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Only War: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment

Only War: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment

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A War Epic based in the realm of Warhammer 40k. Follow the tales of the squads of the 501st Hendrisi as they attempt to survive and serve the Emperor across multiple battlefields.

3,219 readers have visited Only War: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment since The 275th created it.

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

warhammer 40k

Introduction

In the 41st Millenium, Mankind is beset by War.


The Imperium of Man stretches across the stars, bloated by thousands of years of conquest, and crippled from within and without.

Deadly bands of innumerable Orks plague worlds across space, looting, pillaging, and destroying all in their wake.

Enigmatic and cunning Eldar make precision strikes against Imperial worlds for their own unknowable designs.

The horrifying Tyranid Hive-Fleets, from beyond the known Galaxy, descend upon and consume entire worlds with no purpose but to feed.

Chief among the enemies of Man are the legions of Chaos; Seeding worlds with foul purpose and turning man against itself.


Forming the front line against the myriad threats that threaten to ruin Imperial life within the galaxy are the Imperial Guard; numbering in the trillions of regiments, each with thousands of soldiers, armed with potent weaponry and with the full support of the Imperium, these soldiers face every threat against the Imperium with stoic faith.



In Only War you will not be one mere soldier facing the innumerable enemies of Man alone; instead, you will be among many, forming a squad that is only one of hundreds that form up the Regiment as a whole. Your squad will fight alongside the mighty war machines of the Adeptus Mechanicus, charge into the fray with Imperial Clerics, and be supported by the arcane ministrations of Sanctioned Psykers.

Your enemies will be strong, fast, cunning, and endless. You will die. But in your death you will find solace in the light of the God Emperor, and know that your Regiment will carry on.





Here will be chronicled the story of the 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment; called Death Jumpers or Drop Troops, such regiments are rare and often considered mad by their compatriots from other Regiments. After all, what sane mind would willingly jump from a speeding aircraft, into hostile fire, with naught but their arms and armor, comrades, and a grav-chute to fight the enemies of man?


This will be a character-driven story with a focus on the soldiers and support elements of the 501st Imperial Guard Regiment. One amongst untold billions, each man and woman will have a part to play; even if it is short lived.

[Placeholder regiment insignia]

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Toggle Rules

1. This Roleplay is based in the established lore of Warhammer 40k. As such there are certain things that must be observed; The basics being adherence to the "Imperial Cult" and the like.

2. Characters made for this roleplay will follow specific distinctions; your capabilities will be limited to what would be expected of your specialization. Supernatural abilities, out-of-character knowledge, and other such things will not be allowed.

3. Character death can and will happen. In most cases I will not be 'forcing' such things to happen, but there may be times where something catastrophic occurs, either by my direction or simply by the flow of the story. As such multiple characters are encouraged, and the resulting deaths should not be contested unless a very good case can be made (i.e surviving a building collapse and hoping to be found in a pile of rubble.)

4. While this Roleplay is based on Warhammer 40k and will feature mostly existing situations (Orks, Tyranids, Chaos, etc.) there will be lots of 'new' content, namely a custom-built sub-sector and potentially some other Xenos species that are minor enough to not be considered a major threat by the Imperium as a whole.

Browse All » 3 Settings to roleplay in

Reike Expanse

Reike Expanse by The 275th

Sub-Sector Reike, one of many located within the Imperium of Man.

Planet Arawath

Planet Arawath by The 275th

Planet Arawath is a mining world within the Reike Expanse that has been under Ork assault for three years. Local regiments of the 319th Imperial Legionnaires, 420th Cannabisian Regiment, and 19th Reiker Defense Force are all engaged.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 10 authors

Setting

1 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment
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Planet Arawatha
High Orbit
1300 (est.) Terran Standard Time
3221 Arawathan Time



Planet Arawath, a red-gray orb of industry and death, not unlike many Imperial worlds in the sector. Hovering over the planet was a small fleet of Imperial Warships. Every once in a while, another wave of dropships would deploy, a ship would leave or enter orbit, or occasionally a series of barrages against the planet surface would begin.

Tearing a hole in the very fabric of space was another series of Imperial warships. Bearing the markings of the 501st, and the emblem of Hendris, it was easy to guess who the ships likely belonged to.


In the docking holds of the ships were arrayed the thousands of soldiers that made up the Regiment itself; standing in formation, each prepared to enter their Valkyrie assault carriers, armed and ready with all of their equipment and survival gear.

The Regimental Commander, Colonel Sarvus Lucien, was busy pacing back and forth giving the regiment their briefing; he too was fully kitted out, wearing a full suit of Carapace armor and a linked grav-chute, as well as carrying an impressive looking bolt-pistol and power fist, both at the moment strapped to his waist.

"Planet Arawath is going to be like a trip home," he shouted to the collection of soldiers. "Volcanic ash, inhospitable conditions, outnumbered by Orks- like I say! Just like home." He did not wait for a response; the troops were disciplined enough around him to know even an encouraging shout was, at this juncture, not advisable.

"Our primary objective is going to be tracking down the Ork Warboss and eliminating him. Secondary objectives will entail destroying, or re-capturing, as many lost vehicle or supply depots as possible. Tertiary objectives will be to support any other Guard Regiments in the area after establishing a base of operations to make jumps from. And of course, as usual; the unspoken fourth objective is to kill as many of the damn Orks as possible!"

It was here that the troops shouted their approval; a hatred of Orks was deeply ingrained in Hendrisian society.
"We'll be in orbit and ready to drop within three hours. Individual platoons will have their orders by then. Dismissed!"



Artisan of War, Imperial Warship
3301 Arawathan Time


Each Squad was designated to meet up with their squad leader, any auxiliary attachments, and specialists in their barracks prior to the mission. Sergeant Quin Solar was standing by waiting for his squad to show up, speaking to some of the other men attached to his squad.

Most of the Regiment was single-sex Male, but the Munitorum hadn't been as specific with the new attachments.

"I don't care if you two see the hottest piece of soldiery this side of Holy Blasted Terra, if I catch either of you throwing eyes as another soldier I'll issue ten lashings as soon as I can find a Commissar," he was rumbling at them; he was a veteran of more than just the 501st conflicts, and the two green soldiers he was talking to held him with fear and reverence. They both nodded shakily, then saluted. "Yes Sir, Sergeant Solar."

The setting changes from Planet Arawath to Warhammer 40k

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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"And I'll give you another ten." The least liked woman on the ship walked into the room, the coat tails of her Commissariat garb flowing behind her despite its weight, testament to the determined and impatient way she walked. She drew her coat back to rest her hands on her hips. "With your blessing, of course." She nodded her head in a disingenuous ascension of authority. "Sergeant." She then nodded, pulled her hat off, ran a hand through rough, self-cut hair, and returned it.
Cassandra Rascal walked past the Sergeant to her bunk and pulled her footlocker open. She retrieved a lariat (well, she called it one; in actuality it was a long, nine-headed whip) and closed it again. She returned with it prominently fastened to her belt, opposite her peculiar sidearm. "What's the slapjaw this time?"

Simon Yates didn't elect such a dramatic entrance. He entered dressed in his robes, and if it weren't for the flamer he had been cleaning and praying over a few minutes earlier looked more like he was on his homeworld than mentally and spiritually preparing himself for fighting on a Deathworld. "Good morning, Sergeant Solar." He didn't actually know what time it was, and had never decided if the concept of "morning" was actually meaningful offworld, but it was a nice greeting. "And good morning, comrades." He nodded to the untested soldiers. He felt their nervousness without meeting their eyes. "Today you find your places in the Empire. It'll be fun." He hadn't been made of aware of how insane calling war "fun" or "not a big deal" or "a great way to spend an afternoon" made him appear, to greens or veterans. "And an especially good morning to you, Commissar."
Cassandra bit her tongue; he was almost painful not rolling her eyes every time she encountered the Deacon within the regiment. "Likewise."

Setting

4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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Bottles hurtled himself out the door, followed by a wrench, the rest of the toolbox, and half a servitor. A couple nuts popped off his Flak armor. Keeping his speed up, he sprinted past Sergeant Solar, a couple greenies, and a Commissar by the looks of it. His short black hair and angular face were covered in sweat. There was a grease mark on his face in the form of a hand.

Curses waterfalled out of Grim as he stomped through the door and stooped to grab the wrench. โ€œYou touch it again and I swear by the Emperor they wonโ€™t find your body.โ€

Bottles slowed to a jog, and moved for cover behind the Sergeant. โ€œYou have got to be clearer on what I should, and shouldnโ€™t touch.โ€

Grim sighed, and brushed off his red cloak. The metal all over his body whirred and clicked before settling. โ€œHereโ€™s a hint, if the Gun is pointed at you, stop touching.โ€ The Mechadendrite on his back settled onto his shoulder and he patted it.

Bottles huffed and picked up the servitor. It beeped angrily at him. He scowled back at it and rubbed his cheek.

Grim walked over to the Sergeant and looked at the green recruits. The metal covering his arms and legs were covered in grease, oil, and several other substances. The pack on his back didnโ€™t seem to weigh him down at all, and the Lasgun on his left shoulder almost seemed to have a mind of its own, as it seemed to be looking at everyone present. A respirator hung off his neck at chest level, and several tendrils from his pack were cleaning (or attempting to clean) the grease off his various surfaces. โ€œSo where we are dropping?โ€

The setting changes from Warhammer 40k to Planet Arawath

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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Sergeant Solar turned to look at the Commissar as she drew their attention. He smirked; or rather, masked his grimace with one. He was at once pleased that they had a Commissar attached to the squad- due only to the number of new blood they were going to have- and horrified at who it was. Cassandra Rascal. While not the most infamous person known to the Regiment, the Sergeant was well enough in the know to understand certain quirks of her personality.

Nevertheless he did not let any fear or revulsion show. "Commissar," he said in greeting, flashing a brief Aquila salute. The two greens next to him paled and saluted as well, more out of fear of punishment than actual respect.

"At the moment we're holding for the rest of the Squad. So far it's just you and Trooper Jorn, and Trooper Darrien." He gestured to the two greens, who did not react; drills had taken over and, despite the casual setting of the Barracks, they would not move until given the order.

Quin was interrupted by the Priest entering, pleasant as could be. "Father Yates," he offered, bowing his head slightly in reverence. They had met previously, briefly, due in part to the Sergeant wishing to pray in the ship's chapel before the mission briefing. Jorn and Darrien did not respond to the greeting.

"I see we'll be quite well equipped to handle anything these damned Orks can throw at us," Quin mused, deciding to ignore the looks between the Commissar and Priest.

The relative peace of the introductions was broken by a commotion from the nearby storage chamber. The disarray of tools and a Trooper did not sit well with Quin, not by a long shot; and as Derek Pen ran past him, the Sergeant whipped out his arm and caught the runner by the scruff of his jacket.

"Trooper Pen," he growled, gesturing to the Commissar. "Such conduct in the face of an Officer is grounds for punishment under most circumstances." It was not an idle threat on his voice. He released him shortly thereafter, to allow him to pick up the Servitor torso.

He then pointed his free hand at the Techpriest. "And you, Techpriest. If I see you throwing parts all around our damn ship again, I will report you to your Magos."

With a disgruntled huff, Sergeant Solar crossed his arms and shrugged at the inquiry by Grim. "Somewhere. Augory scans haven't come back yet, so we'll get the telemetry of drop zones about half an hour before planet-fall."

The two Greens had yet to drop their salute, and likely would not for some time unless the Commissar was feeling merciful.

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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The Commissar, a hand resting on her hip and the other palm on her unusual bolt pistol, nodded to the two men. "As you were, troopers." As much as she would have preferred to introduce herself with a slew of unnecessary inspections and verbal reprimands about their stature, uniform cleanliness, and so forth, it wasn't good to make friends she might have to shoot. It didn't bother her at all that said strategy had failed to produce friends anyway. She had stopped to return the salute properly before getting her whip.
When the idiot and the enginseer came into the room, Rascal offered a look that was a combination of annoyance, displeasure, and impatience. "Trooper Pen!" She roared, speaking at the same time as the Sergeant, disregarding whatever he said. "Those tools are the property of the Empire and if you give cause for any to be thrown at you again I will personally see that you are tied, drawn, and their owner empty his toolbox without reserve. Trooper Godwinne, despite the immense pleasure seeing this idiot punished for disturbing you would bring me, there's a touchdown today and if I find he is anything less than combat-ready because he so much as stubbed a toe in his retreat you'll have something worse than Orks to deal with. And dammit, troopers, you drop your salutes already."
Simon stood by impassively. "A half-our before touchdown, Sergeant? Is command organizing the operation? That's not a terribly long time to plan a swift and total victory." Which would happen regardless, of course, he didn't have to add to his assessment. "And troopers, I'd appreciate if you tried to keep the grease out of my robes. While I'm glad to see you enjoying each other's company, tarnishing the good fabric of the Emperor himself should not be taken lightly."

The setting changes from Planet Arawath to Warhammer 40k

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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Artisan of War, Imperial Warship
Icarus Toroun

The subtle sound of boots hitting a metal floor became increasingly louder to the group of soldiers, officers and the like in the gathering room for pre-briefing of the drop missing. Coming down the hallway was a 6 foot tall man with tanned skin and short frost colored hair, matching color Imperial armor and enough combat scars to cover a painting in pain. The man was a legend in his Regiment, but a stranger in the company of these ruffians and adrenaline junkies. Compared to them he was a warrior poet, and a good one at that.

This man opened a steel bolted door and found himself in the strangest assortment of soldiers he had ever seen. Two greenhorns, or Squires as his regiment called them, a Commissar from the bad side of the galaxy, two mech-heads and a War-priest all stood around the commanding Sergeant of the squad he was assigned to. Stepping inside and closing the door, Icarus 'Pilgim' Toroun saluted Quin Solar and awaited to be at ease."Sergeant Icarus Toroun reporting for mission brief, Sir." After being put at ease by the Sergeant he then stepped over to the priest and bowed before him on one knee, kissing his hand and saying a prayer to the Emperor as he stood back straight up. He took a place behind the greenhorns and crossed his arms over each other and waited for the briefing to commence, or the rest of the squad to arrive before if there were any still trying to find their way into the brief room.

As Icarus waited for Solar to speak, the white armored soldier inspected each person closer to take in their detail. The two greenhorns were either going to die within the next few hours or become great soldiers to serve the Emperor. The two techpriests seemed to be scarred of the commissar and were probably caught goofing off just before Icarus had arrived. The two officers beside himself in the room were just as he had imagined, and they would more than likely prefer that he not be assigned to the squad. Too many officers in one place provided both a chink in the chain of command and a high priority target on the battlefield, but luckily Icarus knew his place in a squad and could usually find a way out of almost any jam they got into.

Setting

7 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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#, as written by Taunbon

The setting changes from Warhammer 40k to Planet Arawath

Setting

7 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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#, as written by Taunbon
Artisan of War, Imperial Warship

Her small hand tightly gripped the metal pole as she made her way down the dark hallways of the Artisan of War, walking slower then she would ever admit out loud, a metal tap echoing after each step as her staff clanked against the metal floor. During the briefing, she had done her best to make herself even smaller then she was, no mean feat, and unnoticeable to the gathered guardsmen, but now she was heading towards the squad that she was to be attached to. Her pack containing all her gear weighed heavily on her small frame even as she fought down the urge to rearrange her flak vest that kept trying to slip down her thin shoulders.

As a psyker, she had her own personal quarters, which was a rather fancy way of saying she had an empty metal room with a single, very uncomfortable bed, all to herself. It was for her safety as much as it was for everyone else's safety aboard the Warship since, from time to time, many psykers could suffer night terrors or attempts on their minds by denizens of the warp that had managed to slip through the ship's gellar field, so whenever it was time to deploy, she had to pack up her gear and take it to whatever squad would be 'graced' with her presence.

Bel stopped in the dark hall, turning her head to examine the engraved wall to her right. While she couldn't 'see' the planet, she could feel it. The raw psychic power of the greenskins like a beacon within the ocean, a sun shining its malevolent rays upon the ship. The second they had left warp transit, she had known what was waiting for them on the planet below, long before the briefing. No psyker could miss the potent psychic presence of a greenskin WAAAGH. She had not seen, nor heard, any of their crude spacecraft circling the planet, and she idly wondered if they had come aboard their 'Roks' or if it was the local feral ork population that had exploded out due to the lack of attention from the local PDF forces. Tugging her hood lower, she turned away from the wall and back towards the hall stretching out before her.





Making her way into the barracks, her staff still making its loud taps as the obnoxious eagle crouched on the top swayed back and forth, well over a foot above her cloaked head. Pausing in the door way, her sharp hazel eyes scanned the people in the room, and she had to admit, this was an... odd squad. Multiple NCOs, a techpriest, a few guardsmen, a commissar, that she had to look twice at to realize the large, imposing figure was a woman, and a.... Priest. Her grip on her staff tightened involuntarily as her eyes fell on the flamer he had in his arms, her ire doubling at her current situation.

Bel turned her eyes to the ground, lowered her shoulders and walked deeper into the room, moving to a corner to isolate herself from the others in the squad. She had little doubt they would bother speaking with her, her kind were, generally, not wanted until the fighting began and sometimes not even then. She reached into her sack and pulled out her dataslate and pretended to be looking something up to further discourage interaction with her, but she was listening to what they were saying even as she did her best to pretend she wasn't.

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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A man quickly made his way through the halls of the Artison Of Dawn. He was wearing a red bandana, flak vest, and combat pants which closely resembled the uniforms the Catachan Devils used, although recolored to fit the 501st Hendrisi Deadland colors. He was late for the assigned meeting time since being part of a more organized regiment, and the fact that he was still getting used to not getting killed by plants that can tear down structures alongside creatures that could tear a man apart.

Thankully he had gathered all his equipment before rushing down the halls or else he would be in deeper trouble, and to top it all they had a commissar with them. He was not sure if he was going to be executed right on the spot which would be a sad way to go, he had survived murderious plants that shot spikes that could turn you into a plant, plants that spewed poison, plants that created acidic sticky goo, survived creatures and he would go tell the emperor he died for being late for a small gathering.

He then made it to the room they where all supposed to gather to and got in formation, "Caccia Scinia reporting for duty commissar!" He then gave a salute but made sure to mask all signs of nervousness and to keep a straight face lest he upset the person that has the power to kill anyone that lacks resolve in battle.

The setting changes from Planet Arawath to Warhammer 40k

Setting

7 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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[b]A short being walks through the doors holding a map of the ship in his hand, dripping wet from his last high priority mission and a sniper strapped to his back tightly that was almost as big as him. He looks at everyone, his hood from his tan cloak was up and the lighting made it difficult to identify his face. He walks through the crowd of people to find a nice spot in front, then sets his sniper against the briefing table. He was so quiet that you wouldn't have noticed his presence if he didn't use the door.

Alex waited to be briefed on his mission until he realized he had his hood on and lowered it to reveal he was a ratling with his war paint design on his face. He then looked up at everyone as they paid attention to the officers and wondered what their stories were and how they got into this mess that he himself got into.

The setting changes from Warhammer 40k to Planet Arawath

Setting

6 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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The Commissar dropped her arms to her sides before Caccia arrived. She quickly returned his salute, if only to get everyone in the room to stop wasting time with the flumadiddle of regulation so their briefing could get underway.

The Battle-Priest was rather uncomfortable with the display Touron made. He was used to the mixed bag of reactions his robes caused, from awe to fear, but he felt wrong having someone honor him when he was only the voice of the Emperor. But rather than show his discomfort, Simon simply nodded and finished the prayer with him. "Good morning." He had failed to meet with the man personally, despite an acute interest.
Shortly thereafter, a renegade, a sniper, and their resident psyker entered the room. Simon, glad to leave the center of the room and any focus of attention, decided to introduce himself formally to Belva Clarette. The unfortunatecy of having been assigned to the 501st so recently was that he had hardly any time to actually meet his squad between transferring his equipment, giving sermons, and getting accustomed to the new ship.
Simon sat beside her. Under normal conditions he'd introduce himself and ask for permission, but they weren't civilians. "Good morning, Psyker." He nodded politely, flamer across his lap as casually as a sleeping poodle.

The Commissar preferred standing to sitting, and chose to do so while she waiting for their briefing. She crossed her arms, shifted her weight to one foot, and watched the occupants of the room without moving her eyes. While she didn't pay mind to it, it was easy to see she was the tallest in the squad by a whole foot. Her ankles at that particular moment hurt from hanging over the edge of her bed all night. "Is everyone here?"

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal Character Portrait: Alex
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Sergeant Solar looked around at the room; members from other squads were linking up with their own, and his group was quickly growing as well. Briefings must have all ended at about the same time, and everyone was rushing in. He elected to ignore the Priest's questions until he could give a proper briefing of his own; unlike the Commander, Quin did not like to repeat himself.

But what a bloody circus his squad was. He decided it best to let the Commissar do her job while he tried to bring the squad under a proper form of control. The first matter at hand was dealing with Icarus.

"Sergeant Toroun," he stated pleasantly, his voice rough with many years of shouting himself hoarse. "I reckon we should get it out of the way now; unless they plan on splitting us into two squads, I'll have you operating as my second in command." He didn't know much about Eccelasians, but he knew they were devout, zealous, and proud. Hopefully there wouldn't be any problems.

Following that he peered around at the rest. A Catachan trooper had joined them, as had a Ratling- trying not to be noticed he thought, and so maybe not an official attachment- and a bloody Psyker.

"Feth," he rumbled under his breath, using an adopted curse from another regiment. "Building us up like a damn Command squad or something." He focused his attention on the Psyker.

"Psyker," he began. "We're pleased to have you aboard. I don't suppose you've got an attache?" 'Pleased' may have been a strong word for it, but it would be good regardless. He nodded to the Priest sitting next to her, indicating he had finally acknowledged his inquiry and leaving it at that.

Then he looked to the Commissar. "I bloody well hope so. Still, units are still filtering in, so I'll wait a moment longer before I get us in formation for squad briefing."

So far he had a tally of eleven troops and specialists, counting himself. The liklihood of more was slim, but if there were he would absolutely be splitting the squad in two. Especially given how many specialists they'd been assigned.


For their part the two rookies had finally lowered their arms, and were now watching in awe at the veritable circus of strangers from other worlds filtering in. They had slowly made their way closer to the Commissar; not because they liked her or her position particularly, but she was the largest figure in the room and it comforted them to be near someone who would draw more attention.

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates
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#, as written by Taunbon
Artisan of War, Imperial Warship

So consumed in her effort to make herself look occupied to avoid conversation, she didn't notice someone sitting next to her until they spoke. Bel nearly jumped in surprise, not accustomed to having anyone sneak up on her, the last time that had happened a Callidus Assassin had temporarily joined their retinue. She was slipping, or far more out of her depth than she originally assumed. She had to fight the urge to pull her hood and hair down further to cover her face out of shame for her misstep as both her hands were full.

Bel lifted her head to find out who had interrupted her attempt at solitude when her eyes found the priest from before, the flamer sitting in his lap like some kind of monstrous pet. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked on the flame tarnished nozzle, already imagining the flames spewing forth to consume and devour all in their path, to lick and tear at her flesh once more. The dataslate in her hand shook and trembled as phantom pains shot through her disfigured left hand; her eyes still locked unto the infernal weapon, she managed to let out a small, "F-Father," as a pathetic way of greeting as she hoped the man would leave, sooner rather than later.

The call of Psyker snapped her out of her daze, snapping her head over towards the one that called her. Her sharp eyes fell on, what she assumed, to be the 'head' NCO of the squad. Attache? Her eyes narrowed as she understood the gist of his meaning, he was asking if she had a handler. Someone to hold the freak's leash. Her eyes hardened when he nodded at the priest, did he just assume the priest was her handler? Her grip on her staff tightened, her knuckles turning white as she fought down the rage that was building in her chest. As her rage built, she could hear the whispers crawling in the dark corners of her mind, telling her to unshackle herself, to let it out, to rend flesh from bone. The soft caress against the psychic barriers in her mind separating herself from the Great Ocean that sought to embrace her, but in truth, desired only to drag her into the dark depths.

Moving slowly to not draw any attention, she put her dataslate back into her bag as she let out a slow breath, reaching up with her free hand to grip the aquila hanging around her neck. The psy focus helping her to clear her mind and her soul. Turning on her heel, she walked away from the priest making sure not to move too fast so as to not give away her desire to put distance between herself and the flamer wielding priest as she sought a new corner to take solace in.

Setting

7 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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As the room grew unsettling for Alex, from the loud chatter and laughter. He closed his eyes to find his inner peace and once he closed off the noise, he felt the strange woman brush past her and felt her distress. He then looked around the room and saw them in their own groups of attachments, but he was still alone. He shook of the growing sorrow that was crawling to the surface and pushed it back down into its corner to wait patiently for his next mission.

He wasn't interested in introducing himself and be political, even in the presence of the other specialists around him and Sargent Solar and the commissar already knew him as shadow for his way of becoming undetected in a moments notice. His soaked cloak and cloths made him shiver slightly, but he tried his best to hide it from the bodies around him.

The setting changes from Planet Arawath to Reike Expanse

Setting

6 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal Character Portrait: Alex
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The setting changes from Reike Expanse to Planet Arawath

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8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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Grim watched as more soldiers filed in from different places and briefings. โ€˜Quite a ragtag squad. Glad I donโ€™t have to lead it.โ€™ He mused to himself. He stood behind Bottles, arms crossed, knowing his position made Derek nervous. He kept turning around to look at Grim from his position sitting on a box.

โ€œKeep giving me that look Bottles, and I will give you over to the Commissar.โ€ Bottles reluctantly resumed observing squad. He kept glancing between the female Psyker, and the Ratling. Grim could see the question forming on his lips and said, โ€œDonโ€™t bother.โ€

Derek spun around this time, โ€œYou donโ€™t-โ€œ

โ€œYes, I do. Drop it.โ€ Grim interrupted. Doing a quick once over, he saw that he was almost completely clean. Derek had wiped himself down and looked presentable as well, though he had missed a couple grease marks on his chest.

โ€œBelieve me, itโ€™s not worth the trouble and it shows your inexperience.โ€ Grim muttered to Derek.

โ€œBut sheโ€™s-โ€ Derek started. The las-gun on Grimโ€™s shoulder perked up, and Bottles swallowed the rest of his sentence.

โ€œYes, she is, but that isnโ€™t our problem at the moment. Besides, they wouldnโ€™t allow her unless Command thought she was fit for duty.โ€

Derek nodded, and turned back to the briefing. โ€œIf we get split into two squads-โ€œ

โ€œIโ€™d still be stuck with you.โ€ Extending the Mechadendrite, Grim be tinkered with it quickly before returning it to its position on his shoulder and re-crossed his arms.

โ€œDo you think she really shot that soldier?โ€ Derek said, indicating the Commissar as he and Grim saluted the sergeant.

Grim grinned, โ€œWhy donโ€™t you go ask her?โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not stupid.โ€ Derek huffed. He crossed his arms, unconsciously mirroring Grim.

Grim snorted, and put on a neutral face. โ€œAt least, not that much.โ€ Derek said.

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"Twice." The Commissar shot a daring look in Grim's and his idiot friend's direction. Her hearing had saved her life more than once, even before enlistment; one had to learn to hear shifting sand before a trapmouth got its meal. But most of the 501st was raised from a Deathworld; they knew the type that went with it.

When the pysker looked at Simon, he offered a smile. He nodded to her kindly and offered a friendly gesture before she rose and left him. His smile mutated into one of odd bemusement; most people enjoyed his company before they saw him in battle, striking down the evils that threatened his empire. Looks like I'm not making any friends today.
Simon felt bad for her, but was oblivious to how uncomfortable his armament made her. He assumed she was shy (which wasn't unheard of for their type); he failed-as he often did-to connect his flamer to her disfigurement, which he had paid no mind to. As she walked away, his eyes fell on Alex. He opened his mouth as if to offer a greeting, but now the room was filled and he felt it would fall on deaf (or at least occupied) ears. Instead he sat back, rolled his shoulders, let out a comfortable groan, and mentally browsed his rolodex of prayers and battle hymns. He found himself wishing his superior officers would allow him to bring bagpipes into combats. "Nothing says funeral oration like Amazing Grace played on a goat's stomach," he mumbled to himself.

The Commissar bristled at the second choir-boy being elected second-in-command over her. Well what the fuck does that make my job?! She didn't dare say anything, but her displeasure was obvious (though easily mistaken as anger at her subordinates whispering about her). "With all due respect, Sergeant Solar, I'd like to request in the future that I be consulted on force deployment. My experience with heretics and traitors of the Empire makes me more than prepared to handle Orks and my experience commanding at the platoon level more than qualifies me for half a squad." Her tone had no sense of argument in it; she spoke evenly despite her displeasure. "Not that I aim to challenge Pilgrim's own qualifications, Sergeant.
"I don't care who's ordering me, as long as they're directing the righteous in our glorious campaign against the evils of the universe," Simon chimed in, an almost sing-song quality of enthusiasm in his voice. "But Commissar Rascal I'd like to remind you of the age-old adage, 'the candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long.' I'm sure the good Sergeant has is own reasons to, er, trust my fellow Eccelasian."
Trust him to spurn his subordinates into the grave, Rascal thought to herself.

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal Character Portrait: Alex
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Icarus Toroun

As more of the squad members filed in and conversations continued in their wait, Icarus was more than surprised that Solar had chosen to make him the second in command for the squad. While the malcontent of his new regiment was more than noticeable, he supposed that even a Hendrisian would overlook differences for the good of the mission. It was no pride on his part to bow his head to Solar and accept the position, not that he had a choice in the matter, but as he expected another of the squad members chipped in their say of disapproval. It was of course the other NCO, the commissar woman, who showed displeasure at his appointment.

He turned his attention and ears to the other people in the room, listening in on their conversations. To distract his body from shifting around too much, he unclips his knife from its sheeth on his hip and inspects it. He begins grinding it against a metal plate sown into the armor on the back of his forearm to sharpen it and adds the unease of the scrapping sound to the room. He only stops sharpening the knife when Solar speaks up and begins the briefing. Just to make sure he gets the most out of the material he takes his communicator out of his left ear and lets it hang over his shoulder to make sure he is not interrupted by a surprise broadcast.

As he stood there, Icarus mentally compared each and every soldier and support unit in the room. He tried to figure out what the best strategy would be to best utilize all of their skills and experience into a combat situation. It was something he often did even in the midst of low stress combat so he would be better prepared to command or fight along side these soldiers when it would be needed most. It was also one of the reasons he had survived so long. For this particular lot, distraction and fire support would be one of the best plans against large packs of enemy orks, and he knew all too well the little green buggers loved to stick in large groups.

The setting changes from Planet Arawath to Warhammer 40k

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal Character Portrait: Alex
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'Well damn,' Quin thought to himself, watching the Psyker walk away without answering him. 'I should probably learn her name before addressing her.' He frowned at himself for his lack of tact, especially when dealing with someone who could obliterate them all at the drop of a hat.

He decided it wise to address the Commissar's concerns quickly as well, facing a similar powder-keg to the Psyker. "Of course, Commissar. We'll be certain to address your opinion of tactical situations, conditions permitting." Quin was hard-pressed to make sure he didn't sound condescending, or patronizing. He legitimately wanted her to know he appreciated her previous experience, even if he was terrified what that might entail for him if he ever disagreed. He was also careful to ensure that by saying we, Sergeant Toroun was accountable as well.

But for the moment he had been saved from further scrutiny by the mission orders. He could hear the other Sergeants and squad leaders beginning their briefings, and figured he was ready as well.

Ignoring the burble of his squad around him, Quin took a data-slate from his belt. Sure enough the orders were listed, as well as brief details of everyone in his squad.

"Alright Squad," Quin started, breaking his relative silence with a power on his tone. "I want everyone to form a line. Let me look at the rabble Command has seen fit to set at my disposal!" He threw his gaze around, waiting for everyone to get in line; with a quickness. Two Sergeants and a Commissar should instill a great deal of fear in a man, rookie or no.

Troopers Augustus Jorn and Kyrus Darrien had formed up in the line, same as the others; this seemed to be their element, doing as they were told, being in formation, and preparing to give their lives for the Emperor.

One could only hope they served that purpose well.


---------

"Let me begin by introducing myself to those unfamiliar with me. I am Sergeant Quin Solar, of Osprey Squad. The sole surviving member of said squad, as it happens." He grimaced, looking around at the group. "But today we're not fighting Tyranids, for which I am thankful, at least. Today we're fighting the most common and hated of enemies to the Imperium of Man; Orks."

He took a moment to browse his data-slate. "Standing with me is Commissar Cassandra Rascal. She'll be attached to our squad to ensure that we function cohesively as a team." He didn't feel the need to say what would happen if they failed to meet that requirement; even the most green recruit knew what a Commissar was meant to do in the face of failure.

Quin then gestured to Icarus, who would presumably be standing at the front 'end' of the line. "Sergeant Icarus Toroun," he continued, "Will be acting as official second in command in the event of my death, a necessity to split the squad into fireteams, or if Commissar Rascal sees fit."

"Belva Clarette," he said, looking around for the Psyker woman; hopefully finding her hovering somewhere behind the line, as befitting her function. "Is a Psyker. For those among you who don't know, she is to be protected as high-priority. Be mindful and treat her with care." He paused for a moment, ensuring he did not sound unsettled at the prospect. "Trooper Augustus Jorn, it will be your specific duty to ensure she remains alive and well," he said, pointing out the youthful-looking soldier. He flashed the Aquila in response, albeit without the full gusto he may have given a more appealing order.

"Father Simon Yates is our resident Priest." Quin was more or less deadpan with this delivery, having shifted to it directly from an order. "Trust and honour him and he will guide us with the Emperor's Light."

"Lastly we have the Techpriest, Lucretia Godwinne, who will be ensuring that our special equipment and any vehicles we find remain intact and properly functioning." He did not point out said Techpriest; he would be obvious enough, with his mechadendrite and significant augmentation.

Quin paused again, taking a moment to read from his data-slate. "That is all we have in the terms of specialists and commanders. The rest of the squad is filled out by Troopers Augustus Jorn, Kyrus Darrien, Derrek Pen, Alex Elashne, and Caccia Scinia." Quin's face twisted slightly in disappointment; the squad was over half specialists and commanders, after a fashion. He continued reading into the briefing, and eventually sighed.

"Now, on to the briefing," he carried on, scarcely allowing the troops time to think about breaking line.

"The 501st will be descending planet-side shortly. We will be dropping through the atmosphere with Valkyrie armoured transports, where we will be subject to acrid smoke from nearby volcanic activity, and possibly enemy anti-aircraft fire."

"From that point we will jump from our aircraft and begin descend via Grav-chute into a former mining colony. The area is expected to be under Orkish control, judging by the amount of modification to structures and geography that the area has undergone. Most of the 501st will be making ground-fall in or nearby to known Anti-Aircraft positions, in the hopes that they can be taken out. Anyone that fails to make their drop points, or finds them relocated or otherwise does not land in one, will be expected to hunt down and eliminate any fortified positions."

"After this point, the area will be considered under Imperial control and can be made into a temporary base of operations, from which further drop missions may take place."

Quin placed the data-slate back on his belt, and turned to open the footlocker at his personal bunk- similar to all the others, but in this case filled with his kit.

"The Grav-chute mentioned is this," he explains, taking a large device from the locker. Folded up, it was about the size of a Vox-pack, but after unfolding it and strapping himself to it, it was shown to be less bulky; a power unit with two 'wings', each with a low impulse grav thruster attached.

"These allow an un-assisted descent to be considerably less fatal. Aside from that, they'll allow a soldier to make slightly higher jumps. This planet is possessed of a higher than normal gravity, and so our landing is still probably going to hurt. Each of you will of course be issued one, and given a brief crash-course on proper use."

Next, he pulled a long cloak, and a skin-tight black suit out of his locker. The cloak at the moment was black; but a close eye would indicate that it shifted slightly to match the background of Sergeant Solar's grey-red uniform.

"This suit is a survival suit, and again each of you was issued one upon entering the 501st's care. This is what will allow us to survive the descent, and the volcanic landscape itself, with anything approaching comfort. It is in essence a temperature regulating measure, as well as a sweat reconstitution device. As with all of your kit, you are expected to treat it well, as it will save your life."

He placed the suit on his bunk, then flashed the cloak. "And this is a Chameleoline Cloak. The Techpriest could tell you more about how it works probably, but all I can tell you is exactly what it's good for; blending you into your surroundings."

Quin threw that on the bed as well, and then crossed his arms. "We have about an hour before we need to be on dropships. Get your kit and get properly suited up, and I'll be meeting you there."

He looked to the Commissar briefly, to ensure she did not have anything to add; and then to the Priest, in case he wanted to say anything inspiring- and lastly to the other Sergeant, seeing as he would be official second in command.

"Dismissed," Sergeant Solar declared, once he was certain there were no more words to say. If the grunts had anything they wanted from him, they could catch him as he made his way to the door.

The setting changes from Warhammer 40k to Planet Arawath

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Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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The Commissar hardly moved when the order to fall in was given. She managed to position herself to the side, angled so she could hear the Sergeant as well as stare down the line. It wasn't lost on her how it separated herself from the rest of the squad, and she was used to the tact Solar used to not only shift blame to the zealot with his specific use of "we" as well as mentally separate herself from the rest of the squad. So it's another us versus them issue. Splendid. It was better that way; it was her job to be feared, not accepted like one of the damn choir boys and their flowing robes and tapestries.
Rascal had her arms crossed tightly. She towered over the rest of the congregation, easily able to see everyone as Sergeant Solar pointed them out. She was already aware of the squad's composition, simple information about each member, and had compiled her own hierarchy of threats, starting with the Psyker. She looks like she's already been burnt half to death. Maybe I'll do her the kindness of drilling her head with something other than incendiary ammunition, she mused.

Simon fell into line easily along the rest of the soldiers without preference to who he stood by. He slung his flamer casually around his shoulder on a lanyard and let it turn around his leg as he stood at attention. He wasn't so well disciplined as the rest of the line that he didn't twist his head to look at each person in turn-or tried to.
"Is there a kink in your neck, trooper?" The Commissar asked tersely.
"No ma'am."
"You didn't sleep funny?"
"No ma'am."
"You aren't working the heebee-jeebees out?"
"No ma'am."
"Then stand at at-fucking-tention!"
The Cleric suppressed a smile as he straightened himself. He knew (or at least thought) the Commissar wasn't trying to single him out, an impression most soldiers got the first time they were chewed out by one; he was simply made an example to keep everyone else in line, a purpose he was happy to serve.
The Commissar looked at the Sergeant, unapologetically, waiting for him to continue.

Cassandra waited politely for the Sergeant to finish his speech. When he looked at her, she did opt to chime in: "Your Chameleoline will hide you from the enemy, but not from me. As soldiers of the Imperium of Man, we do not cower, and we do not hide. I expect you act that way."
When it was Simon's turn to speak, he smiled and turned to address as much of the room at one time as he could. "If all else fails: duck. As a defensive stratagem it's unreliable, but incredibly reassuring for a moment or two."
Neither the Commissar nor the Cleric had cause to question the strategy. They were dropping to secure a beachhead (of sorts) for further invasion. Neither had used grav shoots before, but Rascal was determined to master it and Simon was excited to try it. He nodded to the Sergeant, and when he was dismissed he left the line to change into his battle gear.
The Commissar's greatcoat was already prepared for the operation (she opted not for the clothing option; she preferred the comfort, status, and protection her great coat offered), but she needed to don the all-terrain clothing. Rather casually she slipped out of her uniform, changed her underclothes for the all-terrain survival variety, then pulled her boots, great coat, hat, and sash back on. "...so what the hell does the five-oh-first do for fun before deployment?"

The setting changes from Planet Arawath to Warhammer 40k

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Alex waited patiently to be dismissed, then ran out to check out his new chameleoline cloak. When he placed it on, it accidentally turned on and showed the door behind him as he looked through his cloak. He smiles brightly, then went to grab his sniper rifle, but realized he forgot it back in the briefing room. It was a rare event, so he didn't focus on it and went to the briefing room to find the pysker still in her corner as everyone has already left. Remembering the bad feeling she gave off when she brushed into him, but it wasn't his place in interfering with a high person. Grabbing his weapon, he turned back to her and saw how scared she was and so he sat down next to her, messing with his new cloak to turn it off.

"So, what's your name?" He asked, trying to break the silence of the briefing room.

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5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal Character Portrait: Alex
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#, as written by Taunbon
Bel watched the troops gather into a line, but she didn't move, staying in her corner leaning on her staff. The summons wasn't really for her, she wasn't 'one of the troops' and her standing in the line would imply more than she desired and would only serve to put off some of the other guard. Unlike many of the others, her position in the regiment could change at any time, her 'attachment' changing at a whim depending on where people thought her skills would best be of use, but she wasn't a guardswoman. Her position was much like that of the Commissars, just without the perks.

She watched Sergeant Solar start his briefing, bowing her head slightly to show she was listening when he called her name and pointed out to everyone, as if they didn't know, of her status. 'Treat her with care', or perhaps, 'do not shoot her' would have been preferable. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had almost shot her for displaying her abilities... usually around the local PDF forces when their presence had been needed. Her grip tightened once more on her staff as he gave her a handler. He gave her a handler. Not just anyone to watch her and 'keep her safe' but a green recruit. The boy was more likely to get her killed while she was keeping him alive than the other way around.

Bel opened her mouth to let Sergeant Solar know just how little she cared for the idea of a 'handler' especially one that was inexperienced when staying by the Commissar, well within boltpistol range, would be more then suitable when said Commissar started to tear into the priest for not standing at attention. Seeing the flamer carrying priest being reprimanded brought a small tug to the corner of her lips and her previous frustration and annoyance at being given a handler was momentarily shoved to the back of her mind to enjoy the rare spectacle.

The sergeant briefed them on their equipment, and it seemed the time to make her opinion known had left her while she was enjoying the spectacle. The news about having to done the 'suit' on almost all deployments was an unwelcome one, she had assumed she would only need it on worlds that required it, but luck, or fate, was not on her side. While she had never used a grav-chute before, she was not as worried as others would be in her situation. If the worst came, she would have to use her power to levitate and lower herself, safely, to the ground.

With that short explanation done, he made his leave. She wasn't sure where he had to go that was of so much importance. Most of her time was spent wandering the ship, staying in her room, or, when she was lucky, meeting with the Astropath for a halfway pleasant conversation. Movement caught her eye, and she turned her head, her eyes widening as the commissar started to disrobe and change in the middle of the room. Bel clutched the front of her robes hiding her burned flesh, instantly becoming uncomfortable with the situation. Whatever it was this unit 'did for fun' was none of her business.

But before she could step, yet another figure decided to try and talk to her. For a moment, her heart skipped fearing that she would have yet another encountering with the flamer toting priest, until she looked down and saw the ratling, the sub-human, from before asking her what her name was. Her eyes narrowed at the question. The sergeant had said her name, not moments ago, had he not been paying attention? Was he trying to trick her? Was this some sort of game or bet that the other troopers put him up to? No matter what it was, she was having none of it as she needed to change, and change in private, "Psyker," she said, giving her title as a name.

With that, she took her leave, her staff accompanying her footsteps as she headed back towards her room to change her clothes for the deployment.

The setting changes from Warhammer 40k to Planet Arawath

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Grim Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Bottles Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal Character Portrait: Alex
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Icarus Toroun

Icarus listened to the briefing on their next mission, taking in as much information as he could before they were dismissed. He expected the area they were dropping into would be hot with orks, but flying right on top of the anti-aircraft guns would be near suicide. Either way, it was not up to him. All he had to do was survive until he got to the surface and hopefully not get scattered around in the wind and separated from the rest of the squad.

As soon as they were dismissed Icarus left the room along with everyone else and went to his quarters in order to get ready for the drop. He knew what he needed, the under armor suit and the grav-chute and the rest of his equipment. Strapping his Las-gun onto his back and checking all his straps one last time, he was finally ready and headed for the hanger. It was not hard to ask around for which Valkyrie would be taking them down to the planet and stood outside the back end as he corrected a few errors the repair personnel had made. He would hate for something on the airship to go wrong before they even left orbit.

He waited for the rest of the squad to show up and in the meantime spoke to some of the other squads waiting next to nearby Valkyries and made idle chatter. He learned more about the Hendrisi regiment and their ideals, their history and of course how they felt about other regiments being added into their own. At the last subject they seemed uneasy since Icarus himself was from another squad, but eventually he convinced them to say their piece, which was of course a negative response to the other regiments. Laughing Icarus put them at ease with a joke about how he did not like the situation either. He thought that now the Hendrisians wouldn't be so silent around him.

As other members of his assigned squad started to arrive he moved back over to their Valkyrie and hung out around the back. "Form a line next to me, and wait for Sergeant Solar to arrive. You are at ease until then." He had to repeat this to each person who came in as they arrived until either the Commissar or Solar showed up. He did not wish to give out orders with Solar there, nor did he want the Commissar getting snappy with him.

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment Character Portrait: Belva Clarette Character Portrait: Father Yates Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
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The good Father Yates was afforded was his own quarters, though he would have been just as comfortable (if not more) sleeping and sharing a living space with the rest of the 501st, or at the very least the squad he would be guiding in the light of the Emperor.
Simon changed quickly, exchanging his robes for the all-terrain clothing and battle armor he would need. He ran brushes of various sizes down the barrel, through the heat-bleeding holes, and all the connecting nozzles and ports of his flamer. His laspistol received less nurturing attention but was similarly quickly cleaned and inspected before being stowed on his hip. He threw a good book, corners well folded and dogeared from multiple reads, as well as clothes and an extra tank for his flamer in his bag, which was thrown over his shoulder opposite the flamer. He left his room holding the strap of his bag in one hand and his staff in the other. Soon the words and symbols of the Imperium of Man would be affixed to her, inspiring courage in his men and fear in the enemy.

The Commissar watched the psyker, cleric, and the cleric wannabe leave while she changed in full view of the rest of the barracks. She didn't care what the grunts thought, half expecting them to gawk at the briefly nude woman (it wasn't the first time she'd been assigned to an all-male regiment, and testosterone-jacked deathworlders like herself tended to have negative reactions to the unexpected) but hoping to make it out of the barracks unaccosted.
Rascal stalked her way down the halls of the ship towards the hangar, running into Simon as he exited his room. "Father," she acknowledged flatly as she passed, not trying to strike any kind of conversation. She scowled when the holy man fell into step beside her. "Commissar Rascal." He offered her a smile. "You look good in your new duds."
She raised a brow. "That's a highly inappropriate observation of a commanding officer."
Simon chuckled. "I'm not making a pass at you. The black fire-retardant material poking past the collar of your uniform and the material of your laces reminds me of a librarian on Theatris. One day her printer caught fire, and ever since she replaced her boot laces with the same Darapat primary blend so she'd have something safe to stomp on it if it ever went up in smoke again. She wore the same shade of motled black a lot. She said she liked the color ever since she read a trilogy by an author named-"
"You really like to talk, don't you?"
"No. It's a ghastly slow and ineffective method of communication. Full of nuances no one really masters, and only ever understood by individuals who spend a life unable to find others with the same proclivity for pontification and poetry."
The Commissar didn't have a response to that (she wasn't entirely sure what the condescending erudite had said), but fortunately she didn't need one; they came to the psyker's door, where she stopped and waited for the nervous woman to shuffle out of. "You should get to the hangar, Deacon. I'm sure your squire boy is bored without you."
Simon opened his mouth to inform her he had no squire, but he understood what she meant. "Right. See you in formation, Commissar." He continued walking; the Commissar crossed her arms and waited for Belva.

Simon walked into the hangar. He stood on a catwalk, hands wrapped around the safety rail, leaning over, inspecting the dissaray of busy troops scrambling to prepare for the drop. Equipment was ferried past him; someone shouted at him to get out of the way until he stood and faced them; a young flight deck attendant nearly tripped over his clipboard and mumbled a quick "Sorry, father" before scurrying away. Membership in the Ecclesiarchy came with the benefit of deferred treatment, something Simon could appreciate (and occasionally take advantage of) but regretted when it caused the discomfort or interruption of someone's work. He turned away from the impressive view of all the aircraft and descended a stair case to the flight deck. He walked quickly, having no difficulty in identifying the Pilgrim's peculiar armor.
Simon quickly adjusted the litanies of his station. He made sure the cloth of his faith hanging over either of his shoulders and down his chest was straight and clean before approaching. As instructed, he fell into line. "...so how do these Emperor-granted grav-chutes work?"

View All »Arcs

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Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.

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Add Setting » 3 Settings for your players to play in

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While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!

Reike Expanse

Reike Expanse by The 275th

Sub-Sector Reike, one of many located within the Imperium of Man.

Planet Arawath

Planet Arawath by The 275th

Planet Arawath is a mining world within the Reike Expanse that has been under Ork assault for three years. Local regiments of the 319th Imperial Legionnaires, 420th Cannabisian Regiment, and 19th Reiker Defense Force are all engaged.

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Character Portrait: Commissar Rascal
50 sightings Commissar Rascal played by MayContainPlagiarism
"Let's see if I can fire all eight bolts before you turn around."
Character Portrait: Father Yates
45 sightings Father Yates played by MayContainPlagiarism
"For God-Emperor, State, and Victory!"
Character Portrait: Arin Sanders
8 sightings Arin Sanders played by MayContainPlagiarism

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View All » Add Character » 21 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Standard Kit & Classes
Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment
Character Portrait: Grim
Character Portrait: Bottles
Character Portrait: Alex
Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun
Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia
Character Portrait: Belva Clarette
Character Portrait: Endric Phoorstein
Character Portrait: Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly

Newest

Character Portrait: Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly
Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly

You like the arm huh.. well don't get too interested. It cost me more then you could ever know.

Character Portrait: Endric Phoorstein
Endric Phoorstein

Young, foolhardy and naive, but damned loyal hearted...

Character Portrait: Belva Clarette
Belva Clarette

The, relatively, sane Psyker

Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia
Caccia Scinia

"Tyranids are made for stomping on"

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun
Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun

"My will is as bright as the stars! The Emperor's Light is as bright as the eons!"

Character Portrait: Alex
Alex

There's always light that pierces the dark

Character Portrait: Bottles
Bottles

Operator

Character Portrait: Grim
Grim

Tech Priest Enginseer

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment
501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment

The primary background and general information of the regiment to which you're attached.

Character Portrait: Standard Kit & Classes
Standard Kit & Classes

Use this template to determine both the standard kit your soldiers will have, as well as the various specializations available.

Trending

Character Portrait: Alex
Alex

There's always light that pierces the dark

Character Portrait: Belva Clarette
Belva Clarette

The, relatively, sane Psyker

Character Portrait: Endric Phoorstein
Endric Phoorstein

Young, foolhardy and naive, but damned loyal hearted...

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun
Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun

"My will is as bright as the stars! The Emperor's Light is as bright as the eons!"

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment
501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment

The primary background and general information of the regiment to which you're attached.

Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia
Caccia Scinia

"Tyranids are made for stomping on"

Character Portrait: Standard Kit & Classes
Standard Kit & Classes

Use this template to determine both the standard kit your soldiers will have, as well as the various specializations available.

Character Portrait: Grim
Grim

Tech Priest Enginseer

Character Portrait: Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly
Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly

You like the arm huh.. well don't get too interested. It cost me more then you could ever know.

Character Portrait: Bottles
Bottles

Operator

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Bottles
Bottles

Operator

Character Portrait: Endric Phoorstein
Endric Phoorstein

Young, foolhardy and naive, but damned loyal hearted...

Character Portrait: 501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment
501st Hendrisi Deadland Regiment

The primary background and general information of the regiment to which you're attached.

Character Portrait: Belva Clarette
Belva Clarette

The, relatively, sane Psyker

Character Portrait: Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly
Arthur "Odd Ball" Hadly

You like the arm huh.. well don't get too interested. It cost me more then you could ever know.

Character Portrait: Caccia Scinia
Caccia Scinia

"Tyranids are made for stomping on"

Character Portrait: Alex
Alex

There's always light that pierces the dark

Character Portrait: Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun
Icarus "Pilgrim" Toroun

"My will is as bright as the stars! The Emperor's Light is as bright as the eons!"

Character Portrait: Grim
Grim

Tech Priest Enginseer

Character Portrait: Standard Kit & Classes
Standard Kit & Classes

Use this template to determine both the standard kit your soldiers will have, as well as the various specializations available.


View All » Places

Reike Expanse

Reike Expanse by The 275th

Sub-Sector Reike, one of many located within the Imperium of Man.

Planet Arawath

Planet Arawath by The 275th

Planet Arawath is a mining world within the Reike Expanse that has been under Ork assault for three years. Local regiments of the 319th Imperial Legionnaires, 420th Cannabisian Regiment, and 19th Reiker Defense Force are all engaged.

Planet Arawath

Planet Arawath is a mining world within the Reike Expanse that has been under Ork assault for three years. Local regiments of the 319th Imperial Legionnaires, 420th Cannabisian Regiment, and 19th Reiker Defense Force are all engaged.

Reike Expanse

Sub-Sector Reike, one of many located within the Imperium of Man.

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