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Breaking the WAAAAAGH!

Warhammer 40k

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a part of Breaking the WAAAAAGH!, by Irish Wolf.

None

Irish Wolf holds sovereignty over Warhammer 40k, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

607 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/home.jsp

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Default Location for Breaking the WAAAAAGH!
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Warhammer 40k is a part of Breaking the WAAAAAGH!.

9 Characters Here

Henry Clayton [26] Captain and tank commander in the Scum 363rd
Simona Hildenbrag [26] "I'll gut 'em with a butter knife if I have to, ma'am"
Tira Briggs [21] "Ugh, I don't know what smells worse: The Orks or the Men.
Regias Veche [11] A young, impudent scout officer.
Telemachus Vuur [7] "And they smote the enemies of the Emperor with a righteous fury, for they knew they were doing His work."
Victris Yorke [1] Enginseer
ThroatSlitta [1] "Da Humiez will never know wut hit em."
Arin 'Sharps' Sharpe [0] "I'll tell you one thing. They aren't green with Envy..."
Solomon Cromwell [0] A last minute addition to the 234th.

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#, as written by 7achary
Regias nodded politely, his teeth clenched over his cigar in a tight smile. He did not care if the woman had been promoted to Brigadier General. Treating senior officers like enlisted men was as far from formal military procedure as you could get. Blowing smoke out over the fire, cigar in his right hand, the Lieutenant considered what had brought him here and opted not to give the rude woman a piece of his mind. Trenches. This was going to be a long and arduous campaign, winning against this green menace was going to be difficult. And then there were the orks.

After Sergeant Alpha Bitch was done Regias nodded at Lt. Vuur and motioned the senior officer past him. They walked a bit away from the fire and out of ear shot of the enlisted men. Regias blew a few smoke rings before throwing the stub of a cigar on the ground. He reached into one of his pants pockets and produced a flask of something he had bought from one of the chimera boys. Claimed he made it in the engine. The younger officer tipped the flask back and coughed violently as what had to be promethium seared it's way through his lungs.

"Divine Piss of the Emperor!" He gasped out, steadying himself on Vuur's shoulder. "Well, we should just give this to the orks. That'll end this war quick, aye?"

Offering the flask to his senior, Regias began, "I've done what I can to assist their scouts, maps of the area and nearby terrain. Kind of a test to see if Henry ever hears about it. If he does we might be able to pull together, if not I'll be praying for a Commissar. Think that captain of theirs would be willing to put her scouts under my command? We'd get a lot more done that way. More organization and ground covered. I'm not sure if she'll go for it." Regias' voice was hoarse from the drink, he spat to clear his throat. "What are your thoughts on our situation, Vuur? Got any ideas on what we should be doing to make this a single regiment?"

Fumbling for a cigar, Regias looked toward the camp fire. The men were organizing and preparing to follow Lieutenant Hildenbrag. Finding the cigar he stuck it between his teeth and lit it with a promethium lighter.

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Character Portrait: Regias Veche Character Portrait: Simona Hildenbrag Character Portrait: Telemachus Vuur
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The Bumbling crew members had both fallen silent at her sudden, and snappy reply. Smite threw up a quick and vary proper salute, then quickly turned and walked away from the fire. Jose had been dumbstruck, not even understanding her anger with him, he raises a hand to his bald head and wiped off a bit of sweat, giving her an odd look before mummering.

"Yes Lieutenant... Just let us know when this work starts then..."
Turning on a heel, he fallows smite away from the fire, pausing to take a sip from his canteen. Much to his own disappointment, it was only water. "

Frak It... they eye must have fried her brain..."


Said only when safely away from her range of hearing.

Vuur had watched the woman closely, his eyes falling over her in silent observation. At first, noting her patience, putting up with his own salute, then he had noted her near inhuman patience, putting up with Smites own cowardly bumbling, his desperate attempt to slide his way of work. However, the final test was Jose, who dared to fancy himself a ladysman. At this note, he noted her pride, she had worked for her rank, she had strived to prove her worth, and even payed a price possibly. Her eye. He would grin vividly as she snaps at his Driver, he may just take a liking to the small women, for that action alone.

Planning starts in his own mind, he could work threw the night finding supply with little issue, his Bionics capable of keeping him running effectively for up two four days without sleep, though it would stress them, however he would likely work alone. Jose would likely resent her, and he would be lucky if Smite even showed up tomorrow. Inwardly he scowls at this.

"Going to have to shift threw some of these old buildings, break some windows, cut threw the doors... Maybe Pry nails from some of the ruined floors... might as well make Jose useful, raid his Booze for those Molotovs.”

He also contemplates using his own supply of old mining charges, while they weren't made to be used in war, they certainly could be. He would have to think on this a bit more, he had always kept the charges, assuming he would one day need them. Being a bit paranoid and indecisive in his choice of using them, the old case he kept them in hadn't been opened for years.

For better or worse, he becomes so lost in these thoughts, and falls silent, even as Regias moved to stand next to him, and only to shaking his head polite in response to her ask for questions, as if to say.

"No.”

. In the last few months, he had grown fond of the small man, while they had little in common, he had shown basic respect to Vurr, something he returned.

Starting to Fallow the man away from the fire. Vuur Pauses to glance over his shoulder at the Bionic Lieutenant, speaking in a clam tone, His deep baritone voice again devoid of emotion, but the words said would suggest a minor twinge of respect.

"Yes Ma'ma, I'll see to it we scrounge supply's up tonight, you should try to get some sleep as well."


Nodding his head down slightly in final motion, he moves to catch up with Rigais, not a hard feat for him, due to the length of his own legs. Apon catching up with the man, he moves his hands calmly behind his back, entwining bionic fingers with his natural ones. As he had done throughout the entire encounter with Simona. Chuckling softly as Rigais attempts to kill himself by daring to drink the home made booze, it is was odd sound, due to the metallic twinge in his voice.


”That may work, but then again, I suspect they are better at holding down booze than you.”

He mused softly, his tone a low one, amongst a man he may consider to be a friend, he doesn’t attempt to mask the emotion in his voice. He is highly bemused.

At the small flurry of questions, the man pauses. Breaking the grip of his hands to raise his bionic fingers to his chin, at the same time, he hooks the thumb of his human hand in the pocket of his suspenders.


”She may, if you ask with utter respect, and earn some before doing so...I believe.... the largest issue between the ranks is the separation of units types. However, are all all part of his will, and both unties, are in fact his hammer.”

He pauses and closes his eyes, reflecting on words he had learned as a child, Telemachus had always had a deep faith in the God Emperor, and had never shied away from showing it.

”For now, there will be discontent between the ranks... but once the fighting starts, we will be wielded together, for if one thing has proven to unite men, and women, and humans on the whole in the past...”

He pauses to glance down at the smaller man.

”It has been war.”


He continues after a moment of silence.

”Until then... a bit of basic respect for those who die In mass for the emperor would go a long way on our part... not only are they Soldiers, they are ‘Women.’ Equality is important to them... as is their pride.”

Inwardly, he thinks about the one eyed Lieutenant, for she is the prime example of what he speaks about. If anything, respect is due to the women who had the balls to sock a Captain in the jaw... though under any other situation, she would have been dead hours ago...

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#, as written by 7achary
Regias raises a rueful eyebrow at the contemplative Telemachus. "For the Emperor."

Later that evening, after parting ways with his fellow officer, Regias sat above the encampment in his sentinel. His cigar hung limply in his grasp, the embers having gone out some time ago. Soon the real war would start. In his mind war was the rumble of a dozen tank engines as they rolled over the enemy. War was the thump of artillery and las cannons, the smell of burning flesh and motor oil. Working with infantry would change everything. He trusted Clayton to work out a dependable strategy, but would Briggs let him?

Merrick, a shameless gossip, had informed him that the entire 234th had been Navy until recently. What could they possibly know about planet warfare? That might explain the trenches, but Regias turned his mind away from the regimental commanders and turned his body over, pushing his blanket away. It was a good cool night, and possibly the last one spent in peace. The answers to all his questions would be waiting for him in the morning. The orks would be waiting as well.

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Character Portrait: Simona Hildenbrag
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#, as written by SK-Man
The following morning the 234th was awaken by their commanding officers. Orders were shouted and the platoons were set to prepare for the defenses of the city; every kind of equipment that could be used for digging was distributed (from proper spades to opened tin cans to spoons and knives). The 234th, in their hundreds, began doing their task with disciplined dedication; some groups would sing or hymn songs while others preferred to be more focused.

Simona and a few sergeants, had taken a selected few whom they used to create the get-away paths from the outer tunnels. The paths weren’t anything overly nice though they were clearly marked for anyone to know where they were and how they worked.

When the pathways were made Simona took a good look at the progress the women were making. Long hard hours of work was what was expected of the Guard, though she understood that many felt that their skills were being undermined if not devalued by their superiors, though she had a solution for that as well…“ ’Ey, what’s with the face, soldier?” Simona asked as she jumped into the deepening trenches and took part of the work.
“Nothin’, ma’am…Just, why do we need to dig these holes? Them men are miners, they should do this kind of shit,” one of the soldiers complained followed by agreeing moans from the other women.
“Bah, you want them men to think we can’t lift a shovel? Want to ask you, ‘oh did you break a nail?’. Don’t know about you, ladies, but whichever man asked me that would get to know what ‘getting canned’ really means.”
Soft chuckles could be heard amongst the soldiers as they continued to listen and work. “I’m telling ya, these days we need some real women to do these kind of things. Let those cog-lovers hide inside their machines, we’re the real heroes here!” That gave the final raise in morale as the women cheered and worked on.

The 234th still had a lot of work to do if they were to finish the outer trench and then the inner trench.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Clayton Character Portrait: Tira Briggs Character Portrait: Regias Veche Character Portrait: Simona Hildenbrag Character Portrait: Telemachus Vuur
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Captain Clayton was getting tired of the games, every conversation with this infantry counterpart turned into a duel of some sort so far (which may of have been partly his fault) and it was getting annoying. While he was no noble brat, who was mother's milk was politics, he had been a leader of men, just high enough to get taste of them. To know enough when someone was playing him and to know that he was an untrained, ham-handed novice in that arena. Of course, there are always dangerous amateurs or at least ones that can pull off a sucker punch now and then.

"Oh I trust you" said Henry, as pleasantly as he could, "Its your troops I don't have faith in. After all, if your Sergeant Major goes around assaulting officers and in front of her troops to boot, how disciplined can your rank and file be? However, I'm willing to give second chances. I'll just have my supervisors discreetly check how wide the trenches are being dug. I wouldn't put it passed your girls to try to leave us behind, to slow the orks down, when you decide its time to run away. Hopefully that will be after they fire their first shot."

"Have a good night" added the tanker, with an overly sweet smile, before he turned away from both the captain and the map. Not waiting for Tira to fire back another salvo or correct him on Hildenbrag's new rank, he scooped up his kit, the banners and strolled out of the room. Picking up the pace and taking long strides, he made sure that the only way she was going to catch up with him, was if the good Captain Briggs ran after him. Chuckling softly, he push his way out of the house, using his shoulder to force the way between the female crunchies and keep the banners unspoiled.

Stepping outside and into the dying light of the late afternoon, he continued walking, across the open plaza in the middle of Haven. Nodding to every tanker he passed, he didn't stop until he reached the hotel. It was finer then anything his boys had billeted in before but not as nice as the noble's house he had just left. True, he was now closer to his men and their supply depot, which was always a good thing but part of him was still fuming over being evicted from that glorious bed he had claimed. He took a little satisfaction however, in the fact, that there was only one set of sheets for bed in the master bedroom. The boys hadn't found any others, when they were "scouting" the place out.

The only reason he knew that, was because the sheets on the bed had already been slept in when they arrived and he had wanted a new set. The family must have taken them or had the others being washing somewhere. In fact, they hadn't found much of anything worth looting in the house without tearing out the floorboards and ripping down the walls. He would have put a weeks wages that the rest of the sheets had been easy to store and had been taken with the family or a servant looking to profit from their sale. Captain Briggs would have to sleep in the dirty sheets or find a different bed.

Henry moved into the suite the men from his tank had been using and spent the remainder of the night holding court in his new palace. More card games were played, runners sent out with a handful of instructions to the men, collecting the names of men, willing and experienced enough to over see work gangs from the 234th and wondering which of his Lieutenants might be a good replacement, if some ork did manage to kill him. Regias was a good fellow but he was a bit of a rabble rouser from back home and there was a reason he lead the scouts and not a proper tank platoon. Telemachus was also a good fellow, was more then stable for a hellhound commander but was more then a bit too zealous. Zeal in measured douses was good for a soldier and was even better when overflowing from a priest or commissar but in an officer? Might be a bit too alienating.

When the morning game, the 129th was already awake (for the most part) as the 234th rose from their blankets with shouts. It was part of the instructions their captain had issued the night before. The tankers didn't come with anything meant for digging, other then small folding spades for latrine pits, one per tank. They would need to get the shovels and what not the townspeople had left behind before the infantry did. Which meant getting up with the false dawn, to scour sheds and houses for the tools. They then had the time to make and enjoy breakfast, while the girls got started on the trenches. Or at least most of them had, the supervisors had been allowed to sleep and moved out to watch over and helped with the trenches.

Once the trenches were outlined, based on where the women were working, the men went to work. They were going to be building bunkers, half just slots dug into the ground and half made with bags filled with earth. Now if they just dug down until only the turret was above the ground, it would provide more protection for the tank or it would also keep them from employing hull or sponson mounted weapons. With the bags, they could build firing ports for those weapons.

Henry's jacket flapped around his back, as he sat on top of the Emperor’s Fury's turret, while it rumbled forwards, towards the outer trench.