[OPEN] Death Korps HQ

Anywhere within the IG perimeter
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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Sat Apr 01, 2017 8:54 pm

Just to the East-North-East of the North Barracks lies a grim and foreboding place, home to a group of soldiers whose tendencies are seen by most proper Guardsmen as 'unsavoury' or 'callous'. To these troopers, Capital Grid Reference J-12 is an unwelcoming place, best left avoided. To the tau, it is a shell-lobbing thorn in the Palace's side. To the Munitorum, it is the greatest importer of ferrocrete, ordnance shells, and collapsible shovels on-base.

To the 554th Death Korps of Krieg, it is home.



Once, at D-Day and D+1 of the Valmarian Reconquest, the Krieg Operational Headquarters had been a simple standard-template Aquila Strongpoint, dropped from orbit and fortified as per regulations. From D+2 onwards, of course, that changed drastically.

Basic slit trenches, nothing more than glorified heavy stubber nests, deepened and lengthened into a full perimeter trench network, connecting trenches snaking outwards and establishing a second outer trenchline. A third. By present day there was a fourth in the works, off-duty troopers digging away under the supervision of map-toting engineers. Shipments of ferrocrete had trickled down to the 554th’s Engineer Corps, and soon the familiar sight of slab-sided ‘Martyr’ class bunkers dotted the perimeter, the muzzles of heavy calibre weapons jutting from their firing slits. Firing pits had been dug into the inner complex, though heavy munitions were limited – one ordnance piece was a heavily damaged Basilisk assault gun, its hastily recovered hull only able to turn on the spot, incapable of independent movement.

The former Aquila Strongpoint now little resembled its former self, the foundations thickened with ferrocrete spurs and extra quarters unceremoniously bolted to its side. Much of the expanded structure lay underground – indeed, most of it only visible as patches of grey poking through the dirt – and several heavily reinforced doors jutted out of the ground straight into the innermost trenches. Though once equipped with a formidable macro-cannon, a surgical airstrike by the Tau in the war’s opening stages had reduced the mighty weapon to slag, the golden Aquila atop its turret now little more than scrap metal. While the many firing ports along its flanks remained operational, the great gun itself would never fire another shell.

Most Kriegers will spend their time either in one of the barrack sections of the underground complex, or on trench patrol. Mines must be placed and cleared, tank traps and razorwire require inspection, trenches have collapses and cave-ins that must be corrected and repaired. Artillery and counter-battery duels between the base and the Tau in the Palace sectors occur regularly, while combat engineers curry around, planning new approach saps or further fortifications.

Welcome to the Korps, soldier. In death, atonement.


[[Think of this as the Krieg equivalent of a Barracks Thread, mostly a place for hard-working Kriegers to spend their off time. And their active time. Most of their time, really. If you want to bring in non-Kriegers, go ahead - just think of a reason, bring them in, and don't step on a fragmentation mine!]]
Ferrum honore veniat.


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CyGamer
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Postby CyGamer » Sat Apr 01, 2017 8:58 pm

The picture kills me

Who says the future has to be grimdark? Matt Ward that's who.

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Drocol Ritter von Krieg
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Postby Drocol Ritter von Krieg » Sat Apr 01, 2017 9:47 pm

[[OOC: That's Juuuuuuust right.]]




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Fates End
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Postby Fates End » Sat Apr 01, 2017 11:31 pm

The flight had been long and grueling. The trip down through the atmosphere more so. But finally boots had touched ground. In the case of the battered remnants of the 19th Krieg Siege Regiment. The wait had been surprisingly short and yet painfully long. The Watchmaster gazed across the battered Imperial Installation. Realizing just how beleaguered the situation was.

His breath could be heard in soft mechanical whispers, passing through his rebreather. Fashioned to look like a skull, though the chalk-like paint was drab and weathered. His rifle slung over his shoulder, he turned and assessed the situation as best he could. Compared to the last world he fought on, this was a welcome reprieve. But the state of the garrison drew concern. So many disparate elements. And of course, his was yet another barely there unit thrown into the mix.

But perhaps there was hope. In the distance, the familiar call of home made itself known. A slender smile crept along his lips under his mask as he moved forward. Waving the others along with him. They came in good order. Though only a few dozen in number, the remaining survivors of the 19th were a fraternity of the oldest kind. Bound by pain and hatred. Words were already rare among Krieg Regiments. And rarer still with these men. They all moved quickly, carrying only a smattering of gear amongst them aside from their rifles and energy packs. The road to this world had left little time to resupply.

As he approached the outer trenchworks of the home-like bastion he slowed, watching for the sentries he expected. How much had changed since last he'd seen another Krieger? How much had he?
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Sun Apr 02, 2017 12:34 am

[[OOC: I'm goind to "establish"" the 9453rd's existance within the Trench Network/Barracks, a few timeskips here and there, don't answer to it, it'll be more like a narrative short story]]

---First Morning---
All Properly dressed, in their full battle gear, a unit of some 160 Guardsmen awaits the inspection of the Commissar, this is the morning and every unit must pass Morning Inspections.
They stand in complete silence for over an hour, completely still; some might think they are but mannequins, dressed in uniforms while the actual Guardsmen are hiding or consuming their contraband, yet silent sounds of breathing from their respirators indicate that they are indeed alive. While their faces are covered, a quick glance at their shoulder pads will reveal their identity: Numbers and rank.
Merely serial numbers for weapons in service of the Emperor.
The place they call "home" is a combination of Underground Bunkers, checkpoints, artillery positions, Trenches spread as far as the eye can see...
Such is the way of Krieg.

Between the still silhouettes a captain silently walks, stopping only to take note at the perfect position and battle readiness of his troops. If the commissar (who is remarkably late) will not inspect the troops, he will do it himself. He only needs the stamp and his unit is ready to assume their duties.
Inefficient and wasting precious time.

After the unofficial Inspection is complete, the Captain sighs and looks out of the smaller hatch that acts as a window or at worst a firing position that leads outside the Company Barracks Section into an open space that is one of the bigger underground installations dug by the Combat Engineers: Perhaps the Commissar was not informed of the troop deployment? They landed a day ago true, but their paperwork was normal and they did receive a space for the night, which is actually attributed to the 554th and not to the lazy Administratum clerks...
#9453/1-101 glanced at his adorned pocket watch, he already knew the exact time but could not come to terms with the fact that the Commissar was now 3 hours late. A Commissar. Late. For Inspections.
A hiss of depressurizing air was heard and the skull-shaped respirator mask on the Krieger's face sled on the railings within his helmet down and now rests on his chin, Cpt. Johannes Wyss lights his Lho pipe and looks at his displeased men; they all know the addictive effects of the drug, but Johannes was not much of a smoker, a drastic measure was required to contain his fury and his men knew it well.
After a quick look at the barracks his unit resided in, the Captain ordered 6 of his men to take the nearby cleaning supplies (that he requisitioned upon arrival) and scrub any trace of dirt and mud from the floor tiles, the walls and the ceiling; they were not permitted to leave the barracks until inspection, might as well use the time productively even though the room was already clean as part of their regular Inspection preparations. Fortifying this position futher would be a waste of resources. Cleaning will not.
#9453/1-101 was content with the feeling that his unit actually does something instead of idly wasting the Emperor's sunlight- that will never reach this deep in the Bunker.
Cpt. Wyss assigned another Kriegsman to stand guard at the door facing outside, if he saw the mentioned Commissar, he will salute him and proclaim "Krieg Storm Infantry unit #9453 ready for morning inspection, Commissar Sir!" This should give plenty of time for the cleaning Kriegsmen to return to their positions and for their Captain to extinguish his pipe and slid his respirator mask back on, he should at least try to keep up appearances on his first deployment day. Cpt. Wyss chuckled as his pipe produced white smoke...

---The Eagle's Perch---
The the Death Korps of Krieg 554th Siege Regiment Compound was truly a citadel: With artillery as Catapults and Balistae, Fortified Bottlenecks as Gatehouses, Underground Networks as Dungeons and Barracks, High Spots are Watchtowers and for the walls they relied on the solid trusty reinforced Ferrocrate as well as the constant waves of manpower they could muster at any given moment.
High above the ground, in the previously more luxurious Hab Blocks the Krieg Scout contingents reside like eagles in their perches, unseen and awaiting for the best opportunity to strike. There, the highly trained Snipers constantly watched the surrounding streets and other blocks not within this citadel, by "watching" it means laying supressive fire or occasionally melting off either a Traitor's or a Xeno's head with superheated beams of light -delivered by the pinpoint accuracy of their Longlas rifles. The number of such "perches" makes one wonder if they could stop a direct attack with Sniper Volleys alone, a wiser one will not step on a mine on his way to cover.
#9453/8-201 kneeled next to a window, together with a Spotter they were responsible for the security of this section -sometimes firing, but the Lieutenant was currently scribbling in her notebook: Not pretty images like the local fauna or #28-D-0715's face, which was undoubtedly handsome but this scribble was more practical: To call it a Scribble would be dishonest, It was a masterpiece; of the whole vicinity she was entrusted with, but it was not intended to for mere amusement even if it brought her a joy thinking about any profits the 554th might gather from selling such works, granted, no one would buy a picture if one will not have the intention of eating it, and the picture will not leave the 554th's possession as it had a strategic value: Command requested field intelligence on the view the Snipers had from their positions and any locations the enemy might find refuge in so it could be shelled or occupied. Normally, a written report will be issued and presented to the command but being part of the 9453rd's company, a unit which operated on a semi indepandant manner it had to pass through the Captain, who ordered the Lieutenant to attach a detailed drawing to her report: Written materials were too long to read for their value and were also a waste of good parchment, a drawing would give the regiment command a clearer insight to the nature of it's positions in almost no effort. The Kriegerin took delight in the passing moment of doing her duty, and a bit of evaluating her skills projected on the parchment: it was perfect, accurate and clear nothing less than perfect will not be tolerated and failure was out of the question in the Korps but for all it's worth the scribble was also pretty in the Kriegerin's opinion, she could take a little joy in that before her commanding officer will cover it in red circles indicating questionable positions and his neat handwriting describing them.
And so throughout their deployment, the Sniper and the Spotter were looking through the binoculars and the scope, the spotter will stay up while the lieutenant will hunker down to continue filling her report with more details, proving her worth as a Kriegerin that follows orders!

---Rat's Den---
Deep beneath surface of the planet, the underground tunnel network created a labyrinth of turns and twists, leading up to kill zones mines trapdoors and other nasty fates that an attacker might encounter as his death. The underground network was also an excellent bunker, reinforced with metal and Ferrocrate by a regiment known for it's meticulousness, it was resistant to almost all forms of bombardment: Planetary and even Light Orbital. It was perhaps the only place on this planet that could be deemed safe, at least to a loyalist.
The Loyalty of the Data Predator Stagsimus Pratextus to the Martian Priesthood Dogma, as questionable it may be, was sincere. He also very loved being safe and away from other Tech Priests, that this place proved ideal for his line of work. True, those excellent conditions came with a price, one that the Magus had to agree from the point of desperation rather than pure goodwill: He was to act as caretaker of the 9453rd's company machines. A humiliating position to other Tech Priests of his stature to act as mere Engineseer but Stagsimus did not complain, the sooner victory could be achieved, the sooner Stagsimus will get away from this planet. And victory demanded the machines to be operational for that.
Pratextus' position was not so bad, as part of the agreement with the 9453rd's Captain the Company was also obligated to provide him with materials for his personal research, not to mention being quiet about it considering the nature and origin of those materials.
His personal quarters were slightly adjusted to his needs, or lack thereof: The Bed and plumping were deemed unnecessary by the Magus, whose body might be closer to a machine's rather than to a human. So his needs were more intellectual in nature. A workshop made from the most basic materials the Imperium could spare and other Materials filling in the gaps made the working area refined enough to Stagsimus' work, and his other Work: Various projects were stored in his footlocker or hidden from prying eyes, some of them not strictly along the lines of the Teachings of Mars. But they fulfilled their necessary purpose, so the 554th had no reason to complain, not that they knew of course but the equipment being more functioning and the shorter time for maintenance had a positive effect that was not registered until the Tech Priest was integrated to the regiment. He had value to them, which means that his safety was held in a higher priority than an ordinary engineseer's and for that Stagsimus could only thank the Omnissiah. And #9453/1-101 of course.
The brief "rest" more like recharge had Stagsimus' memory data being restarted and knowledge surfaced once again to the Data Predator's mind, he "remembered" that he still hasn't seen to his mentor's status today. The Magus opened a hidden compartment in a wall and unlocked the safe, the brief noospheric update put Stagsimus at ease: The Phylactery was still intact. Closing it, the Tech Priest resumed his duties for today: Repair a Chimera, Replace an Artillery Gun Barrel, Repair a Commissar's Arm and #9453/8-201 requested the regular order of hairpins, in the rate she was giving them the Stagsimus thought that by now every human, traitor and xeno had at least one and she simply continued giving them to the Owls. Not that it's a bad thing on the contrary, the Company and to extent Stagsimus Pratextus to needed more eyes: Trust was rare on this planet and old amenities and inner conflicts of the Cult Mechanicus could surface again now that the Tech Priest is not protected by his home's Legions of Skitarii and Titans, so knowledge and a few good metres of reinforced underground Bunker filled to the brim with Death Korps will suffice...

[[OOC: I might add a few more of those stories with time... Any thoughts for now?]]
Last edited by Johannes Wyss von Krieg on Thu Apr 06, 2017 5:24 am, edited 6 times in total.

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Sun Apr 02, 2017 6:30 pm

Ferrum honore veniat.


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Postby Fates End » Mon Apr 03, 2017 1:22 am

The Watchmaster paused, noting the guns locked onto the lander with equal measures pride and sadness. Paranoia was the name of the game, even amongst the brotherhood of the Death Korps. He halted and saluted sharply. Roughly three dozen other soldiers coming into formation behind him. The majority wearing the mask of the Grenadiers, a remaining eight of their number were plain guardsmen.

"Watchmaster 9983-A. Nineteenth Krieg Siege Regiment. First Platoon, second company. Ordered to this theatre to provide support." Ash replied with an even tone, ensuring it carried clearly through his respirator. "Ident Code VR dash Zero Zero One." Behind him, the meager remainder of his regiment saluted sharply. The rain pattering down along their helmets and slickening their greatcoats.
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Mon Apr 03, 2017 2:01 pm

Ferrum honore veniat.


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Fates End
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Postby Fates End » Mon Apr 03, 2017 11:43 pm

For a few precious moments. The sound of the rain pattering down across ferrocrete, helmet and greatcoat was all that could be heard. The light sound drowning out the barely there whisper of the Krieger's respirators whirring. Ash stood stock-still, even his breath seeming to pause for a moment as he registered the order.

Of course. It had been expected. They'd all---at least a part of them, knew the days of their Regiment were done. The 19th would be reconstituted later. It may even have already been. But their 19th was gone now. Swept away by a word. A wave of almost palpable resignation swept over his meager platoon.

The Watchmaster fought it, though. He nodded simply, releasing the breath he felt like he'd held in forever. "Thank you, Captain." He responded simply. Saying a silent prayer to an uncaring god that his men would accept it as he had. And for the most part, his prayer was answered. The vast majority of what was left of the 19th stood stock still, unmoving and emotionless. All except one.

Near the center of the small block of men, a single Grenadier with a battered, gouged helmet slid silently to his knees, head hanging. And though he didn't hear it, Ash could tell something had happened by the change in the air yet again. The Grenadier had uttered not a sound, aside from a minor squelching as his knees had sunk into the spongy ground. But Ash still felt the dejection run through his unit like a ripple of anger. They were the 19th. They had been through hell a dozen times over, seen horrors other regiments could not even imagine---and now they were being wiped away--- The rest of the former 19th reacted. Moving almost imperceptibly to block line of sight to the fallen soldier in their midst.

For the Watchmaster's part, he could do little to hide the aberrant behavior of one of his soldiers. So he pushed on, pretending as though nothing were out of the ordinary. "Captain, My unit is exhausted and almost out of supplies. Your orders?" He queried with a monotone voice.
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Wed Apr 05, 2017 3:21 pm

[[OOC: I have finished the Introductory Stories featuring my 9453rd's Characters. Feel free to tell me what you think about them via PM!
Now I'll Write in the In-Character Format in this thread, if I'll decide to add more stories I'll simply edit them into the first ones.]]

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Wed Apr 05, 2017 7:13 pm

Ferrum honore veniat.


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Postby Fates End » Thu Apr 06, 2017 3:34 am

Some days, their unforgiving god was----perhaps, not quite so cruel. The Watchmaster nodded sharply, taking the rain-slicked dataslate, looking over the familiar base construction and feeling a measure of comfort in the fact that this, finally, was a facility with familiar angles and defensive positions.

Without having to look, he knew two of his fellows had grabbed their fallen, shaking comrade and pulled him to his feet. They were all used to covering for that specific Grenadier. Some debts would never be repaid. But better that the Captain did not notice. Or at least, did not speak of it. "No Questions necessary. We will work into guard and work rotations immediately, resupply as we can." He replied sharply. "No officers remain in this unit. If one is available, we will need one assigned."

He slipped the Dataslate to his most senior Grenadier, allowing his defacto second and right hand time to go over the layout. "Thank you, Captain." He did not salute again, as per regulations with the possibility of enemy snipers, saluting would be a dead give-away of officer ranks. But nodded once more, the motion sharper still, sending droplets of rainwater splashing downwards in a small torrent.

A moment later his meager platoon marched deeper into the entrenchment. The barest hint of two Grenadiers half-dragging, half-carrying a third hidden away at the center of the block of soldiers. The Watchmaster followed a moment later, relieved that for the time being, his unit wasn't being broken up. Some days, despite his misgivings, the God-Emperor smiled even on the Damned 19th.
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Thu Apr 06, 2017 4:21 pm

The engineer-captain gave no reply, instead waving a hand signal to the Kriegers in the trench. As they recovered their kit from the increasingly deep water at the trench's floor, the engineer nodded to the Quartermaster.

"#32-T-3503/Q. Standard induction procedure. I will leave it to you."

And with that, the engineer and his entourage disappeared down one of the base access trenches, leaving the Quartermaster alone with his thoughts, the rain, and an increasingly waterlogged Grenadier.
Ferrum honore veniat.


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Zink
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Postby Zink » Thu Apr 06, 2017 4:42 pm

"Understood."

The Quartermaster's response was curt, almost matching the mannerisms of the Captain and his shortened form of speech - the Krieger only pausing for a moment, his mind running through scenarios and variables. The Medical files that had been presented were lackluster, and his rudimentary training from the Munitorum adepts taught him well the mark of the more secretive sects that defended the Imperium, censures and data-scrubs from the Regiment logs a clear give-away of some form of meddling, at least. While the Inquisition was known to the Krieger, at least in name (In the event His Authority needed to be confirmed among such persons), he did not question the redacted files. Good Kriegers did not question, but the aging Quartermaster was far from perfect.

Turning on his heel, #32-T-3503 gave a small wave of his hand towards his Grenadier escort, hands clasping firmly behind his back as he marched through the waterlogged earth and clay that comprised the Trenchworks. Truthfully, such a pose was unnecessary, if not inefficient - his hands were farther away from any weapons, in the event of attack - and the Quartermaster was well aware of this. It was a motion that his instructors did, an all too human gesture, and a part of him had assumed that it was necessary for a commanding unit to maintain such a pose - now, of course, muscle memory simply took over, rather than any conscious choice.

It portrayed a sort of humanity, uncommon to Kriegers. It almost portrayed weakness.

A tightening of his jaw, imperceptible behind the Skull-faced visage of the resp-mask, was his response to such a thought. Good soldiers were not weak. He was not a Defective, nor any other non-Krieger. Forcing his hands back to his sides, the Quartermaster increased his pace, intent on catching up to the Watchmaster, and quickly getting Medical data out of the way. He simply 'hoped', if one could call it, that the Kriegsmen of the 19th were not like the Defectives.

"Watchmaster Unit Nine-Nine-Eight-Three, hold for Medical Inquiry."

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Postby Fates End » Thu Apr 06, 2017 7:17 pm

The Watchmaster of the 19th turned at the hail, automatically halting his progress. His unit halted seconds later, small splishes and splashes of water and mud kicking up as they waited for instructions.

Ash glanced to the Krieger that had hailed him. A Quartermaster. It felt as though it had been ages since he'd seen, let alone spoken to one. The last Quartermaster attached to his unit had died a miserable death halfway through their campaign. And the Munitorum had either not seen fit to replace him, or had more than likely simply run out of men to send.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the rest of the man's question. A query of medical status. He inclined his head slowly, "Quartermaster." The now drenched Watchmaster greeted, water dripping off his helmet, "How may I assist?"
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

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Zink
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Postby Zink » Sat Apr 08, 2017 8:38 pm

[[Apologies for delay, lost pet and heavy work schedule kinda distracted me]]

"Quartermaster. How may I assist?

An imperceptible furrow of his brow was #32's initial reaction, hidden beneath the resp mask - though any Krieger could easily tell he was caught off guard. In casual conversation, such a response was normal, but to a Krieger? For a moment, the Watchmaster's vocal mannerisms lined up with someone like Hauptmann Wyss, a lax, informal wording - Nothing like the 554th. Pushing aside the rising doubts that these Units potentially matched the Defectives in mentality, the Quartermaster spoke, resp-mask hissing out condensed vapors with every rasping breath.

"Access to 19th Krieg's files has been restricted, alongside medical files and template data. Please specify Template-Data of units." The request was curt, wasting no breath on elaborating what he meant. To a non-Krieger, the best approximation of what he asked for would be something akin to a genetic template of the squad - blood types, deficiencies, organ compatibility - things one would need to know when donating salvageable limbs and blood to the Officer ranks. The Quartermaster carried no form of dataslate or noting material - the Kriegsman already having prepared a mental space to 'store' the information for proper transcribing and logging.

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Sat Apr 08, 2017 8:45 pm

The Quartermaster was not alone. He rarely ever was.

The medical officer's assigned Grenadier loomed behind him and partly to his side, wielding a heavy stubber in both hands with far more ease than they had any right to. Their eye-visors stared blankly at the 19th, the dull glint of the base's dim running lights reflected in their lenses and the water trickling off them. They spoke no words and made no movements, other than the occasional hiss of their mask venting waste air into the chill morning. Of course, no words were needed - their very presence, weapon loaded and half-raised, was an implicated threat.

Don't shoot the Quartermaster, because they'll shoot faster.
Ferrum honore veniat.


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Fates End
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Postby Fates End » Sun Apr 09, 2017 10:40 pm

He'd caught the Quartermaster off-guard. This in return gave Ash pause, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the side. Why had that response thrown off the other Krieger?

The Watchmaster was silent for several moments, processing and contemplating the request and the reaction. The Grenadier behind the Quartermaster seemed wary, paranoid, even. Finally, he came to a decision. "Inquisition ordered that all documents regarding our unit were to be classified. For the purposes of fallen bodies---" Here was a second choice. To tell a portion of the truth? Or to follow the Inquisition's orders to the letter?

He closed his eyes for a moment. A foolish movement, to be sure. But here were fellow Kriegers and his fellows. Foolish, but allowed. The half-truth would have to do, in this case. It could save lives in the future, and thus, was worth the effort.

"Our gear is old, but functional. Leave the bodies where they fall, we have been exposed to multiple contagions and biological agents. Cleared for duty, performance unaffected. But organs unlikely to be of any use."
"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

(Fates now has too many characters to link easily. Thus follow this handy link to my character thread and go wild.

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Zink
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Postby Zink » Mon Apr 10, 2017 9:58 pm

So his intuition was correct, after all.

The Quartermaster nodded, gear shifting ever so slightly as he looked over the motley collection of Kriegers that stood before him. While it was regrettable that their organs and other salvageable body parts were contaminated, #32 did not question it. In fact, given the censures by the Inquisition, whatever virophage, gene-plague, chemical agent, or other forms of nefarious genetic sabotage would quite possibly contaminate - and by extension, harm the recipients of organ and blood donations; Primarily the ranking members of the 554th's command structure. The Watchmaster had saved the medical officer valuable time, and effort, in relaying this information - enough, in fact, that #32 quite audibly vocalized it soon after.

"Affirmative. This unit commends Watchmaster Unit Nine-Nine-Eight-Three for initiative in dispensing information. Gear will be salvaged per protocol - body parts subject to Unit's discretion for disposal methods." Giving a cursory glance over the Watchmaster's unit once again, he nodded, clasping his hands at his sides. "Medical Inquiry complete. Watchmaster-Unit is to return to assigned duties."

And with that, the Quartermaster turned on his heel, assuming a brisk march back down the trenchworks, boots kicking up mud and water. He didn't verbally communicate for the grenadier to follow - after all, they'd have begun to move anyway.

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Warsmith Wolf
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Postby Warsmith Wolf » Mon Apr 10, 2017 10:06 pm

Ferrum honore veniat.



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