Don'y post it here...
Incidentally the entire regiment is Catachan apart from SP Alzter and the two Commissars.
Plastic will be responsible for the inter-mission jourbnal entries if you want his character to interact with yours send him a bio or something similar... also tell him because otherwise he'll be confused since you will likely send it before he reads this post.
private first class Nathaniel 'Nate' Damscus walked down the hall and remembered his earliest days on Catachan. He remembered arriving at the newly finished hive city, of Catachan Secundis, and noting that not a single deadly plant grew inside its walls. He remembered waking up the next day on his tenth story hab flat and nearly being throttled by a man-eating plant that had sprouted in the hall.
But that planet was behind him now. Though, in all honestly he did miss it: the morning snake stomp the chem clearing of his room and being lulled to sleep by the detonations of the barking toads in the forest while wearing a rebreather.
adjusting the hang of his lasgun he looked at the slip of paper the duty officer had given to him, it was simple directions to his platoon's sleep-block. When he finally arrived he had joined the large cluster of green troops at the door and crowded in with the rest of them when it was opened.
By the time he had joined the throng a commissar was barking out orders to the assemblage of gaurdmen.
"I'm not going to mince words." Said the commissar "my name is commissar Wasabi." "Now, you are going to be assigned cubicles, with five beds to each!"looking down at his data-slate, he added "Excepting gamma squad which will be, six men and their sergant, to each, owing to a lack of troops." "You will pick a bed, you will sleep in that bed, you will make friends, in that bed-wait, no." There was muffled laughter coming from the rank and file, as the commissar struggled to correct his rather embarrassing mistake. "um...ahh....continuing!" barked the black clad officer "You'r weapons and armor are in the foot lockers." wasabi said "The bedside tables are to be used for personal effects, that cannot be hung on walls."There was silence "well?! get to it!" the commissar almost hollered.
Also, as i mentioned earlier- can we not any more offworlders who decide to one day become a catachan, catachans arn't a fan of outsiders, they think them weaker- which they usually are. also, you will all be modelled as catachans
Also, as i mentioned earlier- can we not any more offworlders who decide to one day become a catachan, catachans arn't a fan of outsiders, they think them weaker- which they usually are. also, you will all be modelled as catachans
what about catachan receiving and giving offworld training? Maa is catachan born but is a teacher for a Cadian sniper school specializing in jungle and heavy forest warfare
Also, as i mentioned earlier- can we not any more offworlders who decide to one day become a catachan, catachans arn't a fan of outsiders, they think them weaker- which they usually are. also, you will all be modelled as catachans
i know that was just the earliest memories he had (he had moved from starport)
and purplefood yes there aren't any hive citys on catachan that was just a bit of fluff (besides that hive only lasted a few hours, by dinnertime it was indistinguishable from the jungle around it.
Walking to gamma squad’s hab block, he took stock of the build; the room they were occupying was a full three stories high, and each squad block was two stories high with storage on the top, and sleeping quarters at the bottom. Stepping inside Nate took a bed on the right wall near the door. Setting down his bag he peered around the room, the other troops that were in here:
Behind his cot was another co,t occupied by a trooper about his age and hight, wearing, what appeared to be a furry, vallhalan-style hat and carrying a backpack that looked like it could fit a chem-dog tank. Shifting his line of sight to the next cot, he saw a bedraggled looking solider with sergeant's stripes standing over 6 feet tall and an impressively developed physique, even for a catachan. Looking over to the far wall he watched as a trooper with a kukri, an immense machete like weapon on which the blade curved inward on an abrupt 45 degree angle, carefully paint the name 'Stumbo' on his bedstead.
On that same wall a trooper with the name 'Garm' stitched across his chest, collapsed on a bed and started snoring. on the wall opposite the door the vox-man set down his 'caster and began rummaging in his foot locker.
ineptus astartes wrote:Walking to gamma squad’s hab block, he took stock of the build; the room they were occupying was a full three stories high, and each squad block was two stories high with storage on the top, and sleeping quarters at the bottom. Stepping inside Nate took a bed on the right wall near the door. Setting down his bag he peered around the room, the other troops that were in here:
Behind his cot was another co,t occupied by a trooper about his age and hight, wearing, what appeared to be a furry, vallhalan-style hat and carrying a backpack that looked like it could fit a chem-dog tank. Shifting his line of sight to the next cot, he saw a bedraggled looking solider with sergeant's stripes standing over 6 feet tall and an impressively developed physique, even for a catachan. Looking over to the far wall he watched as a trooper with a kukri, an immense machete like weapon on which the blade curved inward on an abrupt 45 degree angle, carefully paint the name 'Stumbo' on his bedstead.
On that same wall a trooper with the name 'Garm' stitched across his chest, collapsed on a bed and started snoring. on the wall opposite the door the vox-man set down his 'caster and began rummaging in his foot locker.
nate turned to his own locker and opened it.
this is pretty awesome! I sometimes wonder what a catachan barracks looks like. "Hey inept come visit us snipers for some las training!'' -Maa
we had a rather succesful encounter with some tyranids last night, including our rather heroic lord commissar charging into a hive tyrant (with a few ogryns) and taking 2 wounds off of it and killing it.
and ofcourse, the emperors honour wiping out a carnifex and 4 warriors, including a prime. and the catachan bell wiping out a unit of warriors in a single shot. and platoon alpha squad 1 and 2 SWO's wiping out 14 genestealers. in a single shot.
also, we have rough riders back
and 2 hydras
the contents were simple, a lasgun a stubgun ten las-packs and flak amour. The only thing different, was that his footlocker contained an armband, with the red cross of the ordos hospitalars and a large medi-kit. Nate went wide eyed and picking up the armband he slipped it onto his arm.
Closing the footlocker Nate laid back on his bed, and closed his eyes.
“Hello?” Nate opened one eye.
“Yes?” he said.
The be-capped trooper was sitting on his bed looking at him “Hey”
Nate sat up “hi, who are you?”
“Russki” the solider replied
“Nathaniel Damascus, but…err, call me Nate”
Russki looked at the armband. “You the platoon medic?”
Nate glanced at the armband and grinned, “yeah, medicae was one of my courses in scholum.”
“I see, you ever shot a lasgun?” asked Russki.
“Nah used an auto-rifle a few times though.”
Russki smirked, “Yeah, me too, ‘course on catachan, you loose your breathing privileges if you don’t know how to shoot a gun.”
Nate nodded “No kidding.”
Russki removed his pistol and began cleaning it.
“Where you from?”
“Hell-town, you know, the ruins of catachan secundis, you?”
“The starport”
“Oh? I’ve been there a couple times.”
There was a sharp crackle over the intercom followed by commissar wasabi’s barking voice
“Gamma platoon, report to the firing range, three decks below. You’re working with the sniper cadre today, move out!”
Sure.
(it's just always irked me that the guard never had medics on a platoon level so i figured they just dot make stats for them. and this would only be in the cases of medium wounds [wounds that don't show up in game] of to stabilize them till they get to the company medic.
i have decided to not kill you guys off. i know this is a strange decision but 1/ i have grown rather fond of you and 2./ it is a tonne of work, instead we shall assume you all have a limitless supply of siblings or something
hlaine.larkin wrote:we had a rather succesful encounter with some tyranids last night, including our rather heroic lord commissar charging into a hive tyrant (with a few ogryns) and taking 2 wounds off of it and killing it.
and ofcourse, the emperors honour wiping out a carnifex and 4 warriors, including a prime. and the catachan bell wiping out a unit of warriors in a single shot. and platoon alpha squad 1 and 2 SWO's wiping out 14 genestealers. in a single shot.
also, we have rough riders back
and 2 hydras
Commander Seric: Good job crew, and I think this proves the merits of staying away from the enemy and firing from a distance once again, Sigmund. ( also, how many kill points is a MC in the tank league?)
I am honoured that my old cap has become an icon of the 222nd. I only hope my new hat's legacy will be as great as the old one.
Well fought against the Tyranid threat... men. *Glances at JKB briefly* You faced down a hungering detachment of tyranid monstrosities with all the steely resolve and iron will usually only reserved for Astartes companies. It was stirring.
And Wolfshead, for firing your laspistol out of the viewport of the Wrath and blasting the insidious genestealer that outflanked me, I've decided to remove an entire page of disciplinary charges from your records. Now you're down to... *flips through a dataslate* Fourty-three pages of disciplinary charges.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an investigation to carry out.
On an additional note, It's true that catachan regiments have an infamous distrust of outsiders. When I first arrived in our regiment's camp, I narrowly escaped three separate "accidents" on the brief walk to the Marshall's office.
If a graduate of the Schola Progenium barely survived his first night with a Catachan unit, I shudder to think what would happen to your average trooper from off-world.
hey i was wondering when i was going to be put on the list i applied to be a loader. if i can get any help that would be great. also love the work your doing with this keep up the good work
metalhead wrote:hey i was wondering when i was going to be put on the list i applied to be a loader. if i can get any help that would be great. also love the work your doing with this keep up the good work
i do apologise, i keep seeing your message and then getting distracted now! what was your troopers name and i will do it now
Dr_Wasabi wrote:On an additional note, It's true that catachan regiments have an infamous distrust of outsiders. When I first arrived in our regiment's camp, I narrowly escaped three separate "accidents" on the brief walk to the Marshall's office.
If a graduate of the Schola Progenium barely survived his first night with a Catachan unit, I shudder to think what would happen to your average trooper from off-world.
I remember you dodging what looked like a thousand poisonous spines off of some unsavory critter.
The boys got pretty creative with these attempts at fragging.
You survived, i think thats enough. it's not we dislike commissars, we just think rthey should have the same experiences as every catachan. we only try to poison you to try and help you survive
thats the idea, your normal trooper has 17 years standard to live on catachan before he signs up, is he gonna respect someone who hasn't been through the same?
With all due respect, Marshall, I wouldn't expect them to.
However, thankfully before I began my training with the Commissariat, I served for fifteen years as a Stormtrooper, and then followed that with five years of training as a Junior Commissar on live battlefields, so I've had plenty of experience with "hardship".
All of that failed to prepare me for the family of barking toads under my bunk, though. That was a real adrenaline rush.
Kinda a mix of things. They got bored and spines for deadly, deadly, DEADLY, DO NOT fething TOUCH THIS BIT IT WILL KILL YOU DAMN IT; type creatures is expensive.
hlaine.larkin wrote:we had a rather succesful encounter with some tyranids last night, including our rather heroic lord commissar charging into a hive tyrant (with a few ogryns) and taking 2 wounds off of it and killing it.
and ofcourse, the emperors honour wiping out a carnifex and 4 warriors, including a prime. and the catachan bell wiping out a unit of warriors in a single shot. and platoon alpha squad 1 and 2 SWO's wiping out 14 genestealers. in a single shot.
also, we have rough riders back
and 2 hydras
Commander Seric: Good job crew, and I think this proves the merits of staying away from the enemy and firing from a distance once again, Sigmund. ( also, how many kill points is a MC in the tank league?)
I have returned from the infirmary after clawing my eyes into temporary blindness when i was confronted with that image that we shall not name or speak of.
Nate checked the load on his lasrifle and confirmed that it was fully operational, sighting down the iron sights he lined up the target downrange.
The target was a human torso and head, factory stamped, molded out of ballistics gel. Nate noted with some amusement that the word ‘heretic’ had been quickly scrawled on all of the bases. And that the target that was upon Nate’s base it was misspelled as ‘heretick’.
As the range was somewhat close to the genetoreum of the
Sanctus Mauve, the droning of the colossal engines steering them through the warp, could be heard loud and clear under commissar wasabi’s stentorian voice.
“ Check the load, and make sure the casing isn’t cracked! I don’t want any guardsmen flambés!” “All SWO’s will ues their las-pistols, one marksman to every three troops!”
Nate, Russki and a soldier with the name ‘J.P Jenkins’ stitched to his left breast-pocket lined up in a firing line, as a sniper by the name of ‘Maa’ (according to his dog-tags) approached.
“So.” Said the marksman “I’m gonna train you whiteshields how to shoot a lasrifle, but first we will recite the guardsman’s creed, repeat after me.”
Maa cleared his throat. And held his rifle so that the Aquila was facing the ceiling. “This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy, who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will.
My rifle and myself know that what counts in this endless war is not the charges we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit.
My rifle has a machine spirit, much as I have a soul, and it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes and my heart against damage. I will keep my rifle clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will.
Before the Emperor, I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are the defenders of my race. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life.
So be it, until victory is the Imperium’s and there is no enemy, but peace!”
It took several tries but the assembled guardsmen managed to get it right.
Maa jestuerd downrange at the ‘heretic’ and began to speak.
“Everyone loaded? Good, now see that bust down there?”
the three troopers made noises in the general area of yesness
“Imagine that it has a star of chaos tattooed onto its forehead, everyone got that?”
Nate nodded, Jenkins hastily stowed a bottle of amasec he had been chugging behind the sniper’s back and gave a sheepish nod, but Russki was glaring at his target like he would like to sprint downrange and beat it no a pulp wit his lasrifle.
ineptus astartes wrote:Nate checked the load on his lasrifle and confirmed that it was fully operational, sighting down the iron sights he lined up the target downrange.
The target was a human torso and head, factory stamped, molded out of ballistics gel. Nate noted with some amusement that the word ‘heretic’ had been quickly scrawled on all of the bases. And that the target that was upon Nate’s base it was misspelled as ‘heretick’.
As the range was somewhat close to the genetoreum of the
Sanctus Mauve, the droning of the colossal engines steering them through the warp, could be heard loud and clear under commissar wasabi’s stentorian voice.
“ Check the load, and make sure the casing isn’t cracked! I don’t want any guardsmen flambés!” “All SWO’s will ues their las-pistols, one marksman to every three troops!”
Nate, Russki and a soldier with the name ‘J.P Jenkins’ stitched to his left breast-pocket lined up in a firing line, as a sniper by the name of ‘Maa’ (according to his dog-tags) approached.
“So.” Said the marksman “I’m gonna train you whiteshields how to shoot a lasrifle, but first we will recite the guardsman’s creed, repeat after me.”
Maa cleared his throat. And held his rifle so that the Aquila was facing the ceiling. “This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy, who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will.
My rifle and myself know that what counts in this endless war is not the charges we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit.
My rifle has a machine spirit, much as I have a soul, and it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes and my heart against damage. I will keep my rifle clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will.
Before the Emperor, I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are the defenders of my race. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life.
So be it, until victory is the Imperium’s and there is no enemy, but peace!”
It took several tries but the assembled guardsmen managed to get it right.
Maa jestuerd downrange at the ‘heretic’ and began to speak.
“Everyone loaded? Good, now see that bust down there?”
the three troopers made noises in the general area of yesness
“Imagine that it has a star of chaos tattooed onto its forehead, everyone got that?”
Nate nodded, Jenkins hastily stowed a bottle of amasec he had been chugging behind the sniper’s back and gave a sheepish nod, but Russki was glaring at his target like he would like to sprint downrange and beat it no a pulp wit his lasrifle.
^ I feel like that's how Maa would be since he's was a sniper drill instructor! It's a great read and we should pool all the fluff together and make a army omnibus
we will hopefully have 3 stories- personal diaries from ineptus,current story from purple and a history from founding to purples from wasabi i will then compile them and make them avaliable for download
hlaine.larkin wrote:yeah, i figured he was calling them rookies.
we will hopefully have 3 stories- personal diaries from ineptus,current story from purple and a history from founding to purples from wasabi i will then compile them and make them avaliable for download
awww yeah! I'm try and write some army fluff as well!
Aww, but i wanted to write my own and make myself the greatest war ero there ever was and since i'm a sniper have my story ending with me putting a round through Abbadon's eye.
Heh-heh, you forgot to mention JKB standing back and snickering at the training.
Maa? I think you got your work cut out for you with this lot.
<sits down and puts feet up, enjoying the show>
Hey Hlaine - on the subject of a webpage, thought about keeping all the chitchat and original postings here, but the army list, engagements and fluff that's already been posted and accepted, re-posting it onto a wiki?
CadianCommander wrote:Heh-heh, you forgot to mention JKB standing back and snickering at the training.
Maa? I think you got your work cut out for you with this lot.
<sits down and puts feet up, enjoying the show>
Hey Hlaine - on the subject of a webpage, thought about keeping all the chitchat and original postings here, but the army list, engagements and fluff that's already been posted and accepted, re-posting it onto a wiki?
That way we/you can put up photos, too.
Don't worry JKB they're under capable hands! The emperor's faith and good drilling will keep these rooks heads on their shoulders -Maa
Absolutely, Private Maa, I have every faith that the emperor guides your training of the canon fod....new lads, and that you should be the one to do it. I have some..important business to attend.
<pulls out a Catachan homebrew and lights a lho stick and settles down>
CadianCommander wrote:Absolutely, Private Maa, I have every faith that the emperor guides your training of the canon fod....new lads, and that you should be the one to do it. I have some..important business to attend.
<pulls out a Catachan homebrew and lights a lho stick and settles down>
Indeed the emperor protects all that are faithful even a psyker such as myself ( I hope he continues to do so or else all manner of horrible things shall use me to escape the warp and you REALLY dont want that)
Sgt. Sigmund sat on the catwalk above the firing range looking down at the rookies going the motions of fire drill.
Taking a slug from the spoils of one of wolfhead's latest exploits, he half smiled, half grimaced at the memories of when he was as young, naive and gung ho as the troops down there...
"bah, they will learn... or die... or be left a shattered wreck..." he thought as he adjusted his augmentic hand...
A real hero of the Empire he was... more synthflesh and steel than flesh left... his nerves shot along time ago from too many near misses and the auge from too many corrupted worlds...
another slug of the 'sac...
Of all the friends that had stood so proud that day at the space port ready for transfer he was the only one left... or sort of...
taking another swig he squints down again... the dull zap-thud of laz-fire, the screams of the instructors almost made it sound like the aftermath of a firefight... only the screams of the injured and dieing missing...
not even really worth it making friends... he had nothing to say... and even if he did they would never understand...
He heaves his bulk up, empties the bottle and wonders off to the tank bay... The Wrath was waiting... his sanctuary...
I shall draw upon the strength of the Emperor to not make one of the hundreds of comments I could make, and save myself the Wrath of the missionaries, commissars, and moderators.
hi folks, I may not be able to post a personal experiances today, or I may. I just got back from being bored outta my skull for ten hours (And finishing two terry pratchett novels) while my dad was shooting some scenes in a nepali serial about how good it is to pay your taxe's...or somthing like that (showes just how messed up the country is...
anyways, now that my personal rant is done i can say that I will be tying in with purples canon storyline soon...
Perhaps a small thing: How about adding all the parts of the story in one message and then every time you add a part, you post it here?
It's easier to read, because now we have to search through all the pages...
I am really sorry for the shortness but as i said I just had about fifteen minutes to work with it
feel free to flame me
Here it is hope it's not too horrible (cringes)
Taking a deep breath Nate squeezed the trigger, SNAPSNAPSNAP came the high report of the lasgun. Smoke obscured the target for a moment and when it cleared Jenkins sniggered.
“We-ell” Jenkins remarked. “You certainly would have caused him emotional pain.”
“Oh?” grumbled Nate.
“Yeah, he is now…” Jenkins paused for dramatic effect “Her-tick!”
“Bah.” Muttered Nate in a good natured way. Turning, Nate noticed that Russki was still blasting his own now slagged target, with a practical, if somewhat unimaginative battlecry.
“Die heretic! Die heretic! Die heretic! Die heretic! Die heretic!”
Maa taped the infuriated trooper on the shoulder “umm I think he’s dead.”
Russki turned with an embarrassed look and mumbled “I hate heretics…”
“As do we all,” said the marksman. “You were all decent in your own way’s but you all had problems:” Maa pointed at Russki, “You did manage to ‘kill’ it but you expended 95 percent of your mag.”
Switching to Nate he said. “You fired a good three shot burst by you didn’t hit his chest or head, you shot his ‘E’.
Pointing at Jenkins he said, “you’re a decent shot, but you fired only one round.”
Maa smirked. “This is how it’s done.” Lifting his long-las he sighted down the barrel and sent three shots screaming downrange, blasting the head of Nate’s target apart in a shower of flesh colored gel and artificial blood.
The recruits jaws hit he floor and their eyes grew as big as soup plates, when a stern voice cut though their dumbstruckedness.
“All hands, prepare for emergency translation.”
Ineptus astartes: And now dear readers, we tie in With purple’s story
btw:marshal I was really annoyed when I saw the end of James cameron's Avatar
i mean humanity is the divine race right (at least according to the esccliarchy) and I wondered what would happen if a crusade fleet with a certain catchan regiment with a number between 221 and 223 arrived on pandora and mopped the floor with those space-cat-monkeys
after all pandora would be just like home to the catachans right?
IMPORTANT CHANGES
1-deaths gauntlet has been refitted as an antiaircraft tank, i hope this is okay.
2- a commander and driver position are open on a second hydra flak
3- a unit of rough riders added, with leadership from sgt chelkar.
Nate grabbed the railings in front of him and held on tight. As the ship shuddered violently Nate heard a clink and a cry of dismay. Turning his head he saw Jenkins chasing after an amasec bottle that had fallen out of his pocket.
“H-h-hold on too th-th-that r-r-ailing!” hollered Maa
As soon as the words left his mouth, the ship gave an almighty lurch and flung the occupants of the firing ranges across the room.
The world slowed down as Nate was flung through the air and saw the upside-down ghili-suited form of a sniper turning to look at him and recoil in surprise
“!”
SLAM!
Nate was laying on some sort of course material with leaves stuck to it, opening his eyes he noted the dog-tag three inches from his nose it read ‘JayneKateBob.’
Nate was puzzled ‘what kind of parents would name their son, ‘JayneKateBob?’
“Ahem” came higher than normal voice.
“Huh?” said Nate.
“Get off of me.”
Turning his head Nat beheld a glaring visage.
“Sorry sir, lost my footing” he said as Russki helped him up. “what was that lurch anyway?”
JKB regarded him coldly. “I have no idea” he said and walked off.
“Well he was friendly” muttered Russki.
“Yeah, I guess that’s what comes with big muscled guys.”
“What?” asked Russki.
Nate gestured in JKB’s direction. “Either he’s got huge muscle’s under that shirt or he's got huge man-boobs.”
Behind them there was a shout of triumph, as Jenkins found his amasec bottle, and hurried over.
“Hey what-” said Russki before Jenkins shoved an extra beer bottle at him.
“huh?” was all Nate could say before Jenkins handed him one as well.
“What’s all this?” asked Russki.
“contraband.” Hiccupped Jenkins happily while taking a swig.
Nate looked over at Russki, who shook his head furiously.
“And then I said to him...I…I…I forgot?” mumbled Jenkins as Nate and Russki guided him unsteadily towards the hab deck.
“Boy, muttered Russki, as he got a better grip on Jenkins’ left arm, “what did he have for lunch, bricks?”
“Maybe a space marine.” Grunted Nate as he dragged the all too heavy drunk back to the platoon hab.
Russki adjusted his grip on Jenkins’ shoulder again. “You know, I- what was that?”
“What was what?” asked Nate
“It sounded like… gunfire.”
Nate strained his hearing as they turned the corner “I don’t-AHHH!”
A small squad consisting of five ork ‘boyz’ was rooting through the platoon’s hab deck. Jenkins was dropped on the floor, as the other two troopers went for their las-rifles.
Nate sprayed a trio of las-bolts at the ork coming at him which was wielding a massive ‘choppa.’ the ork flew back howling as the bolts connected with it’s arm and blew bloody holes in it.
Russki managed to blast one’s chest plate off but the ork got up again, snarling.
Before it could do anything though, there was a loud rumbling, and the orks disappeared in spurts of blood and viscera.
Whipping his head around Nate saw Pfc. Bex rush in and chamber another autogun mag.
I am not going to be able to post a chapter tonight (then again I might) because I spent from 9:am (time I woke up) to 3:30 pm doing an ungodly amount of math then I had to Correct all my mistakes from 8:00 pm to 10:00 PM
also, i don't fight anymore, the warmaster forbids it. i served for 18 years as a commissar attatched to various regiment and have received the honorifica imperialis, for fighting off a horde of heretics in a holy chapel, but lost a leg in the process, so was retired to a desk job..
ineptus astartes wrote:all you have to do is request an appearance for your character and I'll add him in (provided his appearance doesn't conflict with purple's story)
JUst an extra note from me- on purples fluff, can people please stop asking him
a/ will i be in it (you wil get a special mention if he deems it neccasary or if you do something in a real battle well)
b/when it will be ready
The sounds of the las-fire on the range retreated as Sigmund weaved his way down the service tunnels on the way to the vehicle bays… it was quiet here, well almost quiet only the odd whisper of the ships machine spirit and the distant echo’s from more populated areas of the ship penetrated these all but abandoned corridors. He liked to come here in his off time because, just like the great jungles of home, he could alone here, the only interruptions coming from the odd servitor on some mindless errand… Why he had signed up again after being discharged with honours from the 151st Mech brigade he still couldn’t quite figure out…
He had been home a month when he saw the recruiting casts… Home? Strange that… he had spent every waking moment of his last 30 years griping and hoping and praying to get home and then when he finally got there he felt… alien. Out of place… all his friends gone, either posted feth knew where in another of the proud regiments or dead… only the young, and the very old left.
Buggrit if he was going to put his feet up and spend what was left of his life regaling everyone who would listen about what “When I was in the Guard...”
That left the young, hopeful, bragging hordes that would do anything to hear just that… and then run off tell everyone what a hero they were going to be… and that they will never come back looking like some Mad doc’s failed experiment with a stare that scared away the wildlife.
Yup glory and honour to the Emperor… The Guard you will make you a true man!
So Sigmund found he was drawn back the same place he had been trying to survive and get out of for 30 years… Hanging around the dives the off duty Guards went to, gone where the yearnings for the smell of Jungle; the sight of the morning mist burning off the canopy and the sounds of the screams of the myriad predators as they searched for their first meal of the day… he yearned for the stink of the Troop barges; the sting of home brewed ‘sac and the sight of the Warp as the Great Ships slid through to the Emperor knew where…
He turned off the tunnel heading for a view port… mebbe he could get Wolfhead to get some more brew… good kid that… hope he doesn’t die too soon.
Hey folks sorry about the shortness another ing long math day
My muse wouldn't sit still for not updating when I hadn't yesterday
so here it is.
tell me wat you think
(I could use reinforcement, [positive or negative] to get this writers block off my chest)
As Russki pulled Jenkins up, Nate walked over to Bex, who by now had loaded his autogun.
“What’s going on?” said Nate worriedly.
Bex checked the load and pulled back the slide before replying ,“Orks.”
“Oh feth!” screamed Russki staring at his lasgun’s power pack
“What?” inquired Nate.
Russki grimaced “Out of charge”
Bex handed the autogun to Russki. “Here”
“Thanks.”
Bex merely nodded and reaching behind his back, pulled out a massive knife twice as long as a catachan fang.
“What is that?” asked Jenkins
Bex Grinned “kukri.”
They managed to get to the armory with out any mishaps, aside from Jenkins tripping over a servitor.
When they got there they immediately began searching for weapons.
Nate found a heavy stubber and two ammo drums. Russki happily picked up a shotgun and a bag of grenades to compliment his auto-rifle. And bex settled for a big-caliber revolver to work in tandem with the kukuri.
Jenkins on the other hand came out with at least half a dozen weapons across his back, and a boltgun cradled in both arms. These combined with the most gak-eatingest grin Nate had ever seen made Jenkins look like a loony-bin escapee gone bad.
“You know…” remarked Nate “you’ll probably cause more damage to the ship, than any orks we come across?”
Jenkins grin turned evil “Yeah! Yeah! Ready to cause some collateral damage! Oorah!
“Oo-rah.” replied Nate slowly.
So... how was that?
the emperor protects... but it does no harm to double check
Unauthorised access to the munitorum without permission from an officer is widely considered grounds for a court martial.
Would be far wiser to claim that you "inherited" them, should inquisitors begin poking around. They generally won't be as appreciative that you were using them to defend our ship as a member of the Commissariat would be.
i'm willing to let it slide,tell them i had given permission and i will deal with the inquisitors... it's not jjst commissars who have problems in catachan regiments.
Ooh, it would be interesting to see just how long those Ordos prettyboys would last in a true Catachan encampment. I bet they'd be here thirty seconds before they ++TRANSMISSION REDACTED ON BEHALF OF THE ORDOS HERETICUS++
166-commander Arkanian:
you may have lost a leg sir, but your always welcome aboard the bell sir! I can personally assure you that the bell is the best command post you will ever ride in!
127 commander Arkanian:
that would be 127 as it were: kinda hard to spell stuff when I was never thought as a wee little lad. Daddy always said I shouldn't learn to spell things if its something I couldn't kill.
I have hopefully made it long enough not to be torn apart by a mob of angry dakkaites.
I didn't get started till three this after noon (It is 7:41 PM here)
because I have been (and still am) reading 'semper victoria' on fanfic.net (one of the few decent stories there)
Warning: this chapter's end will look incredibly bleak but never fear! there is still hope yet
(that and it is a game in Britain that decides our heroes' (plural) fate!)
As the troopers advanced down the hallway with a bent-legged shuffle that seemed vaguely insect like, Nate let his gaze sweep down hallways and corridor junctions as they passed them.
When they reached a tank service yard the size of a city block that was littered with junk, Bax raised a hand for them to stop.
“I can hear some sort of arguing going on in there.” Said Bax.
Russki flicked of his rifle's safety. “That means orks.” he said
"We-eel..." this was from Jenkins.
Bax turned to Nate “Nate?”
Looking up from the stubber Nate started
“Yeah?”
“Get up onto the third tier and give us some overwatch, the rest of you, come with me.”
Ok folks I am going to try to see how changing POVs works
Russki clambered over the wreckage noisily, wondering how many tanks there were out of commission. The possible answers did not help his mood. As he began to climb over a trackless chimera, Nate’s stubber began to bark. ‘What the hell?’ He thought and visually followed the machinegun’s line of sight from its 3rd story balcony to where it was pointed, several hundred yards away.
Lifting the scoped autogun to his shoulder he scanned the wreckage from atop the derelict tank. A cry rent the air "WAAAAAAAGGGHH!!!!!!!"
Between sixteen and 20 orks leaped up and sprayed fire into the derelicts with astounding inaccuracy. Nate’s heavy stubber opened up again and three of them tumbled back behind their makeshift barricade in pieces. The loud clapping of bax’s pistol combined with the dull thuds of Jenkins’ bolter soon joined the fray.
Taking a deep breath, Russki sighted an ork ‘runtherda’ that was howling at the diminutive Gretchin. Urging them to set up a pair of heavy bolters and a zzap cannon. Letting out said breath, Russki pulled the trigger. The first burst grazed the ork’s right ear and it’s head snapped up, searching for what had fired at it.
Seeing Russki, it let out a feral bellow, and raising its ‘slugga’ in one hand it began firing. The bullets connected with the half full gas tank below the soldier’s feet. Normally, inert projectiles would do nothing, but the ork had crammed several bolt rounds into the magazine too. Russki’s world went up in a pillar of noise and flame.
As Russki slammed into a sentinel walker that was missing its dashboard, his rifle flew out of his grip. Wildly grabbing the shotgun, the trooper stood up and charged forward while his hearing gradually returned. Arriving at the runtherd’s position he racked the mechanism, and leveled it at the xeno, and pulling the trigger. The weapon churned the green chest into a bloody hole with scraps of organs lining it and a few ribs sticking out at odd angles.
The ork, a surprised look on its face keeled over backwards. Russki was about to congratulate himself when several bullets slammed into his arm and chestplate respectively, sending him flying a good five meters.
As russki lay against a partially completed Leman Russ tank, he gasped for air desperately trying to fill his winded lungs He lay still as the zzap cannon fired, and Nate’s position was blown to pieces, as Jenkins was flung like a ragdoll from a granade at his feet, and as bax lopped off the head of a charging ork, only to be slammed in the face by the butt of a choppa, And crash to the ground. The last thing he heard was a low mechanical rumble, the sound of crunching metal, an explosion of onrushing air and an intense heat. Then all faded to blackness.
But... Then Russki cannot take Gretchin prisoner and keep them as pets? :(
Nor can he beat up one ork with another ork's dead body? :(
Nor can he dance upon the dead orks? :(
Nor can he feed Squigs to our Commissar? :(
loner wrote:But... Then he cannot take Gretchin prisoner and keep them as pets? :(
Nor can he beat up one ork with another ork's dead body? :(
Nor can he dance upon the dead orks? :(
Nor can he feed Squigs to our Commissar? :(
I sliced to the left and hit a tree don't worry its unconscious but alive.
There's pretty much no example of a Catachan flag that I could find after looking for a straight week or so, what I could tell from the Catachan flag bearer was the Cadian flag with a skull and laurels instead. So I used the Cadian design as a base, put in a skull with bowie knife and laurels instead of the Cadian Gate, and changed it to the 222nd's colours of Green and Purple.
go figur what? purple has always been my army colour, which is why i opened my paintbox with 2500 points to paint in 2 weeks and found copius amounts of purple,catachan green and flesh
I am sad to announce the passing of lord commissar von humps, he has, it would seem, has left us.
Therefore, Commissar Wasabi will hereby be promoted to the rank of Lord COmmissar, and is free to choose any willing trooper to receive commisarial training, due to need for one ASAP.
Good Luck my lord commissar!
(purple, if you want to fluff this whenever it's cool )
Marshall, It is with honour and dignity that I accept the new position. I'll make you proud, sir. As will my new, more formidable hat.
And due in equal parts to your eagerness to accept the duties and responsibilities of becoming a Commissar, your talent and leadership in the field, and to the vote of confidence from our respected Marshall, I hereby field induct you into the Commissariat as a Cadet Commissar. Report to my quarters at 0700 hours tomorrow for your training. This is a big decision, and the title is rarely proffered to those who have not been through the Schola.
I'm sure you'll do just fine. *Offers a knowing grin*
Oh, and before it slips my mind: On this very same day, it seems that the powers that be have ruled that a triple ration of amasec would be prudent, funny how things work out.
As of today's date, the list of ongoing investigations being undertaken by myself and some of the more senior members of the regiment are as follows:
1. The location of my most beloved poetry book.
2. The exact nature of Private Jaynekatebob's peculiar masculine habits
3. The graffiti that has been popping up all over camp that reads "Gamma blows, Alpha rules"
5. The graffiti that has been popping up all over camp that reads "Alpha's for wimps, Gamma for life."
6. The graffiti that has been popping up all over camp that reads "OI! BOTH YOU LOT QUIT YER BLATHERIN' AND JUST PROTECT MY BLOODY TANK." (Addendum: Resolved. Please see me in my office, Commander Sigmund.)
7. Exactly how Wolfshead has been able to break into the Cafetorium no matter how many security protocols are enforced and watchmen are posted around the perimeter.
8. Where exactly the papers for investigation #4 got to.
Anyone with information that may prove important to these investigations would find a very interested party in both myself, Marshall Larkin, and the new Cadet Commissar.
Opening his eyes Russki looked around, he was still lying on the leman Russ, but there was a small I.V connected to his wrist and a numb feeling in his left shoulder. said shoulder was also wrapped in badeages.
Looking up he saw Nate kneeling over a prone figure and wrapping it’s left leg in gauze before walking over, with a mug in each hand.
He looked at Russki.
“Well, well, well, Sleeping Beauty finally wakes. You look like hell.”
Russki opened his mouth.
“Uuggh…”
Nate raised an eyebrow. “That’s the morphine talking, try saying something intelligible”
“Whuurrgg…” replied Russki
“Brought you some recaf.” said Nate sitting down and laying back against an Earthshaker Cannon.
Russki stared blearily at the cup and reached out.
“Thank the throne ” he muttered, and gulped down the steaming liquid he was halfway through the cup when something struck, “Hey, I thought you were all dead!”
Nate grinned, “Nope, I’d cleared out to a different position by the time the balcony was hit, Jenkins got his leg filled with shrapnel but I managed to get most of that out, and Bax just got a broke nose.”
“What about the orks?” asked russki.
Nate looked up from his mug.
“Hellhounds fried em, they were with the snipers and some of Jenkins’ squad, which ironically, includes another Jenkins.”
“That even possible?”
“Hey, it’s a big galaxy… there’s only so many names.” Nate shot back
Altzer, sanctioned psyker strode purposefully though the melee in the main hanger, his mind fixed solely on one target. Even as he diverted primitive orkish minds from him he began to gather physic strength. Once he got in visual range of his target, the ork warboss. He channeled it all into the ork’s brain . with a dull krump and the howling of daemons in his mind, the ork’s head detonated.
Ineptus, Varl - finally got a chance to read the recent fluff, love them both!
...so Sigmund's a grumpy old, pink obsessed vet then?
132 Vet Sniper JKB: Lord Commissar, Sir, reporting, Sir. Err....what's peculiar about black jack and hookers?
And just because I can sew a flag doesn't isn't unmanly in the Guard. Any Guardsman worth their salt can sew.
(useless RL trivia: my senior sensei was a sub-mariner in his time and when he joined up as a lad in the Navy he made a small fortune by being one of the only boys that could sew a button or darn socks!)
(I can vouch for that fact. I was in the navy and made some good money cause I could fix buttons, tears, and sew on patches.)
Cadet Commisar Kracken - My Lord Commisar I eagerly await to help you on your investigations and as soon as I hear anything about your personel effects I shall let you know.
Just to put the flag and it's concept into perspective for people, the diagonal cross is hardly unusual and I used the Cadian banner as a basis for the design.....
...Pvt. Kaen humbly pointing out that green is the polar opposite of yellow, and that purple is a similar opposite of green, JKB. Inversing, ionizing, polarizing the colours, or whatever else it's called... Though I do submit myself for reprimand if I am right. Just sayin'
I would, sir, as always, of course, like to present that my part in the case of the flag, sir, was purely as providing a little bit of facts, sir, as opposed to any sort of complaints, dude sir. I prostrate myself in fron of thine most holy image, second only to our most beloved and most holy of lord, the Toilet god- er, the Most Sacred and beloved God-Emperor, whose throne is very majestic and not at all resembling a toilet! Sir!
Permission to back off and walk the other way, before I make some sort of fool of myself, sir?
CadianCommander wrote:Ineptus, Varl - finally got a chance to read the recent fluff, love them both!
...so Sigmund's a grumpy old, pink obsessed vet then?
Sort of... I have actually based alot of him on my old RSM (Regimental Sgt. Major for the non military minded here)... the guy was ancient, fat, used to measure distances for convoy driving in six packs... and could still out hike ANYONE in the Regiment... the guy was a human beer keg, and had been just that toooo long in combat...
Thanks for the /like...
...and just for the record.... HE IS NOT PINK OBSESSED! it is CHERISE!!! get it right...
CadianCommander wrote:
And just because I can sew a flag doesn't isn't unmanly in the Guard. Any Guardsman worth their salt can sew.
(useless RL trivia: my senior sensei was a sub-mariner in his time and when he joined up as a lad in the Navy he made a small fortune by being one of the only boys that could sew a button or darn socks!)
...as for that...
ANYONE who was in the Army can sew... you get chucked a uniform that is sort of made to fit Jabba the hut... and have to get it to somehow to look like something out of a recruiting ad... there are also no tailor shops in the bush so you either darm your own socks or you get variouse foot ailments that are both painfull as well as smell like a blue cheese Tuna chum mix...
I always say the the 5 most important things I learnt from my time in the Army was:
1) to sleep standing
2) to make a goumet meal in 10min from tinned/freezedried ingredients
3) to light a cigarette in a howling gale/in the turet of a moving AFV/tank with matches
4) to tailor and iron clothes
5) never p1ss off the chef or barmen!!!!
loner wrote:But... Then Russki cannot take Gretchin prisoner and keep them as pets? :(
Nor can he beat up one ork with another ork's dead body? :(
Nor can he dance upon the dead orks? :(
Nor can he feed Squigs to our Commissar? :(
The Commissar need to eat some squigs! They are delicious! have you ever been to Ratling Jacks?
loner wrote:But... Then Russki cannot take Gretchin prisoner and keep them as pets? :(
Nor can he beat up one ork with another ork's dead body? :(
Nor can he dance upon the dead orks? :(
Nor can he feed Squigs to our Commissar? :(
The Commissar need to eat some squigs! They are delicious! have you ever been to Ratling Jacks?
Did you make that one by yourself?! It looks awesome!
loner wrote:But... Then Russki cannot take Gretchin prisoner and keep them as pets? :(
Nor can he beat up one ork with another ork's dead body? :(
Nor can he dance upon the dead orks? :(
Nor can he feed Squigs to our Commissar? :(
The Commissar need to eat some squigs! They are delicious! have you ever been to Ratling Jacks?
Did you make that one by yourself?! It looks awesome!
I wish! 4chan /tg/ has great 40k art! look up cata-chan
loner wrote:But... Then Russki cannot take Gretchin prisoner and keep them as pets? :(
Nor can he beat up one ork with another ork's dead body? :(
Nor can he dance upon the dead orks? :(
Nor can he feed Squigs to our Commissar? :(
The Commissar need to eat some squigs! They are delicious! have you ever been to Ratling Jacks?
Did you make that one by yourself?! It looks awesome!
I wish! 4chan /tg/ has great 40k art! look up cata-chan
its an anglicism.
Ave Imperiator folks. 
but as i said I just had about fifteen minutes to work with it 
Here it is!
ing long math day 
