Sgt_Smudge wrote:
Humbled by the mention!
I'd love to work on one of the Veteran Sergeants! Maybe the 3rd?
Do the Lone Gryphonnes have any notable fluff elements I should know about?
Are the squads mounted in Chimeras/Taurox/Tauros/Valkyries?

 Otto Weston wrote:

 Sgt_Smudge wrote:
Humbled by the mention!
I'd love to work on one of the Veteran Sergeants! Maybe the 3rd?
Do the Lone Gryphonnes have any notable fluff elements I should know about?
Are the squads mounted in Chimeras/Taurox/Tauros/Valkyries?

Thanks for the response, sorry it took so long for me to get and do this. Sure, the 3rd Veteran Sergeant is yours.
I do believe my initial brief covers all the set-in-stone fluff elements, so, as long as those aren't breached... go wild
The Veteran Squads themselves are generally on my Fortress Battlements and don't have transports (but I have been known to send them out to capture objectives on foot if they're not immediately needed for defence).

 Sgt_Smudge wrote:
I intend to add more to this, but this is what I've got so far.

Veteran Sergeant Malachi Southers, 3rd Squad

Spoiler:

Veteran Sergeant Malachi Southers is the current Gunnery Sergeant the 3rd Veteran Squad of the Lone Gryphonnes Regiment. Through skill or (far more likely) luck, he has survived thirty-one combat operations since his “promotion” to Gunnery Sergeant during the Siege of J’Numa Bridge, making him the longest surviving member of the of 3rd Squad to date.

3rd Squad are issued with the standard equipment issued to the Lone Gryphonnes’ Veteran Squads, 3 plasma guns, a missile launcher, a cameoline stormcloak, and carapace armour.

The missile launcher is currently wielded by Trooper Harding, who is well-renowned for his paranoid and easily panicked nature. Why he was allowed to wield the launcher, affectionately known as the “Howling Gryphonne”, is unknown, but giving a paranoid guardsman explosives training, a chance to hide in dense cover away from the bullets and a feth-huge rocket launcher has proven to be undeniably effective.

Harding is accompanied by Trooper Fergas. Fergas is an undisputed master of thievery and jury-rigging, able to steal off-regulation equipment from Munitorum stores, owing from a life’s experience of “obtaining” and “enhancing” resources when he worked in the forges on Gryphonne. Fergas’ modifications to Harding’s ammo supplies have met with mixed success. His “melta missile” has earned much renown for the squad, whilst his “sticky missiles” have met with as much success as you’d think coating ammunition in glue before loading it into the missile launcher would. Harding is still enforcing a constant cleaning schedule for “Howling Gryphonne” after the incident.

Trooper Lovasz is the newest, and youngest, member of the 3rd Squad, saved from the Ork Waaagh! that the regiment had been deployed to eradicate and also the one who the squad palmed the plasma gun “Ol’ Reliable” on. So far, he has made 2 combat operations without the weapon overheating mid-combat, a feat that has never occurred before in the weapon’s history. Lovasz remains blissfully unaware of the new record he has set for the squad and no one in the squad has informed Lovasz of the true reason behind weapon's name, nor have they mentioned the fate of the weapon’s previous owner.

Thoughts?

Righteousrob wrote:

Spoiler:

Sargent Maximus "The Hatchet" Ronin currently commands 2nd squad aka Bravo Squad aka The Bandits. Max, as those higher ranking call him, has been at the helm of the Bandits for 3 campaigns now. The last campaign against the Eldar on Grimodis III left 99% of his regiments founding dead or captured. When Max and his squad were on the last Chimera out of Grimodis' lost hive city he thought for sure he would return home to Meshega and see the deep blue seas.. Only now he and his squad were being shuttled to join the ill fated Gryphonne as replacements for some campaign he had never heard of.

Max was given his name after first earning his promotion to Sargent and a brand new squad of "greenhorns". While training them on the ship deck of the transportation ship to Grimdois III, private Dayia was overheard saying "hes like a hatchet, he just cuts at us all day". From this time on Max has adopted the name and even carries around a regulation axe he uses. While the squad is drilled like any real Imperial Guard regiment, Max believes in the "fight hard, play hard" motto and allows more leeway in some regulations. The Bandits have been known to "regulate" more than their share of medical supplies and alcohol. The drug Spur is commonly used by the Bandits and more than one occasion Max has had to cover his squad's "regulation" of Spur.

On Grimodis The Bandits had lost its autocannon and gunners to the Eldar and have yet to have the gun replaced, men are easier to replace than weapons in this universe. While this outraged The Hatchet, The Bandits still had Righteousfury to burn the Xeno when they decided to make it close and personal and ole Bird Feth for when they tried to hide in cover. Private Holt currently had the honor of handling Righteousfury, it was an easy decision to give the flamer to man who believed the more he killed the more likely The Emperor would grant his lineage a spot with The Space Marines. Something no one in the squad was willing to tell Holt was nigh impossible.The mortar was manned by the newest additions Trebio and Yit, who both pissed themselves at the site of an Ork on Delcit 6. Better to have them lob indiscrimate bombs on the enemy than to run away when needed the most, plus Max would rather see the Commisar use his bolt pistol on the Xeno than on his troops.

The rest of the squad is equipped with standard issue lasguns, bayonets, dog tags, rations and entrenching tool.

Also what is the sarge equipped with?

 jhe90 wrote:
2nd Veteran Sergeant (Grenadiers and Forward Sentries, 3x Plasma guns and 1x ML)

“Hammer squad”

Spoiler:

Veteran SGT Victor Gorgi
Originally hailing from a Backwater Agri world named Marinas 9 in service of the Space wolves chapter, his regiment the 151st Marinas Reapers was wiped out to a few squads when a previously unknown xeno who lived in the planets crust where awakened by the battle to repel a minor force of Eldar pirates.
Some in his unit claim he is 45 others even 50+, others say this is a myth, what is known is he lost his left leg to an impromptu Field amputation when a dark Eldar poison clipped him, his skin is still tinged purple to this day. Bionic leg, and many scars from years of service he is a strict but loyal SGT who is willing to cover for his troops long as they fight hard and reap their fair share.

Wargear, Carapace armour, Chain sword “Reapers scythe” and Bolt Pistol. Tried and tested but brings forth the fury of a power axe when needed.

ML team
Julius Magnus and Brutus Magnus “Long Lance”
Hailing from a Hive world both brothers fought back to back to survive the worst the city could throw at them, Bulked up on a cache of muscle stims they found they stand 6’7 and 7’1 respectively built like Catchans, scars and tattoo’s a plenty though dangerously quick to anger to a fight.

Julius carries the Missile launcher like a regular man would a las gun, as backed up by a colossal hand cannon of an auto gun his side arm.

Brutus carries the ammo and loads the weapon, armed with a modified las gun for his frame and oddly a battle axe, forged from the remains of a leman Russ that was destroyed in the battle of Iron back Ridge vs Orks.
Plasma gunner
Private Marcus
The jolly and optimistic private Marcus and one of the newest recruits to the squad, and despite the dangers of his weapon “sols Revenge” carries a compact las carbine as back up if the plasma gun fails.

Plasma Gunner
Elizabeth Volantus “valkyrie”
She had to fight hard for acceptance by the men of her squad but soon proved to be just a tough and capable. Originally a trooper in the 67th Stormcloaks raised from the planet Haradri her regiment was destroyed not by battle but when most of the ships they travelled in met a violent warp storm.
Often seen leading the charge with her long blonde hair and vicious curved daggers which many a foe underestimated to their lighting quick deaths.


Forward Scout
Ivan “Ghost” Martinas
A cold and slightly aloof individual, he has never revealed his home planet and those who look into his grey eyes feel a sense of unease and involuntary shiver. He carries a Custom built sniper rifle named “Styx” and matching Las lock Pistol called “Cerberus”
Rumoured to be a former poacher, and darkly whispered Assassin his eye for weak points is unparalleled and ensure the missiles of “Long Lance” always find there mark.

All equipped as standard for veterans, Upgraded armour, cammo cloak for scouts etc.
extra bits are just for fun and flavour despite I know there’s no rules for them.

Just had some fun with it and tried to create some interesting ideas, feel free to tone the odd one down for modeling sakes if required.

 Otto Weston wrote:

 jhe90 wrote:
2nd Veteran Sergeant (Grenadiers and Forward Sentries, 3x Plasma guns and 1x ML)

“Hammer squad”

Spoiler:

Veteran SGT Victor Gorgi
Originally hailing from a Backwater Agri world named Marinas 9 in service of the Space wolves chapter, his regiment the 151st Marinas Reapers was wiped out to a few squads when a previously unknown xeno who lived in the planets crust where awakened by the battle to repel a minor force of Eldar pirates.
Some in his unit claim he is 45 others even 50+, others say this is a myth, what is known is he lost his left leg to an impromptu Field amputation when a dark Eldar poison clipped him, his skin is still tinged purple to this day. Bionic leg, and many scars from years of service he is a strict but loyal SGT who is willing to cover for his troops long as they fight hard and reap their fair share.

Wargear, Carapace armour, Chain sword “Reapers scythe” and Bolt Pistol. Tried and tested but brings forth the fury of a power axe when needed.

ML team
Julius Magnus and Brutus Magnus “Long Lance”
Hailing from a Hive world both brothers fought back to back to survive the worst the city could throw at them, Bulked up on a cache of muscle stims they found they stand 6’7 and 7’1 respectively built like Catchans, scars and tattoo’s a plenty though dangerously quick to anger to a fight.

Julius carries the Missile launcher like a regular man would a las gun, as backed up by a colossal hand cannon of an auto gun his side arm.

Brutus carries the ammo and loads the weapon, armed with a modified las gun for his frame and oddly a battle axe, forged from the remains of a leman Russ that was destroyed in the battle of Iron back Ridge vs Orks.
Plasma gunner
Private Marcus
The jolly and optimistic private Marcus and one of the newest recruits to the squad, and despite the dangers of his weapon “sols Revenge” carries a compact las carbine as back up if the plasma gun fails.

Plasma Gunner
Elizabeth Volantus “valkyrie”
She had to fight hard for acceptance by the men of her squad but soon proved to be just a tough and capable. Originally a trooper in the 67th Stormcloaks raised from the planet Haradri her regiment was destroyed not by battle but when most of the ships they travelled in met a violent warp storm.
Often seen leading the charge with her long blonde hair and vicious curved daggers which many a foe underestimated to their lighting quick deaths.


Forward Scout
Ivan “Ghost” Martinas
A cold and slightly aloof individual, he has never revealed his home planet and those who look into his grey eyes feel a sense of unease and involuntary shiver. He carries a Custom built sniper rifle named “Styx” and matching Las lock Pistol called “Cerberus”
Rumoured to be a former poacher, and darkly whispered Assassin his eye for weak points is unparalleled and ensure the missiles of “Long Lance” always find there mark.

All equipped as standard for veterans, Upgraded armour, cammo cloak for scouts etc.
extra bits are just for fun and flavour despite I know there’s no rules for them.

Just had some fun with it and tried to create some interesting ideas, feel free to tone the odd one down for modeling sakes if required.

Gave me some work with this one! xD I will endeavour to follow your fluff as closely as possible, I see this as a painting/modelling project so it's quite fun to do. This suits my background well with squads meshed together from loads of different sources. The Sergeant himself will be really fun to model and paint, purplish skin and a bionic leg

 Valkyrie wrote:
Armoured Sentinel Pilot - Corporal Draper

Spoiler:

The Draper Household own a significant proportion of the merchant trade on the world of Coronis, specialising in luxury goods such as silk, tea and spices. Leonius Draper, heir to the household's fortune, was disposed from the family after he revealed secret documents exposing the Draper Conglomerate's illegal trade in weapons to offplanet cartels. While Arbites officials had been aware of such trade for many years, a lack of evidence and powerful connections to the Planetary Govenors had prevented any investigation. While the expose was quickly swept under the carpet, the resulting shock caused the value of the Draper Conglomeration to fall to record levels.

Distraught by such a turn of events, Leonius' father, Earl Gregoria Draper IV, immediatly began rebuilding his fractured empire by pruning its diseased branch; his only son. Frail in age yet strong in mind, Gregoria gave such a task to his personal bodyguard, degreed that it be merciless yet painless. Thrice did Leonious avoid assassination:

On the first attempt the bodyguards gassed his quarters while he away was chaperoning a young spire maiden.

On the second attempt the hitman's rifle jammed as he was about to shoot Leonious at a family banquet.

On the third attempt, the would-be assassin was Leonius' own sister, who planted a toxin-spike under his mattress on the night he returned with the same young woman from the first attempt. In the frivailities of the night it was the woman who received the fatal dose, not Leonius, who out of fear of being convicted for murder, immediatly left the household with nothing more than the clothes on his back.

In no means a solder, Leonius' life transformed from one of opulence and wealth to that of a vagrant. No more would a dozen servants serve fine food and wine to the dinner table. No more would he be driven to formal banquets in vehicles costing more than the life of a hive worker. He was reduced to a no-body, picking food from disposal outlets and drinking runoff, with an eternal paranoia of his father returning to cleanse the family reputation.

Several years passed before Leonius received the chance to escape the hell of the underhive. Using his last possession, a locket containing a photo of his late mother, as payment, he smuggled himself onboard an Imperial Guard carrier, hoping to start a new life offworld. Slowly integrating himself into the ship's crew through personal favours and hard work, he came to appreciate the strength of the working man, how those with little in terms of wealth were happier than he had ever been.

Arriving at Gryphonne II, Leonius hid his priveleged background to join the local regiment, turning down the offer for a reserve position and demanding active front-line duty. Assigned to the Sentinel regiment, he quickly attuned himself to the workings of the simple yet reliable machine, whom he renamed Katya in honour of the woman he believes he killed. "Leo", as he is known by the regiment, is a stalwart and reliable soldier, although rumours of murder, narcotics and prostitution have begun to leak into the regiment. While clean and level-headed on the outside, a few flickers of his past life as a teenage ogliarch and a vagrant show themselves from time to time. Deep inside, he is a troubled soul, haunted by nightmares of Katya and his father, who to this day will not rest until his "son" is brought to justice.

 Otto Weston wrote:

 Valkyrie wrote:
Armoured Sentinel Pilot - Corporal Draper

Spoiler:

The Draper Household own a significant proportion of the merchant trade on the world of Coronis, specialising in luxury goods such as silk, tea and spices. Leonius Draper, heir to the household's fortune, was disposed from the family after he revealed secret documents exposing the Draper Conglomerate's illegal trade in weapons to offplanet cartels. While Arbites officials had been aware of such trade for many years, a lack of evidence and powerful connections to the Planetary Govenors had prevented any investigation. While the expose was quickly swept under the carpet, the resulting shock caused the value of the Draper Conglomeration to fall to record levels.

Distraught by such a turn of events, Leonius' father, Earl Gregoria Draper IV, immediatly began rebuilding his fractured empire by pruning its diseased branch; his only son. Frail in age yet strong in mind, Gregoria gave such a task to his personal bodyguard, degreed that it be merciless yet painless. Thrice did Leonious avoid assassination:

On the first attempt the bodyguards gassed his quarters while he away was chaperoning a young spire maiden.

On the second attempt the hitman's rifle jammed as he was about to shoot Leonious at a family banquet.

On the third attempt, the would-be assassin was Leonius' own sister, who planted a toxin-spike under his mattress on the night he returned with the same young woman from the first attempt. In the frivailities of the night it was the woman who received the fatal dose, not Leonius, who out of fear of being convicted for murder, immediatly left the household with nothing more than the clothes on his back.

In no means a solder, Leonius' life transformed from one of opulence and wealth to that of a vagrant. No more would a dozen servants serve fine food and wine to the dinner table. No more would he be driven to formal banquets in vehicles costing more than the life of a hive worker. He was reduced to a no-body, picking food from disposal outlets and drinking runoff, with an eternal paranoia of his father returning to cleanse the family reputation.

Several years passed before Leonius received the chance to escape the hell of the underhive. Using his last possession, a locket containing a photo of his late mother, as payment, he smuggled himself onboard an Imperial Guard carrier, hoping to start a new life offworld. Slowly integrating himself into the ship's crew through personal favours and hard work, he came to appreciate the strength of the working man, how those with little in terms of wealth were happier than he had ever been.

Arriving at Gryphonne II, Leonius hid his priveleged background to join the local regiment, turning down the offer for a reserve position and demanding active front-line duty. Assigned to the Sentinel regiment, he quickly attuned himself to the workings of the simple yet reliable machine, whom he renamed Katya in honour of the woman he believes he killed. "Leo", as he is known by the regiment, is a stalwart and reliable soldier, although rumours of murder, narcotics and prostitution have begun to leak into the regiment. While clean and level-headed on the outside, a few flickers of his past life as a teenage ogliarch and a vagrant show themselves from time to time. Deep inside, he is a troubled soul, haunted by nightmares of Katya and his father, who to this day will not rest until his "son" is brought to justice.

Oh nice! I do like this. I'll be painting on Katya's name soon but do you think Leonius might have personalized his Sentinel a bit? Maybe a House Sigil or something? I don't mind doing any greenstuffing, so any suggestions to suit your fluff would be awesome

 Valkyrie wrote:

 Otto Weston wrote:

 Valkyrie wrote:
Armoured Sentinel Pilot - Corporal Draper

Spoiler:

The Draper Household own a significant proportion of the merchant trade on the world of Coronis, specialising in luxury goods such as silk, tea and spices. Leonius Draper, heir to the household's fortune, was disposed from the family after he revealed secret documents exposing the Draper Conglomerate's illegal trade in weapons to offplanet cartels. While Arbites officials had been aware of such trade for many years, a lack of evidence and powerful connections to the Planetary Govenors had prevented any investigation. While the expose was quickly swept under the carpet, the resulting shock caused the value of the Draper Conglomeration to fall to record levels.

Distraught by such a turn of events, Leonius' father, Earl Gregoria Draper IV, immediatly began rebuilding his fractured empire by pruning its diseased branch; his only son. Frail in age yet strong in mind, Gregoria gave such a task to his personal bodyguard, degreed that it be merciless yet painless. Thrice did Leonious avoid assassination:

On the first attempt the bodyguards gassed his quarters while he away was chaperoning a young spire maiden.

On the second attempt the hitman's rifle jammed as he was about to shoot Leonious at a family banquet.

On the third attempt, the would-be assassin was Leonius' own sister, who planted a toxin-spike under his mattress on the night he returned with the same young woman from the first attempt. In the frivailities of the night it was the woman who received the fatal dose, not Leonius, who out of fear of being convicted for murder, immediatly left the household with nothing more than the clothes on his back.

In no means a solder, Leonius' life transformed from one of opulence and wealth to that of a vagrant. No more would a dozen servants serve fine food and wine to the dinner table. No more would he be driven to formal banquets in vehicles costing more than the life of a hive worker. He was reduced to a no-body, picking food from disposal outlets and drinking runoff, with an eternal paranoia of his father returning to cleanse the family reputation.

Several years passed before Leonius received the chance to escape the hell of the underhive. Using his last possession, a locket containing a photo of his late mother, as payment, he smuggled himself onboard an Imperial Guard carrier, hoping to start a new life offworld. Slowly integrating himself into the ship's crew through personal favours and hard work, he came to appreciate the strength of the working man, how those with little in terms of wealth were happier than he had ever been.

Arriving at Gryphonne II, Leonius hid his priveleged background to join the local regiment, turning down the offer for a reserve position and demanding active front-line duty. Assigned to the Sentinel regiment, he quickly attuned himself to the workings of the simple yet reliable machine, whom he renamed Katya in honour of the woman he believes he killed. "Leo", as he is known by the regiment, is a stalwart and reliable soldier, although rumours of murder, narcotics and prostitution have begun to leak into the regiment. While clean and level-headed on the outside, a few flickers of his past life as a teenage ogliarch and a vagrant show themselves from time to time. Deep inside, he is a troubled soul, haunted by nightmares of Katya and his father, who to this day will not rest until his "son" is brought to justice.

Oh nice! I do like this. I'll be painting on Katya's name soon but do you think Leonius might have personalized his Sentinel a bit? Maybe a House Sigil or something? I don't mind doing any greenstuffing, so any suggestions to suit your fluff would be awesome

A house sigil would be a good idea but I can imagine Leo would want to keep his past secret, not only to help himself blend in with the rest of the force, but also to avoid the attention of any potential assassins sent by his father.

Righteousrob wrote:
Max is armed with standard issue lasgun, hatchet on his hip, flak armor and flask. Max does not prefer being able to see the enemy, secretly wishing to command a mortar squad or be placed in artillery. Meshega home colors of light blue and deep yellow.

 Buttery Commissar wrote:
If it suits, I'll have a stab at 1st Infantry Sergeant .
And as it's your painting project I won't be an ass and stick you with a female Commissar.

(Actually, I have a squad I wrote a small adventure for recently and stowed away, I'll dig it out tomorrow and see what can be pulled from that)

 Buttery Commissar wrote:
I've got to sincerely apologise for the length of this, basically I've been writing a story that I'm currently too shy to share with anyone, and I've scraped through it and given you some of my favourite characters to play with. They deserve to get out and do something!
I'm not precious and if they don't work for you, please, change 'em up! I'm leaving weapons to you because in all honesty I don't know much about playing IG yet, and what sounds stylish to me, might play like a turd.

Sergeant Francis Gaskell ("Gaz", Frank)
Tired. Tolerant. Tenacious.
"You better be your smart-arse self when I come back. I can't do this huggy ****." Gaskell muttered, his charming way of saying he'd been worried.

Spoiler:

Appearance – Late forties. 6’ 2”, moderate build. Grey eyes. Short pale blonde hair fading to grey. Naturally pale, but weathered complexion due to time spent outdoors. Permanent dark stubble, despite his efforts.
Old, straight scar from his hairline to the cheek beneath his right eye (does not affect eye itself).
Standard Mordian Iron Guard uniform (Sergeant roping and insignia). Very tidy in his uniform, keeps it neat and clean, as to show respect for the Imperium. Not naturally a tidy man, but looks natural in his clothing. Has earned a couple of medals for long term service, and one for surviving a month long siege.

[Cat’s Diary]: “You try my patience, boy. Do you not understand why we are here? What this is?" the officer frowned as he regarded me. He was a young man, I guessed in his mid twenties, but I had little point of reference. His uniform was sharp and fitted him well, but he in himself looked worn. His grey eyes, shaded under a peaked cap gave him an especially tired appearance. Across one eye was a long, raised scar, marring what would probably have been a handsome face but for the sour expression he wore.

General info: Gaskell served most of his life as part of the Mordian Iron Guard 183rd ("Boom Hollies"). Before this, he was part of the Mordian PDF; the problematic promotion of being seen as proficient in your position.
On Mordian, he had a wife and daughter (Linda), he hopes some day to return to them, not unrealistic about the low chance of it happening. Most of his earnings are channelled back to them. He rarely speaks about them, even in close company, finding it hard to.
Warped sense of humour, beneath a dry exterior, often disarming those around him. Greatly frustrates the chain of command by both not appearing to take things totally seriously, whilst being very good at his job.
Hates paperwork. Hates meetings. Hates most formality. Speaks with a Northern English accent, inexplicably ("Get on, our kid!"). Greatly enjoys practical jokes and teasing.
Gaz is a very accurate marksman, his patience and steel nerves allowing for well timed shots that rarely fail to hit home. Vastly prefers this to getting up close and personal.

Philosophy: Bit of a grampa without the senility: upholding traditional values and showing respect (especially to those who earn it) are important to him. Misses his family deeply but is under wild no illusion he’ll necessarily get to see them again. Remains faithful anyway.
Calls a spade a spade, but is not simple in himself. He noticeably has a way of speaking that can be perceived as abrasive, but is actually his peculiar way of being amicable. Views the troops as a teacher would regard a class of rowdy teenagers: Affectionately, irritably… and accepting full responsibility for their actions. Raises his voice on occasion, but scarcely in anger (frequently in exasperation).
Never openly criticises command decisions in public, and very rarely in the company of his friends. Partly out of respect, partly because he feels it does nobody any real use. You'd think all the contained frustration would lead him to be a very angry man, but his patience is seemingly infinite. That does not make him any kind of fool, however.
Gaskell's priority is keeping the squad together and safe, not seeking glory. No coward, but extremely unlikely to make a push that would waste lives needlessly, especially where observation and precision would suffice. Can be frustratingly calm under pressure. Tactically efficient. Appreciates that uniforms get muddy in war, and it’s a sign of having done a hard day’s grind. Still, clean your boots, soldier.

In essence, he’s abusive but it’s very good natured. Generally, ruder he is to someone, the more comfortable he is in their company.
[Cat’s Diary] Gaskell sighed, “Feels a long time ago.” he took a drag on his roll-up and leaned back on the scrubby rail of the bar’s balcony, “You’re still a mouthy pain in the arse.”
Smoke and the dim lamps of the balcony emphasised the lines in my friend's face. He hadn’t visibly changed much in the intervening decades, if anything he just looked slightly more worn.
“And you’re still a grim-faced feth.” I grinned as he mimed taking a wound to the heart at my comment.

Feels in part personally responsible for looking out for Commissar Yorke, due to having first encountered him as a precocious (read: pain in the arse) child. Gaskell set him on the path to his career, before encountering him again nearly 15 years later. It may seem like high coincidence that they ended up in the same regiment, but many uncanny coincidences happen around the pair, and they've begun to suspect exterior involvement. Someone with extremely long reach has an eye on them both. For better or for worse, is yet to be seen.
[Cat's Diary] “Yes. Someone or something has a vested interest in us.” I looked back at Lewis’ bed, “It’s not comforting, but this far it’s done us more good than harm.”
“What’s the catch though? When is it time to pay the devil, Cat?” Gaskell was markedly less optimistic.
“More immediately, what happens if we ignore these opportunities?”

Medical: Absolutely fine. Bouncy. Does not yet use rejuvenate treatments despite encouragement.
Sexuality: Loyal to his wife/family and easily ruffled by teasing.
Habits: Drinks caffeine throughout the day, can be irritable without. Drinks alcohol in moderation. Smokes socially.

Commissar Ramirez Yorke: (Ray, “Cat”)
Overly optimistic. Open.
"There will always be bastards. And people will always make mistakes. But if I close myself off for the sake of saving myself from bastards and foolishness, I do everyone else a disservice by not giving them a chance!"

Spoiler:

Appearance: Mid thirties. 6’ 10”, broad shouldered but lean, pale complexion, black-brown eyes, usually ringed from poor sleep. Salt and pepper hair, worn short but shaggy. No visible scars or augmentations (yet).
Typical Imperial commissar attire, but slightly more understated. Greatcoat without braiding or shoulder decoration, Commissar hat, standard sash, boots. Carries slim power sword and "lucky" hell-pistol. The pistol is not in itself unusual, but the stock bears a small engraving left there by his grandfather, who won it in a game of cards from a very inebriated Rogue Trader.
The black-blue greatcoat Yorke wears shows a jagged hole to the kidney area, displaying colour of the sash worn underneath. Understood that this is to remind guardsmen that he has survived at least one attempt on his life. Also he doesn't know how to sew.
Does not wear any medals, despite surviving nearly a decade of active duty. It’s not clear to those around him whether he has never earned any, had some but lost them, or just doesn’t turn up when they’re being awarded... all seem very real possibilities. The truth is much stranger.

General Info: Yorke's silent step and uncanny ability to survive combat without apparent injury have earned him the affectionate nickname "Cat" amongst many of the guardsmen he watches over.
If asked, like all Commissars, he would tell you that his first loyalty is to the Imperium, leading and inspiring guardsmen to better themselves in combat. In honesty, his real priority is the wellbeing and improvement of the men in his care, and preservation of civilian life. Reasonably well respected (but never entirely trusted) by his regiment, he is generally professional about his duties, and as far as possible, easy to get along with. Despite being unnaturally optimistic about the company he keeps, he does not take great pains to enamour himself to those around or above him. Long realising that being affable conflicts with his duties as a Commissar, he keeps a few close friends and tries not to let the background animosity bother him (much).
No great skill with a blade, relying almost entirely on reactionary defence. Pistol skill is nothing to write home about either, but well trained. His survival in the battlefield is mostly credited to moving like butter off a hot grill plate, and taking careful advantage of opportune strikes. No coward, but not one to throw himself and his men into a suicidal charge to prove a point either.
Actually a very motivational Commissar, capable of convincing troops that all of their efforts are of great importance. Is able to work out how to get folks going after a short while in their company, be it by coercion, flattery or platonic abuse.
Deeply self-depreciating sense of humour. Excellent at getting a rise out of people whilst keeping a straight face.

Philosophy / Rumours: Yorke was presented a different calling in early life but turned this down, wishing to learn instead how to improve his fellow man as a member of the Commissariat. His motivation is a genuine concern for improving those around him. Determined to see the best in people, even if it kills him (and it nearly has). Despite his calling, death does not sit easily with Yorke, his outlook is that life is a gift, and the ending of it a last resort.

[Cat's Diary]: Searching for common ground, I tried a different approach. Carefully, I placed my mug down and sat up straight, “I don’t need to dehumanise men to convince them what they do is of importance. I’m here to motivate, improve, encourage. And I don’t have to bully or grind anyone down to do so.” I paused for a moment, considering my words, “Before I started out, years ago, a Lord Captain said to me, “Terrible things happen to men who stop viewing all lives as important.” Do you disagree, Captain?”

After five years alongside the Hollies, he is yet to use capital punishment as a motivational tool. In part due to their Mordian discipline rendering retreat highly unlikely, and part due to deep regrets he has over select executions in the past. Instead he chooses to remind those with him that they fight for those who cannot (and what may happen should they fail). Yorke is no stranger to death in the line of duty, however, attending and performing executions of traitors and those who have wilfully endangered the lives of fellow guard. It is so far mostly unknown about his actions with his previous regiment by those around him, and whether this has always been his modus operandi.
His respect for life leads to a great dislike of servitors, despite possessing a great poker face, he is noticeably unsettled in their presence. Having them serve food is a great way to put him on the spot. Senior Adeptus Mechanicus are similarly not his favourite company due to their predilection for augmentation, but are considerably less common encounters. Yorke is unusually tolerant of Psykers, considering them fair company as any.
Widely spread rumour is that Yorke was thrown out of his previous regiment for being caught sleeping in his tank. Or having an illicit affair with the Captain. Or that he rode his tank through the mess tent whilst having an illicit affair with the Captain.
What actually happened, is that Yorke refused to execute a grieving trooper for punching him in the face repeatedly. He has never revealed this to anyone, and has no future plans to, such information being dangerous.

Medical: Yorke sustained a serious stab wound in an attempt on his life, resulting in being more susceptible to the effects of drugs and alcohol. Otherwise fine.
Sexuality: Unfussy.
Habits: Does not drink alcohol or caffeine. Misses them terribly. Chain-smokes given the opportunity. Naps frequently in opportune places.

Example of how these two get along:

Spoiler:

“I swear to the Emperor, I will strangle you with my bare hands if you bring this up again, consequent disciplinary or no.” I wasn’t in the mood to be needled.
“Ah come on Cat, when have I ever been mean to you?” Gaz sat solemn faced, hoping to get a rise out of me.
I sighed, “Easy. For one, how about when I first joined the Hollies? You inexplicably told everybody you met that day that I enjoy being complimented on my height?”
He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “You don’t?”
Rolling my eyes at him, “I had over forty people tell me that week how fething tall I was, before I snapped and punched a trooper. It’s still happening!”
“How strange.” Gaz examined his fingertips through his gloves.
“You’re still telling people I enjoy it, aren’t you.”
“Every new recruit.” He grinned.

Remains of a Mordian Iron Guard regiment, the 183rd, AKA "The Boom Hollies" ("Hollies"/"Moonies"). Cookie if you get that obsolete reference.
Their colours are predominantly white with blue-purple trims, and ice-blue pants, and they are consequently terrible at keeping their uniforms clean.
Commissar Yorke’s damaged coat is black-blue, his shirt is ice blue, his sash is red, and his hat is usually hanging on a bedpost.

I have two more (thankfully) shorter entries (Rosen & Ahde) but quite frankly that's enough for this evening.
ex:
[Cat's Diary] Rosen was new to our company, and by all accounts a total liability. I was greatly surprised that he had made it through basic training, never mind survived this far into the night. My own pistol skill was nothing to write home about in the grand scheme of things, but I was sure even I could shoot rings around Rosen. During the day he had failed to kill a single bat unaided, and we had found him cornered up against a truck by one that he had only half-stunned. In the gloom I could read the relief on his face to be here with us. If he thought that he was going to get an easy ride out of it, he had another thing coming.

*(A decent base figure for undecorated Commissars is “Hero” from the Last Chancers, as weird as it sounds. I bought one to fill out my cadet squad last month. He's supposed to be "an officer" of vague origin)

 Sgt_Smudge wrote:
Another man for 3rd Squad, Gravemakers Squad.

Corporal CLIX

Spoiler:

Corporal CLIX is Southers’s right hand man. He has never removed his Tempestus-issue carapace armour to any other member of Gravemaker Squad, not even on rest assignments. The corporal has garnered wide reputation for his brutal methods in combat, sometimes eliminating entire enemy patrols single-handedly. Not a member of the squad has been harmed by his suicidal rampages, but “there’s always a first time”, says Trooper Harding.
CLIX is the serial number on the Corporal’s dog tags, identifying him as the 159th guardsman in the Polonian 501st Drop Regiment, which was recorded as “completely destroyed” at the Siege of Decim Quartus. The rank also stated he was a Sergeant, but like every dreg washed up into the Lone Gryphonnes, he was demoted down to Trooper. No name could be identified from the tags.
However, CLIX’s rise up the ranks was meteoric, and on his first combat assignment, was promoted up to Southers’ side, after the demise of the late Corporal Winters, who took an unfortunate mortar round to the head after he relayed incorrect data to the crew behind him.
CLIX took over immediately, furiously rallying Winters’s half of the squad and driving the heretic forces away from Southers’s beleaguered flank. Harding, ever the source of gossip and rumour-monging, began to spread the idea that CLIX had arranged for Winters’s death himself.
The squad still fear that it may not be an Ork choppa that claims their Sergeant's life, but an unfortunate incident with CLIX. Additionally, Harding has been rather dejected since CLIX uncovered the various tripwire traps hidden in his billet and sent them back to the trooper. Lovasz found the event most hilarious.
Sergeant Southers has dismissed these claims, and has since relied on CLIX’s innate ability to coordinate his men to greater feats of duty, and the corporal’s personally modified drop-issue las-carbine and twin laspistols.

 Buttery Commissar wrote:
I'm glad it raised a smile!
Weirdly, even though I wrote it, I don't know what's on the Hell-pistol. IIRC Cat describes it as "...a crudely carved face with sharp ears and teeth. An Ork? I wasn't entirely sure." I think it's up to you! I suppose it could even be a grot, or a critter.

Haha, that note perhaps was a little daft, but I figured in near 40,000 years, outside of propagation, many aspects will have changed. Maybe it just plain won't bother some folk which camp they spend their time with. Plus, when your position means that you're near universally disliked (or attract the wrong people for entirely the wrong reasons)... Let's be honest, napping and smoking are all he has left.

Anyway, I hope something there is useable. The others won't be so wordy. Horrifyingly, that was the abridged notes. So far I'm at over 56k words and it's mostly fragmented into scenes. I can't share it because a) shyness and b) it's based on an RPG adventure I'm writing, all the stuff I've written is what goes on for minor characters when the players are away ("...the mice will play.") so the actual action, direction and progression need to be played out and written in.

 Otto Weston wrote:
Also, considering Southers has survived more than 31 combat missions, I want to give him a couple service medals. Any design suggestions?

 jhe90 wrote:
Normal, Armageddon or such pattern and I guess gun sgt, loader or two, gun aimer and driver?

 Sgt_Smudge wrote:

 Otto Weston wrote:
Also, considering Southers has survived more than 31 combat missions, I want to give him a couple service medals. Any design suggestions?

I hadn't really imagined him with any service medals, to be fair! I guess the medal Company Commander torso could be used for him, but I felt that Southers would prefer regular combat fatigues to any kind of ornamentation. A few nice scars and prosthetic limbs might do the trick though!
A looted Commissar or Tempestus hat/beret might be a fun addition to represent spoils of war.
I'll be adding more to Souther's fluff soonish!