Setting and Timeline Overview

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Postby Kaiser » Fri Dec 16, 2016 12:15 am

DATE ++ 056.002 M42
TASK ++ Occupy Naris Capitol
INSERTION ++ Orbital landing via Dropship

TYPE ++ Agriworld, Key orbital drop station transit point
LANDMASS ++ Many small islands, Largest is Naris at approx 300km wide and 500km tall
TERRAIN - TARGET CONTINENT ++ Temparate Forest, mountainous
WEATHER ++ Varied
TEMP ++ 20c to -16c, Cold weather gear recommended for more northern posts
GRAVITY ++ .98 Terras

KEY PERSONNEL ++ Major General Charles De Puttin, Lord Commissar Link Abraham, Captain Belfast
MISSION TYPE ++ Parade and Occuply
ORDERS ++ Occuply and Parate Valmaria Planetary Capitol Naris to support reunification of Nance into Imperial Domain
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE ++ Escort Key Personnel Staff
SECONDARY OBJECTIVE ++ Present and Parade
TERTIARY OBJECTIVE ++ Cultvate good relations with native Imperials

Refugee Camp
Here, in the ruins of several hundred shattered bio-domes, huddle hundreds of thousands of displaced Naris civilians, struggling to get by. They live in makeshift tents, bombed out habs, crude lean-tos, gutted vehicles, and abandoned foxholes. Thousands come and go each day, many leaving in the night to try their luck outside the city, but most stay, praying that one side will win and that their lives will go on. The camp has been around long enough that a semblance of normalcy has set in, and the refugees have built up some amenities: small gardens, a makeshift hospital, a school, working plumbing, and even a holo-vid projector system, which is usually broadcasting old Ciaphas Cain serials on the side of the last remaining wall of the local cathedral.

The refugees have split into a few camps: fervent loyalists, die-hard rebels, and, by far the largest group, people who just want to survive. Scuffles break out between these groups with increasing frequency, often when either Rebel or Imperial soldiers stroll through the camp, usually in fights over “camp followers.” As a result, most of the refugees treat garrison forces with a mixture of nervousness and frustration.

Once the bustling center of activity in Naris, the markets are less lively today, but they managed to avoid most of the fighting, and so have held together for the most part. Long picked clean of most valuable goods, new shop keepers have taken up residence and peddle whatever wares they have to sell: packaged foods, locally distilled alcohol, mild narcotics, and less interesting, but still vital goods, ranging from baby formula to dirty holo-vids. Both Rebel and Imperial forces shop the markets to make up for supply shortages, and the area is considered a “green zone” by both sides… for the most part. Gung-ho rebels and imperials both have staged ambushes on the high line park that stretches across an elevated walkway overlooking the markets. Due to an increased disregard for the market’s neutrality, many shopkeepers have responded by organizing their own protective gangs to patrol the area and keep soldiers on both sides peaceful, with force if necessary.

High Town
Before the war, the nobility of Naris held court in High Town, the center of aristocratic power in the capitol, and the area was the first to be evacuated when the rebels took the Governor’s palace. Many nobles left their most precious possessions behind, and so High Town is likely the most frequently looted area on the entire planet. Scores of scavengers run the dangerous path through no-man’s land daily to sack the once-opulent palaces and manses of the emigrated nobles, load their packs full, and try to make their way out of the city with whatever they can carry. All that changed a few months ago, when a regiment of Rogue Trader household guard garrisoned the area in force, setting up defensive perimeters to hold the outskirts, while they systematically plundered everything they could find. The area is now firmly in the hands of the Rogue Trader’s forces.

Only odd thing is, something in High Town keeps killing them, and doesn’t show any signs of stopping.

Old Capitol
What was the Old Capitol is now little more than a glassy crater, a blemish on the eastern precincts of Naris. A lance strike will tend to do that to all but the most stoutly-built of fortifications. Little remains of the former headquarters of Naris High Command.

Administratum Precinct
To the north-east of the Old Capitol lies the ruins of the Administratum Precinct, the official buildings and data archives that made up the core of the Adeptus Administratum presence in Naris. The west wing of the precinct is little but a shattered slagheap after the lance strike that destroyed the Old Capitol district, and of what’s left, once-proud edifices are scarred and crumbling, the signs of righteous Imperial iconography damaged in fighting or chipped away later by rebels with something to prove and nobody to prove it against. Crude renditions of the Tau sigils are daubed in blue and tan paint where the Holy Aquila once proudly flew. Though the buildings and easily-accessed files have been damaged or lost to the lance strike or simply over time, questions asked in the right places turn up rumours that suggest the deep data stacks and archive cabinets have been left relatively intact, as the occupying forces saw no value in wasting energy trying to destroy the records of a mostly-compliant populace. Many of the lower-ranked adepts are said to have gone native, while the more senior members seemed to split more or less evenly between loyalist and rebel forces, leading to a shifting series of territorial spats between them amongst the record stacks. Senior Stack-Master Cythia is said to have not been seen since the lance strike. If asked, the loyalist adepts will report that she’s deep in the data vaults, tending her duties as diligently as ever in service to the Throne, while the rebels will state she was lost to the lance strike and thus is the reason they have turned their backs on humanity and sided with the Xeno.

Mechanicum Shrine
Located to the north-west of the Old Capitol, the Mechanicum Shrine of Naris is a tangled heap of metal, rockcrete and glassy slag, loomed over by the ruins of the Temple of the Omnissiah. It suffered greatly in the lance strike that took out the Old Capitol, with half of its structure torn and melted in the blast, the rest collapsing due to the resultant instability. Some lucky Mechanicus were absent from the shrine when it fell and others were extracted from the rubble, but many more were lost, buried in the now-sealed catacombs beneath or crushed beyond recognition or repair.

Nobody goes in or out of the Shrine now, it’s been left as a testament to the damage that the Imperials did to their own city, just to deny it to the enemy. But the Tech-Priests still around the city will tell stories of ghosts in the noosphere, or code blurts that come from places they shouldn’t be generated from. Citizens of Naris also tell of the odd blue glow that can sometimes be seen in the deepest hours of the dark nights, from down beneath the rubble, through cracks in the glassy ground.

Natick’s Den
It’s possible that Natick is the most hated man on Naris.

Formerly a Major in the PDF, Natick joined the rebels in the earliest days of the war, and helped the rebels access the outer walls of the governor’s palace, for a promise of the lion’s share of the looting. When the rebels gained their foothold in the city, Natick assumed he would join the ranks of the rebel high command, as a reward for his services, only to be snubbed by Commander O’Kaiyen, who had a distaste for the man. Bitter and outcast, Natick began ignoring orders, fomenting insubordination in rebel forces, and undermining the orders of rebel command. When his superior officer arrived personally at Natick’s forward post to strip Natick of his command, Natick took the man prisoner, which served as his de facto resignation from rebel forces. Since then, disgruntled rebels have made their way to Natick’s tower, now dubbed Natick’s Den, and he has begun building his own force by luring both rebel and imperial deserters with promises of excellent plunder, a cohesive strategy to retake the city, and the best camp followers in town. Both Commissar Holt and Commander O’Kaiyen have sworn to destroy the man at the earliest convenience, but never have enough of a reprieve to rid themselves of the blackguard.

Governor’s Palace
The Governor’s Palace is a soaring edifice dedicated to exalting the Emperor of Mankind… at least, pieces of it still are. The rest has been remolded to exonerate the Greater Good.

Lost in the early days of the rebel push into Naris, the palace is still largely intact, as it was betrayed from within and lost with little bloodshed. Since its capture the palace has served as the primary base of operations for the rebels within the city, and it serves well. Great halls now serve as barracks and muster points, ballrooms function as vehicle bays, and the Glorious Promenade of Heaven makes for an ideal landing pad, upon which Commander O’Kaiyen’s Manta Gunship makes its home. The palace is heavily fortified, and yet attacks from gung-ho Imperial Guard units persist, striking at the interior of the palace from secret passageways passed on to the Guard from loyalist servants on the inside. Purges and executions have been carried out to cull these informants, but quietly, unless they disrupt the efforts of the Water Caste’s propaganda engine.

Black Market
In the shadow of the Governor’s palace lies a sprawling mass of barbed wire, ruins, shattered hab-blocks and tank wreckage, nothing of note… but below it, in the subterranean lattice of bureaus that once belonged to various arms and offshoots of the Administratum, is the black market. Rebels, outlaws, refugees and displaced individuals who will not tell you their business make their home, and sell their wares. Many rebel commanders run their own businesses out of the stalls of the black markets, trading precious commodities looted from the governor’s palace for arms, ammunition, and other necessities their supply lines can’t cover. The market deals in other, more unseemly trade, which has given the market its name… rumors get into the details of alien technologies passing hands, crown jewels being peddled for a night with noblewomen and men who will sell their virtue to the highest bidder, even loyalist children sold to Kroot mercenaries as food… but the only way to know the truth of the Black Market is to go shopping, with enough thrones in your pocket to get what you want.

North Gate
The North Gate opens onto the main thoroughfare of the city, and thousands of refugees and guardsmen pass between its enormous reinforced doors every day. The gate is garrisoned by several platoons who watch the coming and going traffic with an uneasy eye, as the North Gate is the most common area within Imperial control to suffer attacks.

The garrison is entrusted with one of the lousiest jobs on Naris: checking the papers of each and every soul who passes under the gate, ensuring that all is in order. Their charges are refugees by the thousands, usually tired, hungry, wounded, angry, desperate, or all of the above. To make matters worse, rebel ambushes and attacks are a perpetual threat looming over the garrison. One band of ragged refugees could quickly become a violent surprise attack. The guardsmen work long hours, without sufficient numbers to operate effectively, plagued by the enemy, angry refugees, and expectant commanders.

Three gate houses form the defensive quarters of the Guard here: one to either side of the gate, and another above, with maglev chutes connecting them, and a subterranean tunnel that runs beneath the gate. This tunnel runs further into the walls of the city, but the entrances have long since been sealed off for security purposes.

North Barracks
Battered, broken down, leaky and slipshod, the North Barracks is where most of the garrison gets its rack time. Frequently the target of long range missile strikes and rebel artillery, the Barracks has been rebuilt each time by the can-do, roll-up-your-sleeves-and-fix-it-because-if-we-don’t-we’ll-be-executed attitude. Despite their best efforts, the southern corner of the barracks is currently missing a ceiling, shielded from the elements by an impressively large tarp. The regiment held most in contempt by base command gets racked here. At the moment, it’s the Valhallans.

The barracks is in a state of constant activity, as Cadians are cycled off of fire watch for their brief rack time, and bleary eyed Second Sons drag themselves out of bed for dawn PT. NCO’s patrol the halls relentlessly, shutting down any gambling, smoking, inter-regimental scuffles, inter-regimental “liaisons,” the guardsmen here are all veteran NCO dodgers, and so these activities continue apace. By far the most diverse area of the base, here, cultures from across the galaxy are allowed to mingle and share their views on the martial values, spiritual guidelines, and cultural markers of their unique civilizations with their fellow guardsmen.

It is a wonder they haven’t all killed each other yet, or mutinied, or both.

Officer Barracks
Shielded from all but the most well aimed molotovs by virtue of its proximity to HQ, the Officer Barracks are old template constructs. Little more than a series of vaulted, permacrete sheds (by an officer’s standards anyways,) they would seem a manse to the typical boot, most boasting in-suite bathrooms with mostly functional plumbing, a secondary room for storage or servants quarters (or both) and a complementary crop of black mold.

Officers’ Club
Whilst technically lying just outside the boundaries of the Imperial Guard base, the Officers’ Club is a quiet oasis of calm and civilised behaviour, necessarily tucked away from the boorish Enlisted and their barely-tolerable NCOs. Perhaps once the home of a well-to-do merchant, the fine furnishings have all been moved into the dining and living areas, providing a comfortable place where a man can have an amasec, smoke a cigar and enjoy a quiet game of poker with like-minded fellows as they listen to the soft strains of a piano from the corner. The hospitality servitor quietly tends to empty glasses and full ashtrays, replacing both with their opposite as required.

The officers can elect to take meals here, either prepared for them by their adjutants or cooked by the local staff, who have been carefully vetted for loyalty of course.

HQ Cathedral
A relic from a happier, more Imperial age, the Cathedral of Lord Pyre’s Everlasting Flame had been given over to squatters as the Imperial Creed fell out of favor amidst the locals. Its grand windows allowed to crack and shatter, its walls given to rot and decay, it speaks to the divine providence of Imperial engineering that its foundation and underlying structures withstood the neglect of the unfaithful. With the recent Imperial reclamation however came a restoration of purpose, and Lord Pyre’s (now known simply as HQ,) has regained its original purpose as a place of worship to the almighty God Emperor, and to war.

The drafty ground floor is open to everyone, given over to prayer and sermon. One can often find penitent guardsmen and locals stooped in its ancient pews, or one of the regimental preachers lecturing from its ancient, raised iron pulpit. Also down on the floor level is the new administratum service desk, where the last bastions of Imperial order remaining in the capitol have come home to roost.

The second level and clearstory are restricted to officers, NCOs, munitorum and mechanicus personnel, and other invited parties as a secluded place of worship and gathering. The windows, where they remain, provide a decent vista of the surrounding area as guests seat themselves amidst hard wooden chairs and the occasional table.

Higher up in the towers and spire bridge is the command center, frequented by Ordinate Anya Krugermann, Major Keegan, Captain Perray, and occasionally Commissar Holt. These floors are highly restricted and monitored, as they remain, perhaps, the last bastion of centralized command on the planet for the Imperial Forces. From here commands and status reports from the Naval fleet are decoded, long-range vox communications are monitored and issued, and missions are considered and assigned.

In the spires themselves are Commander Krugermann and Commissar Holt’s offices. While similar in their spartan decorum and staggering collections of books and documents, Anya has the better recaff machine and living space, while Holt’s extra space has been relegated to interrogation overflow.

Within the basements lie the brig and interrogation chambers, well fortified and guarded against rebels and heretics who would seek to empty them.

Astropathic Tower
Coming soon

Motor Pool
Coming soon

Mess Tent
Coming soon

Coming soon

Supply Depot
The supply depot is much as you’d expect it to be, a relatively large building with a tent adjunct to one side to expand the available space. There is a desk at the front, manned by Company Quartermaster Sergeant Nala Stockwell. She oversees her domain of shelves, crates and kit-bags with an iron fist, doling out goods according to the munitorum chits that are passed her way, provided they are properly stamped and signed. Weapons, ration packs, uniforms, equipment and authorised entertainment items are available for sale here, in exchange for wholesome Imperial Scrip or thrones for personal items. Outside daylight hours, the depot is closed and the doors to the building are closed and locked, patrolled by servitor and watched by pict-captors to help dissuade attempts at petty theft.Official records show that the building is a single-level, however there is an un-documented underground storage room, reachable only through a concealed trapdoor in the rear office where the records are kept. An underground gambling table den and still are located beneath, with invitations by special recommendation only and where the invitee is vouched for by two separate existing players or if vetted directly by Stockwell herself.

Smoke Pit If you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean. Guardsmen don’t have “off” time unless shore leave is called, and I don’t see any beaches around here soldier! That gravel isn’t going to sweep itself, so get moving!

There isn’t an official club or drinking pit for the general enlisted - they get their measure of munitorum-issue booze each week, and half an hour of “personal” time in their racks before lights-out each night. The rest of the time they are on duty and should be following orders or looking for orders to follow. However men will do what men will do, and an unofficial “smoke pit” has sprung up to the south of the Supply Depot, in a space tucked between it and the south wall. Some enterprising soul has managed to score a drab tarp and some crates, setting up a small and leaky lean-to behind an old shipping container that is waiting next to Supplies for pickup. Another kind sort with access to the illicit still keeps a stash of raggedy bottles and canteens in one of the crates, and you drink on the honour system - throw in a couple of scrip or a throne or some Naris local currency to allow the mysterious benefactor to keep the operation going.

Coming soon

South Barracks
Coming soon

South Gate
Unlike the North Gate, the Southern Gate is marked only by a high, recently constructed permacrete wall and several heavy weapon encampments. Despite these limited fortifications it’s nevertheless held fast by Imperial forces, in particular Captain Perray and her Cadian Carnodons. The presence of a Hellhound, a rotation of several Chimera and a couple Leman Russ appear to be effective in inspiring loyalty to the God Emperor for all who would approach this particular gate, and beside a stalled attempt to plant charges on the Hellhound’s promethium tanks, no enemy forces have had the gumption to try and take Naris from this direction.

Like the North Gate, the South sees all walks of life in and out of the camp, though the profiling and search of each passerby is regulated and thorough. Refugees are turned away as often as they’re shot for suspected alliance with the Tau, leaving only those most vulnerable and pious to venture inside.

Fort Stultus
Poised atop Grox Breaker Ridge, fort Stultus overlooks the south western approach to Naris. The fort was hastily assembled using a prefabricated Aurus pattern STC, whilst under fire from Tau air elements and heretic artillery placements. When it came time to install the walkways and eagles, it was discovered that sections of the walls had been installed upside down. Following a commissar approved change of commander, base construction was completed to the best of the garrison’s abilities and with the addition of hydra anti-aircraft emplacement and a heavy mortar battery, the enemies in the sector were seen off. The fort was then expanded to include a small vehicle depot, a refueling station, and a comms array and for a while served as a staging point for patrols and raids.

For weeks, little enemy activity was reported around the fort until patrols began to disappear. It was rare at first, rare enough to be chalked up to poor orienteering, but soon it was occurring at an alarming rate. Almost immediately after contact was lost with a relief column sent to reinforce the fort, all attempts to raise the fort were met with vox silence. A second force will need to be organized to determine the fate of the column and to re-establish contact with the garrison of Stultus.

Outpost Mercuria
Outpost Mercuria lies to the east and slightly north of Naris, overlooking the eastern approach. Built into the remnants of an old shrine to one of the forgotten local saints, Mercuria rarely sees much in the way of anything of importance. Due to the less-travelled nature of the eastern road and the utter lack of anything occurring, Mercuria only warrants a paired posting. Frequently the posting of choice for whoever’s fallen out of favour with higher-ups and are wanted out of someone’s hair, where they can do no harm.

Outpost Crucius
Crucius is the southernmost observation outpost, little more than a forward station to try and keep an eye on the advance of the Tau forces from the south and to warn Stultus of any encroaching enemy columns. Staffed by three scouts on rotation at a time, Crucius is seen as a bit of a cushy posting. All you have to do is hang out, watch the roads and nap if you’re not on watch. Though the lack of indoor plumbing kind of sucks. And the swamp-owl infestation can get a bit noisy at night. And fuckin’ Dross swears blind that he saw those huge bird-like feckers just lurking in the treeline, watching him when he was on rotation. But everyone knows fuckin’ Dross is full of shit. And apart from that and the swamp-chiggers… And gnats… And those slimy lizard bastards who keep getting into my BOOTS it’s pretty sweet.

Coming soon

Old Fuel Depot
Coming soon

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Postby Kaiser » Sun Dec 25, 2016 11:28 am

Senior Commissar Holt’s Report, Concerning Naris - A Brief Summary

I’ve been made the custodian of an utter debacle.

A mustering point for the Imperial effort against the Tau, Naris had been an Imperial gem, floating alone in space. An agriworld, forgotten by all but the tithe masters, until the Tau set their eye on the system just a couple years past. Slowly, they’d been building their strength in system, infecting Imperial minds with their propaganda, sparking a rebellion that spread like wildfire across Naris. The world was no longer fully in Imperial control, and the Tau mustered to consolidate their hold on the world. The time had come to retake what was rightfully ours. However, when I arrived a month ago, I was met with a war effort in utter disarray.

The garrison was composed of a truly ramshackle combination of forces. Rowdy Valhallans no better than a penal legion, a lost regiment of Cadians bereft of proper support, haughty Second Sons sipping tea on patrol, all lacking cohesion, organization, or discipline. These were the leftovers, those lost in the shuffle of Munitorum bureaucracy, assigned as rearguards because they couldn’t be trusted with front line work or had simply wandered here in search of orders, any orders, and found themselves a part of Naris for good. Some were assigned here as punishment, as I had been. Throne willing, we would all suffer together, and be soon forgotten.

Upon my arrival, I immediately sought out High Command to address the state of disarray and breakdown of unit cohesion, assuming I’d have to send heads rolling sooner rather than later. I consulted with Major General Charles De Puttin of the Second Sons, Captain Belfast of the Sheffeldian Hard Liners, and my immediate superior, the once-lauded Lord Commissar Link Abraham. We were joined, curiously, by Rogue Trader Maximillian Merovech, Captain of the proud Vox Ultimus and commander of a significant force of household troopers and atmospheric smallcraft. The Rogue Trader just happened to be in the neighborhood, noticed the recent troubles, and kindly offered his services to high command, thinking only of Emperor and Imperium, and nothing of his own gain. Surely.

Our forces mustered in the orbit of Naris - as capably as such a ramshackle force can be mustered - and the Lord Commissar and Major General drew up an action plan. We would respond to the Tau Empire forces encroaching on the sovereignty of Naris, and deploy to support the still Imperially aligned Lord Governor. The Major General and Lord Commissar had been urged to withhold action until further support could arrive by Lord Maximillian, but I insisted on a more aggressive course The Lord Commissar agreed, and so we moved to secure the world from the impending Tau invasion.

Major General De Puttin, Captain Belfast, and several of the regimental leaders made planetfall and immediately treated with the Lord Governor, who welcomed them with open arms, as the Lord Commissar and I hastily prepared our garrison for occupation and combat. The High Command’s victory march through the capitol had scarce ended when local insurgents, raising the flag of the Tau Empire, ambushed the officers, and overwhelmed thousands of elite Imperial Guard bodyguards through the use of guerilla warfare and familiar terrain. What was supposed to be the best of our officer corps vanished in sudden pitfalls, toppled stone walls, and a blaze of promethium fires without hardly a dent in enemy forces. I was disgusted by the sheer incompetence, but nothing turned my stomach more than what would come next.

The officers of High Command furtively voxed us from the capitol, now wholly occupied by the rebels, our officers firmly in the hands of the enemy… and the traitorous Lord Governor. Lord General De Puttin gravely informed Commissar Abraham that due to the governor’s collusion with the enemy, they had been outsmarted, and the time had come to lay down arms. The Tau would overwhelm this world, and with High Command in their hands, nothing the Guard could do would halt the advance of the Tau Empire on Naris. The Tau commanders urged us to call for a truce, or there would be no saving the officers of High Command.

The Lord Commissar and I responded with a lance strike, supported by bombing runs from the Rogue Trader’s Emperor-class Battleship. The lances obliterated our own treasonous High Command, the Lord Governor of Naris, and the Old Capitol in a single stroke. The best panacea for an infected boil is always the lance. It would now fall to Abraham, myself, the Rogue Trader, and the junior officers to retake Naris. We signaled the launch of a full counter-invasion, to quell the rebels and prepare for the inevitable assault of the Tau.

Our invasion forces were dogged from the start. Massive communications failure hit every drop force in the middle of our landing, sending troops wildly off course. Here, the Tau revealed their hand. For months, perhaps years, they’d been building up forces in the wilderness of Naris, an advanced guard readying the world for invasion. At their signal, a hidden fleet of Tau vessels dropped into close orbit, and the naval battle was joined. The Tau naval forces could not withstand the fury of our small but nimble fleet, combined with the sheer might of the Rogue Trader’s Emperor-class Battleship, but navy was unable to prevent the deployment of the Tau’s aeronautica force. The Tau now dominated the skies, pinning our forces, further disrupting communications, and destroying supply lines. By the grace of the Emperor, I made my landing and established order over the few regiments I could muster.

A chaotic month of fighting ensued. I drove my forces hard to garrison the capitol, establishing a base in the contested area. Just as we made our foothold,, we received word. A Tau assassination cadre, aided by pro-xenos rebels, had successfully ambushed Lord Commissar Abraham’s command platoon, and wiped it out.

With the death of General Aventis, Major Keegan, the bellicose officer coordinating the Unseen Sons regiments of the occupation force, was now the senior ranking officer on Naris. As far as I am aware, I have become the most senior Commissar on Naris. Cut off from naval support, surrounded by hostile rebels, dogged by constant Tau raiding cadres, we resolved to dig in, strengthen our positions, and prepare for the inevitable xenos assault.

A miserable set of circumstances, to be sure, and yet, in those early days, I had faith. How many times had courageous junior officers risen through the ranks to form the backbone of leadership guardsmen need to overcome the enemy, despite the odds? We were living the stuff of legends. Faith, steel, and a proper bayonet charge would save the day.

Those were the early days. I am more realistic now, but still, hopeful.


Our requests for reinforcements were largely ignored, though additional forces did trickle in. The Rogue Trader consolidated his hold on the territories his forces had conquered by bringing in yet more troops and aeronautic smallcraft. A sorely needed wave of support, to be sure, and yet I find the increased presence of his troops, and his men’s naked displays of avarice as they pillage the cities like pirates, disturbing. The Rogue Trader’s men become less and less cooperative, and more and more independent each day.

Not each new arrival brings such dire tidings. I have been assigned a pupil, a Junior Commissar Talon, who is over-enthusiastic, unblooded, and bumbling, but passionate. The men like him, which is a pity. He will need to earn their respect. If his incompetence doesn’t see him killed first.

Ordinate Anya was a happy surprise. She had been overseeing our requisition reports for months, brilliantly dividing our resources and devising cunning stop-gaps to make up for requisitioned shortfall, trading with locals to get everything else we needed, even assigning me a tailor to patch up my coat (without my asking after it.) I’d thought Captain Yalleck had been the coordinator of our logistical efforts; imagine my surprise when Yalleck’s death notification slid across my desk, four months old. I made my way to the Munitorum requisition office and met Ordinate Anya for the first time. She was nervous about my arrival, unsure of why she’d been assigned to the Imperial Guard, simply doing her job because she saw a need for it, and worried that she’d be consigned to the brig or executed. Instead, I offered her an officer’s commission and asked her to continue. We’re short of capable, loyal hands as it is. I know a blessing when I see one.

The Rogue Trader amasses more strength. The Tau continue to press us from all sides. Our forces continue to suffer from rebel ambushes. And yet, more troops find their way to us past the ruins of their own regiments, bringing more men and hungry mouths. To be sure, our garrison is a chaotic hodgepodge of Imperial cultures, peoples and philosophies, often at odds with each other. The troops are variously too green, too jaded, too disciplined, or too undisciplined to operate without dysfunction. And so they operate. Dysfunctionally.

Throne help us, but we will hold the line.
Recent events have shaken my already low confidence in the trustworthiness of the Rogue Trader. Junior Commissar Talon, and the squad of equally dysfunctional unfortunates to which I’d assigned him, encountered a squad of Merovech house guard in the tunnel system near our base. The Junior Commissar’s squad and the Merovech troops soon came to blows over recovery of one Nomen Rynn, a curious techpriest uncovered down in the rubble.

Who ordered the Merovechs to encroach on Guard occupied territory without my say? What is so valuable about this Nomen Rynn, that they would draw arms on their allies to secure him? If our Lord Captain objects to his troops being held in captivity, then perhaps he should enforce a more disciplined command.

Whatever it is, I wish we’d simply given the blighted techpriest to the Lord Captain when he asked after him. The priest had no memories, supposedly, only offering trinkets I can only assume were pieces of himself, broken off and hung from wires. (Unsanitary.) And not a week after his detainment, Nomen went mad and attacked Lieutenant Brinton and the Junior Commissar Gunner during a routine interrogation. After the altercation, his constituent parts - the good Lieutenant and Junior Commissar were quite thorough - were then given over to the techpriests on base for autopsy.

But, of course, our misfortune not content to end there, this saw to a good number of our techpriests and the head Enginseer himself being subsequently infected by some unknown pathogen, perhaps the same that had made Nomen what he was. They began constructing an abomination from spare parts in the vehicle bay. While this has been dealt with, it has come at the terrible cost of half of our mechanicus force and a half score of our tanks.

I no longer know who presents the greatest threat: the Tau, the rebels, the Merovechs, or this Nomen Rynn.

I fear I may have to call upon old allies to arrive at a solution...

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Postby Talancir » Fri Feb 17, 2017 11:31 am

The amount of Kriegers on this forum has the potential to totally redefine the composition of the Valmaria campaign. When did they arrive? How many Death Corps Regiments are on planet? Can Kaiser draw Gas masks and trenches?

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