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From the Ashes ((IG RP))`

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Vlayden, Feb 4, 2018.

  1. Vanestus Vanestus Subordinate

    As the announcement was being made Romanus found himself slouched back against a wall, still lightly injured from the last battle. Having gauze wrapped around his left forearm and a bandage plastered just above his left eye. Thinking back to that battle he could still remember what happened to his squadmates. They had been sent out to scout out enemy positions when they had encountered a squad of Kroot. Upon encountering them the squad had immediately engaged combat, cutting down several of their number before the scrimmage devolved into a brutal melee. They had eventually emerged victorious, but had taken heavy casualties in the process. With over half the squad out-of-action, either dead or injured including the sergeant, they had been forced to retreat before enemy reinforcements showed up.

    Coming out of his memories just as the speech was ending he heard the Platoon Commanders start calling out names for building the new squads. Standing up as his name was called Romanus walked over to where his squad was being assembled. Already he could see that they had mostly assembled with an Armageddonner, a Catachan, and even a Stormtrooper being there. Already having all of his equipment and personal effects on his person he walked up to the Sergeant he said,"Romanus Levielle, reporting for duty ma'am. I have just one question, do you know where the squad is being deployed to after we get off this rock?"
  2. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member


    The Cadian merely gave a raised brow at the question, before responding, "At your bunk if you get one, if that's what you mean - some specificity on the gear would help, you don' look anything more than a typical grunt, Private; as far as I know, none 'f us here are anything different, other than the... Scion, we were assigned, and our Commissar." She gave the two a look over, still curious as to the reason for their assignment. Still, she didn't poke too much at it, instead rubbing at her neck with her free hand and moving onwards towards the outside.

    "What kind of squad are we? We're an Infantry Squad; and we're going to damned well be shooting, maiming and otherwise cursing whatever happens to be between us and our orders, or what our orders tell us to do that to, Praetorian.. Zhara, was it? Just get your gear up and ready. Everyone, dismissed. If you have any business to tend to, then do so. We're getting off this damned graveyard today, if I can help it."

    Unfortunately, all that was given was a small shrug; she seemed as knowledgeable as they about where they were going.

    For the next two hours, it was mostly an uneventful time - what little that occured was that of companions and friends saying goodbye, old squadmates nodding to one another and awkwardly trying to merge along with their new ones.

    "DO NOT WAVER, fellow men and women of the Imperium! Brothers and sisters; weep not for the fallen!" Shouted one of the Priests, holding himself proudly upon a Chimera to be both seen and heard by all, "Instead, be joyous at their passing, for they have given their lives to the Imperium, and now sit alongside the Emperor of Mankind! In His shining light shall we forever step forward, never faltering; weep now, and allow such pains to strengthen you! Do not let your emotions weaken you, but strengthen you, for Humanity forevermore requires more of your skill! The Emperor Protects, children of the Imperium; today, we march forth to a new dawn!"

    At the least, it had raised some spirits, a few chuckles and nods going around, some throwing jokes and lighthearted 'insults' at one another. Already, a few rivalries and friendships were being made, and soon enough, men were being brought out towards the beach; up in the skies, one could see numerous Tetrarch Heavy Landers coming from the numerous ships up in space, along with two dozen valkyries. Still a ways off, but it was inevitable that their transports were to arrive now, destined to send them to their next warzone.


    Unsurprisingly, a Quartermaster's duty was never finished - one Death Korps lieutenant coming over to 780 and gave a curt nod, speaking briefly and bluntly within the mask.
    "Tu deine Pflicht; Hinterlassen Sie nichts Wertvolles zum Plündern." - it was obvious enough to him. A quartermaster must do as they should. "Bringen Sie, wenn möglich, Identifikations-Tags mit. Ansonsten nimm nur was du tragen kannst. Die Reliquien werden vor allem geschätzt."


    In the meantime, another Krieger had been summoned; his unit mostly demolished (in fact, it was a miracle many had survived at all in their zealous desire for martyrdom), and with no leaders in sight, it was a difficult time in trying to find some form of cohesion or goal to look to. Numerous sergeants, some Krieger 'companions' (or more accurately, familliar faces)) that he knew before merely shaking their head and speaking in their Krieger dialect, explaining that they were not of the same company anymore.
    Eventually one of the Platoon commanders had taken notice, walking over and seeing what the commotion was about.

    "You there! Death Korps! Why are you not with your unit? I swear, if I see another guardsman lollygagging and trying to avoid duties.." He took out a dataslate and brought it up, tapping at its symbols a few times. "Identification number, Krieger."

    OOC: basic resupply shall happen upon returning to the ship. This does NOT include getting new gear; merely an IC introduction towards getting back in fighting condition. Social interaction IS a must; you cannot gain friends nor allies if you sit around.
    If you wish to post of doing something, then a PM can be sent with the idea; how else are you to get someone who can let you 'borrow' a shiny new auspex?
  3. Keidivh Keidivh Well-Known Member

    Failure. Disgrace. Failure. Disgrace. These words had been running through Unit 7's head ever since he had awoke from unconsciousness amongst the mounds of his fellow Kriegers mutilated corpses along with plenty of dead Tau. When the tide was turning against the Imperial Guard and many regiments fell into full retreat, the 66th Line Korps stood the line with but a handful of other regiments. The heretical weaponry of the Tau ripped the regiment apart, but not once did they falter. Not once did they step back.

    Of course that wasn't enough for the Krieg. They wouldn't just sit back and be blown apart by blasphemous xenos. His watchmaster gave the order, and his squadron leapt out of the trenches. Bayonets fixed, the his kin charged head long into the Tau firing lines, nearly all of them being torn apart by the advanced weaponry. Nearly all. A handful of troops including himself reached the wretched aliens by the Emperor's divine guidance. Unit 7 felt what those in other regiments called pride. The first xeno he reached was gutted, his bayonet biting deep. Another had its throat slit, the Krieger wielding his bayonet with surprising aptitude. When his lasgun was knocked out of his hands, Unit 7 instinctively grabbed his trench spade, burying it deep into another Fire Warriors skull. The familiar roar of Imperial artillery reached the lineman's ear before a massive explosion sent him to the ground, and the world became consumed with black. For the briefest moment it seemed as if he had finally reached atonement.

    But what so many of his kin had been granted alluded him. By the time he had managed to limp back to Imperial lines, it was made only more clear how unlucky he had been. There were but a handful of Kriegers left, none of whom looked to have the markings of a senior officer. Shuffling up to them, Unit 7 stood upright despite his body's protests, offering a crisp salute. "This ones designation is Unit 7 of the 66th Line Korps, what is the designation of the nearest Watchmaster this one can report to?"

    His arrival was met with similar salutes, crisp, mechanical almost. Dozens of cold lenses stared back at him, the nearest provided an answer. It was less than satisfactory.

    "There are no Watchmasters Unit 7. All regiments of the Deatk Korps have been reduced to combat ineffectiveness. Due to this command has seen fit to disband all regiments, assigning troopers into regiments made of a myriad of old regiments." There was no inflection or warmth, neither was there sadness or disappointment in the troopers words. Only the facts."

    "This is... Unfortunate." Unit 7 would never question the orders of high command. Through their will were the Krieg directed to the holy field of war. Nevertheless, being assigned to a mixed regiment was less than ideal. They were weak, substandard. Where the Krieg stood, others fled. They weeped for their dead. Feared pain. Feared death. Unworthy of the epitaph of Imperial Guardsman. Were such a recruit found on Krieg, he would be flogged until he was broken or killed.

    Of course all things were the Emperor's will, and if this was the path He chose, Unti 7 would see it through.

    "You there! Death Korps! Why are you not with your unit? I swear, if I see another guardsman lollygagging and trying to avoid duties.." He took out a dataslate and brought it up, tapping at its symbols a few times. "Identification number, Krieger."

    Finally, structure! Turning about face, Unit 7 saluted the commander, holding his battered lasgun at his side. "Commander, this one is Unit 7. This one only recently awoke from unconsciousness and returned to Imperial lines. No assignment has been given as of yet, please rectify. This one seeks to be returned to the battle."

  4. Bossaroo bossaroo Well-Known Member

    Roy looked up at descending navy ships , massive shapes descending. Damn things reminded him of birds of carrion coming dow- . The sharp sound of leather glove on skin as he slapped himself out of giving his head a shake or two and then standing idle as his prothestics readjusted from the rampant shaking. He gave a light chuckle as he realized how postively mad he looked , standing in the middle of folks milling about hauling a missile launcher by himself , a missile rack with one strap over his shoulder shaking his head like a grox with a load of sand on its head.

    Taking a shaky breath he looked around to find something productive to do with himself in his spare time , finding a loader seemed important but squads had already been made and he just hoped he got one who wasnt a complete maniac, he gave a nearby krieger a side eyed look before shaking his head again . Enemity between other guardsmen was a great way to get himself killed. Making the Sign of the Aquila to the Priest he made his way over to the vehicles , the end of his missile launcher leaving a small furrowed trail behind him. Taking a look at one of the more Salvagable chimeras he set down his things in view so as not to get robbed , borrowed some seemingly abandonded rough set of tools and began getting to work trying to fix some damage on the treads

    Machines always made sense to him as a kid , they didnt deviate , they didnt lie or betray or get tired, they just did their jobs if you treated them nice. He thought in another life he may have gone off and become a cog boy all dressed in red. He smiled as he pried what looked like it used to be part of a fire warriors rifle from some of the gears. He knew Chimeras pretty well , growing up in Hive Tempestora they were always there , he worked on them in his youth like most folks in the hive , small hands reaching into small places. When he was chosen for the Legion he hoped to become a driver but no such luck on the other hand he spent alot of time tinkering with them, unjamming gears , giving them a nice polish , bufinh out the scratches and the like. He swore lightly and picked up the tool he had dropped after pinching his finger with a gear, nothing broken but it hurt.

    He waved to a few passing Steel Legionnaires , he didnt know them but with the respirators , great coats and helmets they all wore he could almost pretend it was Sarge or Alex passing by. Hefting his gear ontop of the chimera wasnt easy work but he wasnt letting it out of his sight and he thought there might be an issue with the engine instead of the treads. He nodded to one of the remaining Mordians thankful for those blue coats, covered the retreat for what was left of the regiment and he'd be damned if he didnt thank them for doing the Emperor's work. Pulling down his goggles and putting on his respirator he got to work on the engine with his borrowed tools , hoping to get another vehicle off this rock and with them to the next war-zone.
  5. Talvisota RuinaImperii Active Member

    A sharp salute. A nearly invisible nod of thanks. 780 is dismissed. There is work to do.

    For the next several hours the Quartermaster disappears, an entourage of meandering soldiers collected and following. Weapons. Flak. Grenades. Grenades and ammo are pried from cold, dead hands. The bonesaw is of great assistance. Occasionally, as is the entrenchment tool. Ruined chest plates and shoulder pads are peeled off of carrion. Arms and limbs are unearthed and sent for cleaning. Identity tags are dutifully collected. The bodies are marked in the mud. None must remain for the enemy. Collect, if possible. Destroy, if necessary. The Earth must be salted with the wrath of the Imperium and scorched by the God-Emperor’s flame.

    780 wanders. The Task demands an expedition further into the battleground. The follower's numbers wane and grow as individuals or pairs or trios are dispensed back with piles and mounds of gathered goods. Battered lasguns. Ruined armor. Sent upon the backs of war-weary mules to be handed to the next set of eager hands. The only legacy of the dead soldiers worth keeping. Some grenades stay. The canisters slide along a heavy bandolier that rattled against the metal ribcage of a Quartermaster’s attire. For the squad’s mission. To clear the path for the Emperor’s glory.

    780 would return to the group an ominous figure, battered trench coat smeared with patches of dark crimson and cold brown. A fellow Krieger (@Keidivh ). Pleasing. Strength in a cesspool of weakness. 780 comes to a neat stop before the other and offers a curt greeting.
    Maleth, bossaroo, Keidivh and 2 others like this.
  6. Keidivh Keidivh Well-Known Member

    As Unit 7 awaited a new assignment, his dull red eyes noticed another Kriegsman approaching. No, not just another of his kin. A quartermaster. This was possibly the closest Unit 7 had ever come to feeling relief. Quartermasters were well respected amongst the ranks of the Death Korps, as it fell to them to gather the supplies of the dead and dying. Nothing could be wasted when there were countless wars to wage in the name of the Emperor and His glorious vision for humanity. It hadn't escaped the notice of Unit 7 that other regiments lacked a dedicated trooper to carry out this sacred task. Weapons, armor, ammunition all left to rot. It was unacceptable. Disgraceful. How their commanders could allow such laxity was beyond Unit 7's comprehension.

    While some in other regiments would embrace their kin upon seeing them alive after such a horrific battle, such was not the way of the Krieg. Curt nods were exchanged between the two. That was the extent of warmth and camaraderie that was shared. "Quartermaster. This ones designation is Unit 7. This ones squadron has been granted atonement, lobe de Kaiser. This one however is left without a proper command unit. Have you been reassigned as of yet?"

    It would be preferable to be assigned with one such as this Kriegsman. Only his kin seemed to know how to act like true servants of the Emperor. Didn't fear pain nor death. Wasn't held back by petty sentiments. But whatever the Emperors will was, it would be followed.

  7. Maleth Maleth Subordinate

    With time passing being a particular spot to fulfil, Saven ended spent her time fighting off ennui and the unfortunate dividends of Psyker-hood by engaging in some training exercises to keep on top and hopefully avoid any glares over her antics during the battle, if anyone had cared to remember them. Not as if she could afford to just sit down and mope.

    While marksmanship was... An interesting tale, given that she could no longer just move her position to get a better shot on her target. Naturally, a few stifled laughs were had at her expense, even among her fellow Theronites. Moving onto hand-t0-hand training she did better there, Courtesy of having agility beyond human averages, and the reflexes to match. Just as a guardman who being cocky about his chances, tried to taunt her. Only for him to end up being beaten, the Hybrid's legs sweeping him off his own and making her foe turn very red in the cheek given how swiftly he had been defeated.

    But train all she wished, Saven couldn't do that forever. So once she was done with exercises, she instead went to grab some food, and ended up settling down to the Priest's speech. Well, supposedly the speech. Really, she was waiting for the time to get off the rock, and at least she might as well look at the social gatherings and see if anyone else there was like her, at least in terms of being the social outcasts, maybe make some introductions to said outcasts.
  8. Ancient ItsTime Preacher

    Aquillia couldn't think of doing much other than trying to acquire a new equipment for herself for her's was battered from the battle with the Tau forces, so she went ahead and did exactly that. Aquillia wasn't familiar with the stronghold, she wasn't garrisoned on the planet but was rather deployed as part of the reinforcements that came to the near-defeated Imperial Guard that poorly held off the Tau in the first few offensives.

    It was a few minutes of aimless wandering across the stronghold, the sight of guardsmen carrying corpses was common but it didn't turn Aquillia's stomach anymore, luckily Plasma wounds aren't as gory as getting blown apart by a railgun or getting torn apart by a Kroot. It wouldn't be long before Aquillia did reach the current quartermaster, he didn't resemble a Kriegsman, certainly wasn't the one from her new squad.

    "Emperor protects, Quartermaster. I come to ask for a new batch of Tempestus Scions equipment, armor mainly. I was also interested in requisitioning a light field vehicle for my squad. I believe each Scion can requisition such a vehicle for the purposes of fulfilling their tasks."
  9. Wata Wata Arkhona Vanguard

    Kiratai had not much else to do but resupply his gear and wait. The waiting wasn't his favourite part and socialising wasn't on top of his mind right now. Most of the idle time, he spent taking care of his mount, sharpening his sabre and making sure the hunting lance was in working order making the required requisitions if needed to the quartermasters.
  10. Gallows CupcaknHell Active Member

    Garrul used the opportunity of free time to take a nap, leaning back in his sentinel’s cockpit, feet crossed on the dashboard, finally getting some shut eye. He dreamt wonderful dreams of food not being made of his fallen comrades, but his subconscious realised that was a silly dream.

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