and repainted a few times. The uniforms got stained and torn in places, soaking up the smells of grease, smoke and sweat. Men became dirty again but washed now and then.
"Your unit not salute officers" asked Henry, in a mild, almost joking tone, "Name, rank and regiment soldier, if you would."
Henry came to a stop at the front of the assembled tankers. Reaching in the pocket of his jacket (he was one of the few still in complete uniform, including the leather cap), he pulled out a half empty carton of itho sticks and pulled one out. Sticking it between his lips, he turned to a solider, who by the smell, had been bathing in promethium. The commander of the regiment's Artemia pattern hellhound, a twitchy pyromaniac with sergeant's strips and unable to control the urge to modify his tank into an unstable metal beast of fire, pulled out a lighter and flicked the wheel. A large flame appeared, lighting the captain's smoke.
Taking a second and his first puff, Captain Clayton studied the women standing in front of him, some of them looking ready to start shooting. The second thing he noticed (the first being the fact that they were all women), was the condition of their uniforms. Everything from tunic to trousers to the kepi, looked like they had just been issued, everything still stiff and starched. It was as if this girls had been dressed up in uniform and told to walk out here, just a day or so ago. He was not impressed by raw recruits or if they weren't that, toy soldiers, who had spent more time in the parade ground, then the battle field.
He almost smiled. The 129th Luggnum had never looked that shiny. Oh sure, at the founding, the tanks all had nice coats of paint, their uniforms were new and the men scrubbed but everything had dirt and dust on it, somewhere. With earth rising in dirt clouds from the mines and soot from the refineries, nothing remained clean for long, unless it was inside the mine boss's personal offices and homes. In two years, the tanks were scarred and repainted a few times. The uniforms got stained and torn in places, soaking up the smells of grease, smoke and sweat. Men became dirty again but washed now and then.
"Your unit not salute officers" asked Henry, in a mild, almost joking tone, "Name, rank and regiment soldier, if you would."
Simona felt herself pinching her own skin just to maintain posture, and not to step forward and give the captain a hard punch across his jaw. As enjoyable as it would have been, the consequences could easily blow out of proportion; there’d be no way her and her squad would be able to fight tanks and sentinels.
If I would…Yeah, right you bastard, I’d rather let you keep guessing, Simona thought as she was requested to present herself. “I’ll take that as an order,” Simona said and then quickly gave the Aquila. “Sergeant-Major Simona Hildenbrag, third boarding unit of the 234th Scintilla regiment, sir,” she said venomously and then added, “Under the direct orders of Captain Tira Briggs, the local nobleman’s mansion is to be handed over to the 234th regiment. If you got question I strongly recommend you wait till my captain is here, till then I’d also advice that you comply with her orders.”
By now the other soldiers had lowered their weapons, though they still looked at the men with hostility. “So, captain, will there be any problems regarding these orders? In case I forgot tell you I was given the liberty to enforce these orders with whatever non-lethal force I deemed necessary.” Simona couldn't help but to show a triumphant smirk when she delivered the news. If the man wouldn't get scared of it, she was then certain that he'd back away.
If I would…Yeah, right you bastard, I’d rather let you keep guessing, Simona thought as she was requested to present herself. “I’ll take that as an order,” Simona said and then quickly gave the Aquila. “Sergeant-Major Simona Hildenbrag, third boarding unit of the 234th Scintilla regiment, sir,” she said venomously and then added, “Under the direct orders of Captain Tira Briggs, the local nobleman’s mansion is to be handed over to the 234th regiment. If you got question I strongly recommend you wait till my captain is here, till then I’d also advice that you comply with her orders.”
By now the other soldiers had lowered their weapons, though they still looked at the men with hostility. “So, captain, will there be any problems regarding these orders? In case I forgot tell you I was given the liberty to enforce these orders with whatever non-lethal force I deemed necessary.” Simona couldn't help but to show a triumphant smirk when she delivered the news. If the man wouldn't get scared of it, she was then certain that he'd back away.
234th Scintilla regiment? Henry's eyebrow twitched. This was the regiment they were suppose to be combining with? He didn't see a single male face in the lot of smartly uniformed infantry and he highly doubted this Captain Tira Briggs, would have pulled just women out to scout. By the Golden Throne of Holy Terra, what were they to do with a bunch of female crunchies and all looking like barracks rats to boot? While they might have the ability to make the nights more pleasant, it would be a major distraction, if the tankers were thinking about ass instead of fighting in the Emperor's name. It would have been better if the Munitorum just assigned a herd of Grox to the regiment. At least his boys could eat those.
"Now you see Sergeant-Major" said Captain Clayton, after a moment and a second puff of his Itho stick, "There are problems here. Firstly, that mansion has already been claimed as my regimental headquarters and as you can plainly see, the 129th Luggnum was here before you, we get first picks. The second being, I don't answer to Captain Briggs. You can have the hotel for the Two-thirty-fourth's headquarters if you want but Captain Brigg's orders don't carry much weight with me."
There was a soft but collective groan from behind him. A bunch of his boys taken over the suites in that building but losing those roomy accommodations, was much better then losing their headquarters. They also seemed to crowd around their captain. A bunch of girls, threatening their officer with non-lethal force, was not intimidating. Not when they had survived mine raids, which could be lethal. Not when they had survived rebels trying to slit their throats at night and ambushing them during the day. Not when they had survived fighting chaos armor and cultists trying to sacrifice them to dark gods.
"And theres a third problem" Henry added with a smile around his smoke, "We don't take orders from a bunch of girls, dressed up like toy soldiers."
"Now you see Sergeant-Major" said Captain Clayton, after a moment and a second puff of his Itho stick, "There are problems here. Firstly, that mansion has already been claimed as my regimental headquarters and as you can plainly see, the 129th Luggnum was here before you, we get first picks. The second being, I don't answer to Captain Briggs. You can have the hotel for the Two-thirty-fourth's headquarters if you want but Captain Brigg's orders don't carry much weight with me."
There was a soft but collective groan from behind him. A bunch of his boys taken over the suites in that building but losing those roomy accommodations, was much better then losing their headquarters. They also seemed to crowd around their captain. A bunch of girls, threatening their officer with non-lethal force, was not intimidating. Not when they had survived mine raids, which could be lethal. Not when they had survived rebels trying to slit their throats at night and ambushing them during the day. Not when they had survived fighting chaos armor and cultists trying to sacrifice them to dark gods.
"And theres a third problem" Henry added with a smile around his smoke, "We don't take orders from a bunch of girls, dressed up like toy soldiers."
Simona blinked a few times after Henry had finished talking, and then it hit her, Toy soldiers…Girls…Who the frack is thi- Simona stopped thinking and acted. Her fist flew out and landed square on Henry’s jaw, followed by a second hit to shoulder and then a third attempt to beat the pulp out of him; her unit acted on instincts, some dropped their weapons and flew headfirst into the men while others used their weapon stocks to beat the men.
Whatever the case it was obvious that the women lacked the brute strength of the men, though the Underhive ferocity and sheer killer instinct they all had was enough to give the men a proper match. Rough hands seized Simona by her uniform and threw her to the ground, temporarily rolling across the hard ground before she was back on her feet and gave a savage kick between another man’s groin.
All around her men and women screamed and roared as blows, kicks and even bites were exchanged. The women didn’t play fair and the men quickly adopted, turning the whole incident into an ugly fight of teeth and nails (quite literally). Simona could taste blood in her mouth and the vision from her bionic eye was starting to become more vague, though if she cared she certainly showed it by giving a heabutt, causing an audible sound of a man’s nose breaking.
With one man down another stepped in to take his place, “Piss off!” she screamed as she jumped at the man, hitting, kicking, biting and spitting at him. She was more interested in getting back and fighting with the so-called Captain of the 129th, although those aims quickly disappeared when she got a air ripping punch to the stomach.
Whatever the case it was obvious that the women lacked the brute strength of the men, though the Underhive ferocity and sheer killer instinct they all had was enough to give the men a proper match. Rough hands seized Simona by her uniform and threw her to the ground, temporarily rolling across the hard ground before she was back on her feet and gave a savage kick between another man’s groin.
All around her men and women screamed and roared as blows, kicks and even bites were exchanged. The women didn’t play fair and the men quickly adopted, turning the whole incident into an ugly fight of teeth and nails (quite literally). Simona could taste blood in her mouth and the vision from her bionic eye was starting to become more vague, though if she cared she certainly showed it by giving a heabutt, causing an audible sound of a man’s nose breaking.
With one man down another stepped in to take his place, “Piss off!” she screamed as she jumped at the man, hitting, kicking, biting and spitting at him. She was more interested in getting back and fighting with the so-called Captain of the 129th, although those aims quickly disappeared when she got a air ripping punch to the stomach.
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Cries of screaming women wake the large man from his slumber, and with a groan he started to pull himself up from the seat in his pattern Artemia pattern Hellhound, ware he had fled hours ago to steal some shuteye. Turning slowly in the cramped compartments of the Machine. He doesn't bother with the small ladder leading out of the tank, instead he simply reaches up with his bionic left arm, in a single movement, he starts to pull himself up and out of the Hellhound's cockpit.
Glancing around he instantly notes the turmoil in the town square, and for a moment he does nothing but stare, standing dumbstruck on the hull of his hellhound.
"Fucking lovely..."
He jumps down from the hull and moves toward the brawl, as he passes one of the brawling pairs, he reaches down with his bionic arm and plucks a screaming woman by her collar, roughly pushing her away as he offers a hand to the stunned man she had been beating senseless. Weakly, the much smaller man takes his hand. Letting himself be pulled up.
The mans name is Smite, The gunner for Telemachus's Hellhound, -The Flame of Terra-. As he starts to thank Telemachus but his words are cut short as the deep and gravely voice of his commander calls out.
"Smite, What in the holy name of Terra is going on here?"
Smite stutters and mumbles as he tries to explain the situation, in the end, nothing audible escapes his lips.
After a moment, Telemachus grows tired of the small man, simply pointing to the Hellhound before he releases the smites hand and moves toward the center of the brawl, simply pushing aside anyone who stands before him, and knocking down those few women who would dare tangle with with the heavily built, six foot five man, Clad in the formal attire of his regiment, though the sleeves of the buttoned up jacket had long ago been cut off. His left arm, entirely bionic, with cables running up from his elbow, into the jacket, and back out again from behind his collar, connecting to the back of his bald head.
"Henry!? The Fark is going on here!?"
Glancing around he instantly notes the turmoil in the town square, and for a moment he does nothing but stare, standing dumbstruck on the hull of his hellhound.
"Fucking lovely..."
He jumps down from the hull and moves toward the brawl, as he passes one of the brawling pairs, he reaches down with his bionic arm and plucks a screaming woman by her collar, roughly pushing her away as he offers a hand to the stunned man she had been beating senseless. Weakly, the much smaller man takes his hand. Letting himself be pulled up.
The mans name is Smite, The gunner for Telemachus's Hellhound, -The Flame of Terra-. As he starts to thank Telemachus but his words are cut short as the deep and gravely voice of his commander calls out.
"Smite, What in the holy name of Terra is going on here?"
Smite stutters and mumbles as he tries to explain the situation, in the end, nothing audible escapes his lips.
After a moment, Telemachus grows tired of the small man, simply pointing to the Hellhound before he releases the smites hand and moves toward the center of the brawl, simply pushing aside anyone who stands before him, and knocking down those few women who would dare tangle with with the heavily built, six foot five man, Clad in the formal attire of his regiment, though the sleeves of the buttoned up jacket had long ago been cut off. His left arm, entirely bionic, with cables running up from his elbow, into the jacket, and back out again from behind his collar, connecting to the back of his bald head.
"Henry!? The Fark is going on here!?"
Henry tasted blood. The inside of his lip had been sliced on his own teeth, when the Sergeant-Major had hit him. It had been a shock to his system, sure his regiment might be rude and get in your face but they didn't hit superior officers! Emperor's Bowels, he had been so caught off guard, that she had knocked him off his feet with a second punch. Snarling, he scrambled back to his feet, only to find himself in the middle of a general melee. Tankers, had the upper hand, with around two hundred of them left in the regiment, they out numbered the women almost eight to one. Not everyone was in the brawl, more then a score were sitting on their tanks. The twitchy sergeant, had pulled his driver and gunner out of the fight and even now loped towards his hellhound, one of two left in the regiment. If this was a scouting party, when was the rest of them suppose to arrive and what would happen when they did? Maybe the gunning of the flame tank's engine could cool things off and if not, they'd be ready for a proper fight.
The captain of the 129th scanning the chaotic mass of men and women. Members of both genders lay on the ground, stunned from hard blows or pinned down. Something caught in the corner of his eye, a women with a augmented eye. The Sergeant-Major and she was losing to the corporal who had flexed for her earlier. He smiled with satisfaction, teeth showing red, as she doubled over from a gut punch. He had a chance now, to get even on some level, before he tried to sort everything out. Pushing two men and women out of his way, Clayton ran forwards (the best he could in the mass) and with a glee unmeasurable, struck out with his foot. Booted heel connected with 234th Scintilla non-commissioned backside, as the voice of Lieutenant Telemachus reached his ears. Turning, he dodged back through the melee, until he found himself standing next to the tall man.
"Crazy bitches" said Henry, reaching under his right shoulder for the grip of his snubgun, "Tried to take over our headquarters and when I told them no, one of them slugged me."
Drawing the weapon, in the pool of calm around the hellhound commander, Captain Clayton held the revolver high, pointing into the sky. The weapon barked, as he pulled the trigger twice.
"Enough!" He shouted.
The captain of the 129th scanning the chaotic mass of men and women. Members of both genders lay on the ground, stunned from hard blows or pinned down. Something caught in the corner of his eye, a women with a augmented eye. The Sergeant-Major and she was losing to the corporal who had flexed for her earlier. He smiled with satisfaction, teeth showing red, as she doubled over from a gut punch. He had a chance now, to get even on some level, before he tried to sort everything out. Pushing two men and women out of his way, Clayton ran forwards (the best he could in the mass) and with a glee unmeasurable, struck out with his foot. Booted heel connected with 234th Scintilla non-commissioned backside, as the voice of Lieutenant Telemachus reached his ears. Turning, he dodged back through the melee, until he found himself standing next to the tall man.
"Crazy bitches" said Henry, reaching under his right shoulder for the grip of his snubgun, "Tried to take over our headquarters and when I told them no, one of them slugged me."
Drawing the weapon, in the pool of calm around the hellhound commander, Captain Clayton held the revolver high, pointing into the sky. The weapon barked, as he pulled the trigger twice.
"Enough!" He shouted.
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A moment of silence falls over the large man the as the words reach his ears, if anything, he is in shock. Not only at the blunt disrespect for the chain of command, something burned into all imperial Guardsmen and Guardswomen, But also, the bluntly stupid reason the fight had been started. Slowly he recovers himself and stands near the Captain, crossing his arms over his chest and mummering aloud, moments before the two shots are fired.
"Were fragged."
Another man had moved in behind Telemachus. A short man, grime covered man with a brown beard, yet not a hair on his head. His nose was broken, and a long scratch along his cheek leaked blood. However, he maintained a mellow expression despite this.
Vuur stooped down for just a moment, placing his hands on the arm of a stunned Imperial Gaurdswoman, and pulls her to her feet. A strong pat on the back and a small shove sends her away. Glancing around he notes the momentary stop in fighting, weather it was thoughts of the Commissars pistol cracking out in a similar manor, or just the orders of a commanding officer.
"Were fragged."
Another man had moved in behind Telemachus. A short man, grime covered man with a brown beard, yet not a hair on his head. His nose was broken, and a long scratch along his cheek leaked blood. However, he maintained a mellow expression despite this.
Vuur stooped down for just a moment, placing his hands on the arm of a stunned Imperial Gaurdswoman, and pulls her to her feet. A strong pat on the back and a small shove sends her away. Glancing around he notes the momentary stop in fighting, weather it was thoughts of the Commissars pistol cracking out in a similar manor, or just the orders of a commanding officer.
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Tira Briggs
As the column of over 400 guardswomen neared the town, Tira could hear the sounds of shouting and then two shots fired. Good. Two shots was probably someone attempting to restore order. From the sound it was not a lasgun or pistol, so it was not one of hers. It seemed she had picked the right women for the job in sending Hildenbrag. It was all about making the right first impression. Some might say that starting a brawl on purpose would be a bad first impression, but it sent exactly the one Tira wanted to send.
Tira stepped into the main square, the thunderous sounds of footsteps stopping at once in near perfect unison behind her. Pausing to check the damage, she liked what she saw. Eventhough her soldiers had been vastly outnumbered they did more than hold their own. A man at the center… or what passed as a man among these dirty scum, had a face that was already bruising. Oh yes, sending Hildenbrag was most definitely the right decision.
Pausing to take it all in, Tira flashed a smile, years of practice in the world of politics hiding any doubt in her eyes, “Oh, you all did not have to stop on our account.” She continued to walk forward using the massive column behind her to force the ones in front of her to move or be trampled over. She would not get stuck in a conversation or argument of who started what, or who claimed what. It would only undermine her authority.
“Lieutenants, I want a full report on all MIA’s and a roster. 1st Company, 2nd platoon go and secure that large house for our HQ, put any equipment that looks like it belongs to an officer in a spare bedroom.” She pointed towards the building that appeared like it belonged to a minor noble. The platoon moved off not waiting to be told otherwise and ignoring the men that stared, leered, or taunted them. They were disciplined and not quite as hot-headed as Hildenbrag’s guards.
“2nd Company 3rd Platoon, I want you to secure the perimeter and give me a briefing on the town and what supplies it has. 2nd Company, 2nd platoon, squads 4 and 5, I want you to go on a scouting trip. I want to know the nearby landscapes and defensible positions by tonight.” She continued to move through the crowd. Her constant barking of orders and moving the women was all to catch the cog lovers flat footed.
“And for the love of the Emperor, 1st company, 4th platoon, squad 3 clear up this mess. Get the wounded to the medics.” Tira said, before coming to a stop at the fellow captain… or what passed as a captain among the cog lovers. From the snubpistol in his hand, it was obvious it had been he who had fired.
“Lovely to meet you Captain. I am Captain Tira Briggs.” She said pausing to place her hands on her hips as she flicked her head to send the hair from her hazel eyes. He was the farthest thing from impressive she had ever seen, and the bruising on his face did not help, “Come, walk with me.” She said moving on. She did not pause to look back if he was following as if he didn’t. Her guards were already moving into position, and she did not mind another brawl now that the tables had turned to a 2 to 1 in her favor.
As the column of over 400 guardswomen neared the town, Tira could hear the sounds of shouting and then two shots fired. Good. Two shots was probably someone attempting to restore order. From the sound it was not a lasgun or pistol, so it was not one of hers. It seemed she had picked the right women for the job in sending Hildenbrag. It was all about making the right first impression. Some might say that starting a brawl on purpose would be a bad first impression, but it sent exactly the one Tira wanted to send.
Tira stepped into the main square, the thunderous sounds of footsteps stopping at once in near perfect unison behind her. Pausing to check the damage, she liked what she saw. Eventhough her soldiers had been vastly outnumbered they did more than hold their own. A man at the center… or what passed as a man among these dirty scum, had a face that was already bruising. Oh yes, sending Hildenbrag was most definitely the right decision.
Pausing to take it all in, Tira flashed a smile, years of practice in the world of politics hiding any doubt in her eyes, “Oh, you all did not have to stop on our account.” She continued to walk forward using the massive column behind her to force the ones in front of her to move or be trampled over. She would not get stuck in a conversation or argument of who started what, or who claimed what. It would only undermine her authority.
“Lieutenants, I want a full report on all MIA’s and a roster. 1st Company, 2nd platoon go and secure that large house for our HQ, put any equipment that looks like it belongs to an officer in a spare bedroom.” She pointed towards the building that appeared like it belonged to a minor noble. The platoon moved off not waiting to be told otherwise and ignoring the men that stared, leered, or taunted them. They were disciplined and not quite as hot-headed as Hildenbrag’s guards.
“2nd Company 3rd Platoon, I want you to secure the perimeter and give me a briefing on the town and what supplies it has. 2nd Company, 2nd platoon, squads 4 and 5, I want you to go on a scouting trip. I want to know the nearby landscapes and defensible positions by tonight.” She continued to move through the crowd. Her constant barking of orders and moving the women was all to catch the cog lovers flat footed.
“And for the love of the Emperor, 1st company, 4th platoon, squad 3 clear up this mess. Get the wounded to the medics.” Tira said, before coming to a stop at the fellow captain… or what passed as a captain among the cog lovers. From the snubpistol in his hand, it was obvious it had been he who had fired.
“Lovely to meet you Captain. I am Captain Tira Briggs.” She said pausing to place her hands on her hips as she flicked her head to send the hair from her hazel eyes. He was the farthest thing from impressive she had ever seen, and the bruising on his face did not help, “Come, walk with me.” She said moving on. She did not pause to look back if he was following as if he didn’t. Her guards were already moving into position, and she did not mind another brawl now that the tables had turned to a 2 to 1 in her favor.
Order seemed on the verge of being restored, when there was the sound of boots on the road. A column crunchies appeared, uniforms straight, marching crisply, as if this was a parade. Impressive to a civilian maybe but not to Captain Henry Clayton. It looked like the proud display of a PDF regiment chosen to be turned over the Guard and trying to prove they were soldiers, because they had polished their drill into perfection. When they got one whiff of Ork or any other xeno or heretic, these silly bitches would go running home for their mothers. However, his eye twitched, as the apparent officer in charge, began ordering her women about, including sending a platoon to take over his headquarters!
He could already see the men of his tank and the rest of the first platoon, a grand total of twenty-three (missing him), standing before the door of his billet. His teeth ground, as he opened his mouth to yell but he closed it, from across the square, there was the rumble of a engine. The Artemia pattern hellhound, Heretic's Bane, rolled forwards on her treads. He smiled slightly and waved his hand towards the warmachine. Without some form of acknowledgment, the metal beast, it's heavily armored fuel tank plain, turned from it's crossing the empty square, and clanked over to block the infantry platoon heading for the mansion . The terrible Inferno cannon, in it's remote turret tracked the guardswomen, a the hull mounted heavy flamer was brought to bare.
"You'll find Captain Briggs" called Henry, holstering his snubgun but not following after the woman, "That large house is already my HQ. As I told your sergeant before she decked me, starting this little brawl, you can have the hotel for your HQ."
He stood there, arms folded across his chest and smiled mockingly with bloody teeth, stretching the bruise on his face.
"It's Captain Henry Clayton, by the way."
He could already see the men of his tank and the rest of the first platoon, a grand total of twenty-three (missing him), standing before the door of his billet. His teeth ground, as he opened his mouth to yell but he closed it, from across the square, there was the rumble of a engine. The Artemia pattern hellhound, Heretic's Bane, rolled forwards on her treads. He smiled slightly and waved his hand towards the warmachine. Without some form of acknowledgment, the metal beast, it's heavily armored fuel tank plain, turned from it's crossing the empty square, and clanked over to block the infantry platoon heading for the mansion . The terrible Inferno cannon, in it's remote turret tracked the guardswomen, a the hull mounted heavy flamer was brought to bare.
"You'll find Captain Briggs" called Henry, holstering his snubgun but not following after the woman, "That large house is already my HQ. As I told your sergeant before she decked me, starting this little brawl, you can have the hotel for your HQ."
He stood there, arms folded across his chest and smiled mockingly with bloody teeth, stretching the bruise on his face.
"It's Captain Henry Clayton, by the way."
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Tira Briggs
She had to fight back the mental sigh. The captain would have made it easier on himself if he had simply walked with her. Tira did not pause or even look back as she caught up with the platoon heading for the house that had been blocked by the tank. Sadly for this captain, he did not realize that infantry did not go in straight lines or need to back up and find another way around. He was trying too hard in strutting like a cock; instead he should learn to fight with a little more subtlety.
Without the need for Tira to order them, the platoon split into two and walked around the hellhound without a word and moved towards the HQ. Tira leaned against the hull of the hellhound as she heard the Platoon closing on the soon to be Acquired HQ. The thing smelt terrible, she dully noted about the machine. She was not sure she wanted to know the last time it had been washed… or when the men inside it had last bathed.
Tira counted roughly 20 men blocking the door which was not a problem. A platoon consisted of five squads of ten men, so she had 50 men to his 20. “Don’t kill any of them.” Tira said simply. Years of close combat had two squads using the butts of their rifles to simply hold the men in a locked engagement only swinging their weapons or fist when the men managed to disengage as the other 3 squads snaked through the men and file into the HQ.
Pausing, now that many of her platoon had entered the HQ, she turned back around shaking her head and speaking like she would to a disobedient child the sounds of the struggling for the doorway still continuing, “You should have just taken the walk. I was simply going to share the HQ with you as you are my ranking equal.” Although that was the only way he was equal to her, “But due to your… strutting, I will now require that you take a nice long bath before stepping foot in… Our HQ.” She said flashing another large smile.
“It was so lovely to meet you Captain Clayton, and it is such a shame you would not take a walk with me as it would have been much simpler. Now if you will excuse me, I will go and claim my quarters, which I have no doubt used to be yours.” She walked around the tank knowing it was merely a bluff. He could fire, but then her women would kill most of his own men including himself before they got near their tanks. She doubted he was that stupid, maybe close, but not quite that far.
Stopping at the base of the steps watching the struggling, she drew both her chainsword and laspistol. The sound of ionizing air ripped through the courtyard as she shot a round in the air. “Now that you… men had failed to stop the platoon, it would be best to cease and desist.” She said calmly. She motioned with her chainsword, her eyes taking on a special glint, “The next thrown punch loses the arm.”
Turning halfway to keep an eye on the soldiers and cog lovers, Tira stopped as if just remembering something important, “Oh” She said pausing and turning to face him once more, “Don’t forget that bath Captain.”
She had to fight back the mental sigh. The captain would have made it easier on himself if he had simply walked with her. Tira did not pause or even look back as she caught up with the platoon heading for the house that had been blocked by the tank. Sadly for this captain, he did not realize that infantry did not go in straight lines or need to back up and find another way around. He was trying too hard in strutting like a cock; instead he should learn to fight with a little more subtlety.
Without the need for Tira to order them, the platoon split into two and walked around the hellhound without a word and moved towards the HQ. Tira leaned against the hull of the hellhound as she heard the Platoon closing on the soon to be Acquired HQ. The thing smelt terrible, she dully noted about the machine. She was not sure she wanted to know the last time it had been washed… or when the men inside it had last bathed.
Tira counted roughly 20 men blocking the door which was not a problem. A platoon consisted of five squads of ten men, so she had 50 men to his 20. “Don’t kill any of them.” Tira said simply. Years of close combat had two squads using the butts of their rifles to simply hold the men in a locked engagement only swinging their weapons or fist when the men managed to disengage as the other 3 squads snaked through the men and file into the HQ.
Pausing, now that many of her platoon had entered the HQ, she turned back around shaking her head and speaking like she would to a disobedient child the sounds of the struggling for the doorway still continuing, “You should have just taken the walk. I was simply going to share the HQ with you as you are my ranking equal.” Although that was the only way he was equal to her, “But due to your… strutting, I will now require that you take a nice long bath before stepping foot in… Our HQ.” She said flashing another large smile.
“It was so lovely to meet you Captain Clayton, and it is such a shame you would not take a walk with me as it would have been much simpler. Now if you will excuse me, I will go and claim my quarters, which I have no doubt used to be yours.” She walked around the tank knowing it was merely a bluff. He could fire, but then her women would kill most of his own men including himself before they got near their tanks. She doubted he was that stupid, maybe close, but not quite that far.
Stopping at the base of the steps watching the struggling, she drew both her chainsword and laspistol. The sound of ionizing air ripped through the courtyard as she shot a round in the air. “Now that you… men had failed to stop the platoon, it would be best to cease and desist.” She said calmly. She motioned with her chainsword, her eyes taking on a special glint, “The next thrown punch loses the arm.”
Turning halfway to keep an eye on the soldiers and cog lovers, Tira stopped as if just remembering something important, “Oh” She said pausing and turning to face him once more, “Don’t forget that bath Captain.”
When the gun shots were fired people threw themselves to the ground or ducked for cover, in Simona’s case it worked as a perfect temporary distraction from the bulky man who got a well hammered punch into his most sensitive body-part which made him topple over.
She then stood up and got the worst of her uniform back in place as she saluted Captain Briggs when she approached. Her uniform had been torn in places and a few bottoms had been ripped off, could have been far worse so she considered herself darn blessed…Well, at least till she noticed the tiny blood stains on her sleeves. Bloody stars, that’ll never come off!
She nodded to her orders though she didn’t immediately jump to do them, she waited till the Captain was finished talking with the rag-tag leader and then approached the man, “You called it. One, nil,” she said with a wide smirk on her face and then marched off to get her lost beret and get to work.
Simona gathered her unit and evaluated the damages they had suffered during the skirmish; a few were sent the medics’ way while the rest were to stay and clean up the worst of the mess in the square. While the women had gotten beaten rather badly they still felt victorious, the men’s captain had made the call for the fight to end and they saw that as a sign that he had thrown the towel in the ring, that and the fact that they had been fighting fair (meaning no knife stabbing, strangling, hijacking vehicles and driving anyone down) only boosted their morale.
When they finished Simona ordered her unit into their new HQ and then went to see a medic. Her bionic eye was showing signs that it needed to get tuned and while it wasn’t a medic’s expertise, it was still worth a shot.
She then stood up and got the worst of her uniform back in place as she saluted Captain Briggs when she approached. Her uniform had been torn in places and a few bottoms had been ripped off, could have been far worse so she considered herself darn blessed…Well, at least till she noticed the tiny blood stains on her sleeves. Bloody stars, that’ll never come off!
She nodded to her orders though she didn’t immediately jump to do them, she waited till the Captain was finished talking with the rag-tag leader and then approached the man, “You called it. One, nil,” she said with a wide smirk on her face and then marched off to get her lost beret and get to work.
Simona gathered her unit and evaluated the damages they had suffered during the skirmish; a few were sent the medics’ way while the rest were to stay and clean up the worst of the mess in the square. While the women had gotten beaten rather badly they still felt victorious, the men’s captain had made the call for the fight to end and they saw that as a sign that he had thrown the towel in the ring, that and the fact that they had been fighting fair (meaning no knife stabbing, strangling, hijacking vehicles and driving anyone down) only boosted their morale.
When they finished Simona ordered her unit into their new HQ and then went to see a medic. Her bionic eye was showing signs that it needed to get tuned and while it wasn’t a medic’s expertise, it was still worth a shot.
Setting
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"She's got some fight in here... have fun boss..." He addresses Henry before patting him hard ont he back, a clappingsound is heard, then he walks off, his hands in his pockets, and his head tilted down toward the ground.
Walking bluntly passed a few of the women, before he moves to lean against the hull of his hellhound. More than one Guardswomen train their rifles on the large bionic, leaning against the hull of his war machine. In return, he simply smiles down at them, politely nodding.
"Morning, lovely weather were having today, don't ya agree?"
His two crew members rest near him, Both lounging on the top of the hull, resting as though nothing was happening around them. Smoking happily as though it were an average afternoon, however, smite could easily be inside the Hellhound in roughly four seconds... if he needed to be. In the same ideal, Vuur could, with some luck, Knock down the nearest female trooper, who stood well within arms reach, but didn't move from her post.
He also makes a point to tip his cap toward the woman with the bionic eye, ment as a simple and polite gesture, but it could easily be taken as mockery all the same.
Walking bluntly passed a few of the women, before he moves to lean against the hull of his hellhound. More than one Guardswomen train their rifles on the large bionic, leaning against the hull of his war machine. In return, he simply smiles down at them, politely nodding.
"Morning, lovely weather were having today, don't ya agree?"
His two crew members rest near him, Both lounging on the top of the hull, resting as though nothing was happening around them. Smoking happily as though it were an average afternoon, however, smite could easily be inside the Hellhound in roughly four seconds... if he needed to be. In the same ideal, Vuur could, with some luck, Knock down the nearest female trooper, who stood well within arms reach, but didn't move from her post.
He also makes a point to tip his cap toward the woman with the bionic eye, ment as a simple and polite gesture, but it could easily be taken as mockery all the same.
- 55 posts here • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
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View All » Add Character » 10 Characters to follow in this universe
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Arin 'Sharps' Sharpe
"I'll tell you one thing. They aren't green with Envy..."
Solomon Cromwell
A last minute addition to the 234th.
Telemachus Vuur
"And they smote the enemies of the Emperor with a righteous fury, for they knew they were doing His work."
Simona Hildenbrag
"I'll gut 'em with a butter knife if I have to, ma'am"
Regias Veche
A young, impudent scout officer.
Tira Briggs
"Ugh, I don't know what smells worse: The Orks or the Men.
ThroatSlitta
"Da Humiez will never know wut hit em."
Henry Clayton
Captain and tank commander in the Scum 363rd
Trending
Henry Clayton
Captain and tank commander in the Scum 363rd
ThroatSlitta
"Da Humiez will never know wut hit em."
Telemachus Vuur
"And they smote the enemies of the Emperor with a righteous fury, for they knew they were doing His work."
Solomon Cromwell
A last minute addition to the 234th.
Tira Briggs
"Ugh, I don't know what smells worse: The Orks or the Men.
Simona Hildenbrag
"I'll gut 'em with a butter knife if I have to, ma'am"
Regias Veche
A young, impudent scout officer.
Arin 'Sharps' Sharpe
"I'll tell you one thing. They aren't green with Envy..."
Most Followed
Henry Clayton
Captain and tank commander in the Scum 363rd
Arin 'Sharps' Sharpe
"I'll tell you one thing. They aren't green with Envy..."
Regias Veche
A young, impudent scout officer.
Telemachus Vuur
"And they smote the enemies of the Emperor with a righteous fury, for they knew they were doing His work."
ThroatSlitta
"Da Humiez will never know wut hit em."
Solomon Cromwell
A last minute addition to the 234th.
Simona Hildenbrag
"I'll gut 'em with a butter knife if I have to, ma'am"
Tira Briggs
"Ugh, I don't know what smells worse: The Orks or the Men.
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Breaking the WAAAAAGH!: Out of Character
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Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
1 ... 7, 8, 9by Irish Wolf on Tue Mar 27, 2012 6:25 pm
- 161 Replies
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- Last post by Irish Wolf
on Wed May 09, 2012 6:24 pm
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Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Most recent OOC posts in Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Sorry, but i think we've run about the bush long enough. Lets get some posting going.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
No worries, mate. Life happens and this thread is gonna be up for a long time thanks to our lord Remaeus, PRAISE HIM!
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
I finally get that post I wanted out of 7 and what happens? The fleet comes in, all at the same damn time it seems, we get a bunch of big orders and I over sleep. I blame Tzeentch, the dirty old buzzard.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Either that, or he's given a bunny suit and 30 minutes to hide from a Catachan elite squad to hunt him.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Regias might end up on a pyre or tied to the front of a hellhound for all his uncouth remarks on the body of the emperor.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Told you 7, there was no need to wait on The Loonybin. Now post, so I can make one, without this seeming like a one on one with me and WAAGAH!
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Bleh. Sorry about the lack of posting. Occupied IRL. ((Interning.))
You two can skip forward if you like, I have had vary little time to work on that post.
You two can skip forward if you like, I have had vary little time to work on that post.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
I've no clue what to post though...do we skip to the next day or will we wait for someone to finish conversations or...?
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Someone needs to post. It's been near four days since I put in an entrance.
Don't die on me!
Don't die on me!
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Sorry about the lack of activity, I have had little to no spare time to work on drafting a post this week. Working on it currently however.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
I have no problem with it, but you'll be in charge of training as well. In a later post I mentioned sending out the rookie with you (or the non entity that was you) so all is well.
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Lucky you, getting to bold your stuff!!
Ok. I guess he's a Veteran Sergeant under the command of 7achary's character then. He'll command the one other veteran scout that was mentioned in a post (Which I reread.)
Sound about right 7achary?
Ok. I guess he's a Veteran Sergeant under the command of 7achary's character then. He'll command the one other veteran scout that was mentioned in a post (Which I reread.)
Sound about right 7achary?
Re: Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
Nope, just check, bold at least, works for me and Sharps is approved, although you need to put his ranks in the profile.