Active Plot Thread- The Wall

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Postby Richard » Wed Sep 12, 2018 9:49 am

The day is grey and overcast. The regimental standards hang limp. Birds line the parapets of the southeast wall, huddling under the banners of the Unseen Sons. The base is quiet, with many companies out on patrol or seeing action. But still, you have found some excitement.

You were to embark on a patrol action yourself, but you have fallen afoul of the wroth of the Great Enemy: logistical entanglement. Your vehicles, three Tauroxes, primed and ready for sortie, are not here. They have been reassigned to a patrol of Unseen Sons, according to the Enginseer. According to Lieutenant Brinton, however, they have been misappropriated. Stolen, even.

Lieutenant Brinton, sunken eyed and haggard, still cuts a fine figure in his starched and pressed officer’s uniform. He fixes the Engineseer with as stern a glare as he can muster. The Engineseer is unmoved. His vox piece thrums to life and he speaks.

“Due to the demands of our theater of war, all available personnel carriers have-”

“Yes. Yes, I heard you. I heard you the first thirteen times,” Brinton says, his voice grating.

He turns away from the Engineseer, glowering. He knows, as you know, that all companies and personnel are on a strict patrol rotation schedule. Every guardsman is to complete a particular number of rotations out beyond the wall, to get stuck in and come to close action with the enemy, as is their duty. They are to meet this exact number of rotations by the end of each Valmarian monthly cycle, and, as Commissar Holt and Ordinate Anya have emphasized, there will be no exceptions.

The month ends in two days. If you don’t make this patrol, Lieutenant Brinton has assured you that, in his words, “Holt will chew our asses off.”

Brinton turns away from the Engineseer and rubs his palms into his eyes. He turns to you, his assembled patrol.

“The Unseen Sons have stolen our mounts,” he grumbles. “So, what are we to do, hmm?”

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Johannes Wyss von Krieg
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Postby Johannes Wyss von Krieg » Wed Sep 12, 2018 11:59 am

A hand sprung up among the Gaggle-Frak of Imperials; truth be be told, the owner of said hand did not have to raise it fully considering the already obvious height difference between them and the standard Imperial Guardsman.

"Herr Leutnant, permission to Speak" Scout Unit #9453/8-316 asked, muffled by its Krieg respirator.

Truthfully, the Death Korps of Krieg did not usually boast of capable scouts but the 'irregular' 9453/554th company was more than eager to provide its forces to any mixed regiments operations, the fact that they pushed their troops above and beyond their schedules was very helpful in plugging holes in otherwise 'Ready' and 'Full Strength' Recon Teams. For that, a Scout unit in their 2nd 'extra' outing is aa great boon both by the Killing power and by experience.

"Suggestion: Request Mounts from 9453rd Krieg Company's Cavalry Detachment. Company completed its required patrols and its assets should be available" The Scout finished its trail of thought when given permission to do so.

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Postby DeMarchese » Wed Sep 12, 2018 12:39 pm

Despite the menacing clouds darkening the sky, Aesteban seemed to gleam like one of the golden statues representing the holy saints at the cathedral. From the tip of his beret to the fine trousers, his uniform had been cleaned and starched until it resembled something like a giant, walking snowflake. The imperial aquila and the family coat of arms were proudly displayed in a golden gorget discretely crackling with electricity and ozone. Nacre and gold ornaments were feverish polished the previous night. Even the medals remain on the breastplate.
Anything to offer the image of a perfect officer, worthy heir and scion of Valmaria.

Aesteban is quick to distance himself from the rank-and-file of the teeming masses of peasantry and brutish plebeians forming the main force.
With a seemingly casual and indifferent pace, he slowly walks towards Brinton and stands behind him. Arms crossed behind his back, he remains silent and unflinching for most of the time at Brinton's right side, clearly stating his place in the chain of command without a word.

Richard wrote:Brinton turns away from the Engineseer and rubs his palms into his eyes. He turns to you, his assembled patrol.

“The Unseen Sons have stolen our mounts,” he grumbles. “So, what are we to do, hmm?”

The lieutenant snorts upon hearing the news.

"Unseen Sons" he murmurs "Filthy savages and thieves no doubt, sir"

He leans a bit his head to whisper something to Brinton but he clears his throat in a polite attempt to catch his attention.

"I suggest requisition of local resources, sir" he whispers "We have Arkos, though I doubt this rabble could master the necessary riding skills. Let them walk, I say. We can secure a few for the officers and let the soldiery have some exercise"

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Postby Commissar Cat » Wed Sep 12, 2018 12:52 pm

Johannes Wyss von Krieg wrote:"Suggestion: Request Mounts from 9453rd Krieg Company's Cavalry Detachment. Company completed its required patrols and its assets should be available" The Scout finished its trail of thought when given permission to do so.

"With due respect for the creative thought, it doesn't solve the wider issue of giving the rest of us viable transport." Commissar Yorke smiled tiredly, but amiably, at Erika, "War horses are valuable and most of us are untrained to use them. But that's not to say an escort is a bad idea."

It had been a couple of weeks since Cat had been seen on active rotation, resting from a hard crack to the skull during a recent recovery mission. As such, cleaning up the end of month mess had been thrust under his nose.
The commissar appeared his usually tidy self, with the addition of a simple leather eyepatch and row of stitches above it, which earned him a slightly quizzical expression. He waited patiently beside the commanding officers.

Turning his head to Brinton, Yorke offered, "Sir, suggesting we round up some chimera - persuade folk if they're less than forthcoming - and escort those with walkers or cavalry? We did recover that additional sentinel walker, which gives us a large gun if someone can drive that."
Cat then fell silent again, waiting to see who else had suggestions.

He had watched as Aesteban approached, but remained utterly neutral. Whether or not he agreed with the whispered suggestion, the commissar was in front of others now, and remembering his place to build cohesion.

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Postby Tabitha Maru » Wed Sep 12, 2018 1:10 pm

Cursed. Most definitely cursed. Somewhere out in the vast expanse there must be a witch that has placed one on her. She was sure of it now. How else would she, a driver, keep ending up on missions and patrols only to find that there's no vehicles when it was supposed to be. Ever since the motor pool burned down. Clearly the witch was in on it with the Tau that torched the place too.

Tabitha stood straight backed before the pompous Second son lieutenant, helmet under her arm, pack on her back with the carbine neatly strapped to the side, looking sullenly at the vacant spots where she imagined the Tauroxes would have been standing. She bet the Unseen son's were mistreating them too...

The exchange between the lieutenant (Burton?) and the engineseer roused her from her thoughts, turning her attention to them as he turned towards them to ask if they had any ideas. Well... she wouldn't mind a chimera, majestic beings those, but if Tauroxes were in short supply chances are chimeras weren't more available. There were trucks she supposed, if they could find any. She wouldn't know the first thing about riding though, it didn't seem to have much in common with driving and animals seemed moodier and testier than vehicles in general.

When Commisar Yorke mentioned the Two-seater Sentinel she piped up.

"I know how to drive it, sir. Or well... it didn't fall over last time I did it at least... and the terrain was kinda uneven"
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Postby Heart|Soul » Wed Sep 12, 2018 2:34 pm

Lourn sighed internally as the scene unfolded. Of course the Tauroxes had been taken. That would just be convenient. He was about to offer that they take this up with Keegan when the Krieger spoke up. Cavalry? As in... What were they called again? Hearses? He'd never even seen a hearse, much less know how to ride one!

Thankfully, the idea didn't fly with the Commissar. He perked up at the mention of a Sentinel, and was slightly relieved when the woman next to him said she knew how to pilot it.

"If it needs a gunner, I can do that," he chipped in. Granted, he'd been trained to use a bomber's turret, but it should be the same basic principle. Right?

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Postby Riveris » Wed Sep 12, 2018 4:35 pm

Wilfred was between Lourn and Tibitha. His slate carapace recently cleaned and fresh bandages over his eye. His slate field cap on smartly. With his hands behind his back he would step up. His helm and heavy heavy stubber just behind him on the ground just behind him. "Surely we have at least a few half tracks left? or local trucks that way we can keep our harder stuff in our hand?" The sergeant would then step back into rank. He did feel his vision pull towards a window facing outside. The ashy grey and dark sky reminded him of cut and rounded stone it made him feel safer.

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Postby Hobbsy » Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:25 pm

Amongst the gathering, Joseph Omen observed the birds the flew about the wall that towered above. Such blessed creatures were free to come and good as they pleased, to move and live without restraint. How he wish he could join them.

The Bacaran returned his attention back to his current situation as the officers began to ask for suggestions. Out of all the missions he could be on, he had to be on the one with two Seconds Sons and a Commissar! The Second Sons were the absolute embodiment of everything Joseph hated. They had the same sinful pride and arrogance as the traitors who were the cause of everything bad that had ever happened to him and his brothers. He had also heard about this Brinton and his willingness to expend guardsmen. Strangely enough, the Commissar was his saving grace. Yorke, or Cat as he goes by, wasn't the usual Commissar stereotype and had proven even kind to Joseph. The Bacaran still had the las pistol the Commissar had lent him (he really needed to return it, maybe after this mission..). Hopefully he would at least keep the other officers from killing him off.

Joseph simply watch on as everyone else gave suggestions for alternative transports. He like the idea of using a sentinel, he had always wanted to ride on one. Though he doubted that anyone would let a penal grunt like himself do so.

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Postby Zeppo » Wed Sep 12, 2018 6:45 pm

Ema stood at the end of the line, her white uniform almost clean, her cap under her shoulder. She remains still in her stance when the Lt announce steal of their transport, of course the Unseen Sons of a b****, when something goes wrong in the base they’r never far. The next time she will meet an Unseen Sons, she will make sure to give him a course of seemliness.
She pinches her lips when Aesteban walks towards Brinton, working under command of a young pedantic noble and her regimental Commissar, this patrol will be a cake walk.
At least the other guardsmen have good proposition, a truck escort by a sentinel and horses? That will be enough for a simple patrol.

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Postby Nevaraon » Wed Sep 12, 2018 8:31 pm

Joseph would feel a presence behind him, slightly before the sound of ripping and chewing.

“Ah dun’t like da look of all them fancy ‘howdoyadoes. It ah seems like overkill, ‘specially wit that thur shiny one leading this hur shindig.”

Billium Carmine had quietly stepped up next to the Bacaran. Just on the edge of arms reach. He stood with his wide brimmed hat pushed back to reveal his whole forehead. He also had a bit of jerky in his mouth that he was chewing on. His green scarf and goggles hanging down around his neck.

Noticing if Joseph reacts, He offers another hunk of the Jerky that he’s eating.

“Name’s Billium Carmine, but ‘chu can call me Carmine or Billium. Anything other than Billy, works just fine too.”

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Postby TheRedauthar » Wed Sep 12, 2018 11:34 pm

Hera sits on the ground, legs crossed, with her chin in her hands.

This is….frustrating. The air, the circumstances, the Unseen Sons….mostly the Unseen Sons.

She pulls her goggles up over her eyes rather than hanging around her neck, mostly to hide her roll her eyes at the Engineseer and Brinton’s continuing debate.

Yes, keep arguing, surely Tauroxes will magically drop from the sky. Along with 50 Chapters of Space Marines. And the Emperor himself. And money.

Truthfully, Hera has decided to herself that Brinton is just as bad as the Unseen Sons. At least her orders allow her to be a pain is his pompous posterior. Of course she’s heard rumors of the kind of treatment he gives to the troops in his command.

He also looks rather cranky....has he not been sleeping? Or eating?

Richard wrote:Brinton turns away from the Engineseer and rubs his palms into his eyes. He turns to you, his assembled patrol.

“The Unseen Sons have stolen our mounts,” he grumbles. “So, what are we to do, hmm?”

“I assume this means we either *ahem* requisition something or we walk?” Obviously her suggestion wasn’t helpful, but it really wasn’t meant to be. She listens to the others bounce suggestions for a while listening for any that sound plausible.

A krieger mount would probably eat me. Anything out of Aestaban’s mouth was a bad idea. A walker would topple or crash. Or spontaneously combust.

“I can drive a Chimera, I was an officer’s driver before,” she sighs finally deciding to be helpful, “Even if we don’t have an escort, we should be able to ride in or on it.”

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Postby LaxKnight » Thu Sep 13, 2018 2:18 am

Among the many Guardsmen standing in various forms of attention with their lasguns, one woman in maroon red light carapace armor stood out among them for she lacked a lasgun. Instead, a majority of what she wielded were melee weapons like a weapon, shield, and sword. Sometimes there were those bold enough to ask Thea why she didn’t have a lasgun and the answer was simple: she was never issued one. Her regiment was mainly melee based and if she really needed range she had her pistol.

Unlike probably most people here, Thea was put on this patrol simply because it was her scheduled time to. She looked around, not quite recognizing anyone in this group, and gave a small groan. She didn’t care for Unseen Sons but they delay greatly annoyed her. She wanted to get this over with so she can either go out into the fight or practice when she will. A part of her eagerly wished that they would encounter something on this patrol but she knew that she would likely regret such a wish. The infamous Second Son Lieutenant Brinton was leading this patrol along with some other Second Son and a Commissar. While she didn’t respect the Second Sons, whatever honor they had was simply a facade, she did share in their frustration. The question was posed on what to do now that their vehicles were stolen. There were several suggestions, such as horses and acquiring trucks or some other vehicle.

“How far do we have to go, sir? We could simply go on foot,” Thea just wanted to get going.
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Postby Hobbsy » Thu Sep 13, 2018 3:13 am

One of Joseph's lesser known quirks is that whenever something past close behind his neck (whether it was wind or something physical like a hand), he would give a rather visible flinch. Although it may make him look green, this instinct had proven a valuable asset in more than one occasion.

As his senses picked up the presence of someone behind him, Joseph's shoulders quickly shot up before rapidly dropping again. It was a good thing Billium was an arms length away as the large marching pack on the man's suddenly lurched around as the Bacaran turned to see what had set his quirk off. Seeing the man chewing jerky, he relax a little more. Not one for high gothic himself, Joseph was rather fluent in what he referred to as 'pigeon gothic' giving that some of brothers spook in similar fashions. "Your words aren't far from the truth mate." Joseph whispered over his shoulder. "You have to keep a hold of your head around these guys, if you know what I mean. The Commissar is the safest one of the lot!"

Taking in the man's appearance, he could pass as a brother back on Te Harinui. The way he wore his hat reminded Joseph of a sun flower though. The stranger then offered a piece of nice looking jerky and introduced himself. Joseph gave a wide smile as he took the offered meat. "Cheers brother. I'm Joseph, what regiment are you with?"

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Postby Commissar Cat » Thu Sep 13, 2018 11:06 am

Cat nodded towards Tabitha, "I recommend Private Maru's abilities, whatever transport we secure, Lieutenant. She has the skills to back up her claim. Never seen a six wheeler land safely after being up on three, before."
Privately, the commissar hoped that by recommending Maru as a driver, it may save everyone the experience of watching her bludgeon another rebel half to to death with a gun.

The commissar acknowledged and nodded as others volunteered their skills or suggested ideas. The enthusiasm at least was a good atmosphere, even if it was borne of frustration.
He raised his head at hearing a strong accent, winking at Joseph and Carmine with a small hand gesture to keep their friendly chatter at a lower volume. At least he hoped it came off as a wink, being that nobody could see his other eye.

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Postby Nevaraon » Thu Sep 13, 2018 9:56 pm

Hobbsy wrote:"Cheers brother. I'm Joseph, what regiment are you with?"

“That thur’s a question now innit? Regiments and formality and whatnot. Marchin two bae twoes in nice neat whatsitis. T’aint make the lick o’ sense that the God Emperor dun gave a Twist. Cha’ know wha I mean? How’s ya gunna kill what needs killing iffen ya too busy walking ta learn how ta put a lasbolt tween the eyes o onna tem swamp owls.” Carmine replied, speaking very quickly and very animatedly. Waving and gesturing to emphasize his points. Suddenly he stopped talking, paused for a moment, then whispered.

“Didda...did that thur Commiewhastit just blink at us? Didjer just jinx us bah calling em by his rank? I ain’t want to ‘Tention from no Commiething.”

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Postby Furbnus » Fri Sep 14, 2018 9:08 am

A groan of sorrow can be heard, followed by "Wh- The frakking Tauroxes!" The voice can be identified as Holland, who is moving towards the main group. The Quartermaster is holding the usual data-slate in his hand as well as Siphon being holstered snuggly on his hip. Today however, a combat shotgun is slung over his shoulder which appears to have been lovingly polished recently, a relic from Holland's days in the breachers, the only thing that appears neat about him. He appears as if he has been awake not 20 minutes, with bags under his eyes and his pajamas worn under poorly equipped flak armor. The man has the air of someone who doesn't wish to be here, and knows everyone else knows as well. "How are we gonna get out there without the frakking Tauroxes?!"

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Postby Hobbsy » Fri Sep 14, 2018 5:25 pm

As Billium began to rattle off, Joseph simply listened to the eccentric man with his arms almost windmilling. Although Billium hadn't really answer his question, the Bacaran understood what he was trying to say. Although now he was suspicious if Billium was even in the guard. As suddenly as he had started, Billium seemed to stop and focus on something over Joseph's shoulder.
Nevaraon wrote:“Didda...did that thur Commiewhastit just blink at us? Didjer just jinx us bah calling em by his rank? I ain’t want to ‘Tention from no Commiething.”

Joseph looked back in the direction of Cat, noticing the small hand gesture. "No worries Billium, you'd have to try pretty hard to have any tention with him. He just wants the chitchat to a minimum.".

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Postby CyGamer » Sat Sep 15, 2018 12:10 am

Standing slightly aside from the group, wearing well worn but polish Kasrkin Carapace armor covered by the standard cold weather raain cloaks everyone got(even if they leaked more than the barracks), sat Krag, looking down at his flamer. He'd been cleaning it for a while, but took note as the cog told Britan? Burtan? Who ever, that the Tauroxes hadn't showed yet. Letting out a sigh and looked over the group. A few he knew, and some he didn't. Well nothing new.
LaxKnight wrote:“How far do we have to go, sir? We could simply go on foot,” Thea just wanted to get going.

Looking over to the guardswoman with a shield and sword-how many people fought with those things?- he thought it was a good idea. Nothing like a march during the cold to warm the blood.

"That sounds like a good idea. Marching's easier than finding some rides, plus you don't get stuck much." Krast said, moving his flamer to his side.
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Postby Fates End » Sat Sep 15, 2018 12:55 am

Anonymity was her friend, on days like this with all the shouting. Medicae Dryden tried to ignore it as best she could. Her orders were to go on the patrol. "Save lives", the Watchmaster had instructed. But there hadn't been anything about shouting over missing vehicles. Within the confines of her gear, she was a mostly anonymous Krieg Grenadier, or close enough that most couldn't tell the difference.

Her gear was so old and battered that it no longer held much of the Chemical stench that usually accompanied the Death Korps. Battered ashen greatcoat and webbing, medical supplies and spare charge packs slipped into pockets and satchels about her person. Her lasgun was equally battered, though well-maintained. Resting comfortably from a worn leather strap about her shoulder. And her mask---oh her mask. Rebreather and helmet, gear to keep her alive in any sort of toxic environment, and helpfully hide her face behind a more appropriate skull design etched into the facemask.

Just another faceless Krieger. She pulled up relatively close to the Commissar and Officers. Halting far enough away to be respectful and not encroach. And then she stood there, waiting for the orders to either move out or a vehicle to show up. She was able, however, to catch the snippets of conversation between the Kasrkin and the Lioness. December opened her mouth to retort how stupid it was to move without transports whilst on patrol . . . .but maybe it wasn't. She actually didn't know what sector they were to patrol. It hadn't really mattered. The Watchmaster had taken her aside and said a patrol was going out and asked that she accompany them.

The Krieger Medicae closed her mouth, unseen in the confines of her gear. And breathed out slowly. Best not to start arguments.
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Postby Riveris » Sat Sep 15, 2018 3:58 am

Wilfred would rub his temple as he heard the discourse around him. He wanted to get this patrol on the move and this was going to bog things down. Patrolling would be so much easier in tunnels. Intersections where bad. if they where coming above you could hear them. Outside was dangerous. It was Cold and wet. With to much to take in at times. Not like the tunnels.

He blinked away his day dream coming back to reality. Catching snippets of talk of marching. "If we march we could send scouts ahead. Have them vox regularly to the group behind. That way if there is an attack we can respond properly. scouts pull back we pull forward" The Sargent put out. As he spoke his hand pulled out from under his bandage an Iho and left it unlit hanging in his mouth.

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