Situation nominal, all fethed up [OW] OOC thread

[*Furyou Miko]

Alright. The Solstice Lunar III are back in action.

 

World:

 

Solstice is a semi-industrialised Knight World with three moons. One of them is Luna Vetitum - the Forbidden Moon. It is not known what happened to the colony there, only that the ancients forbade their descendants from ever travelling there. One of them is a dead rock of little interest, home only to a few ancient communications relays that are no longer functional. The third moon, however, is home to a self-sufficient colony in its own right, although one unique in its make-up. The Solstice Lunar colony is populated entirely by women and children under the age of ten.

 

Every seven months, ships from across Solstice make their way to lunar orbit. These ships contain the best and brightest of Solstice' menfolk, those who have performed well in the selection trials and been chosen to propagate the colony. For one week, the women of Solstice Lunar mingle with the chosen males, representatives from the knight houses and their common-folk vassals. At the end of this Seven Month festival, the ships return to Solstice with the men, who are unlikely to visit the moon again. In addition to those men who came up from the surface, the returning ships bring new workers down, for any male over the age of ten is sent to the planet's surface to serve. If they are lucky, they will be chosen to become a Knight pilot or household warrior. The less fortunate - or skilled - are destined for a life of toil in the fields or in the factories.

 

Meanwhile, the womenfolk return to their lunar colony and their own work, maintaining the algal farms and ancient technology, working on one of the great ships that the moon produces once every ten years, or training to defend their world.

 

The star Solstice orbits produces a strange form of radiation that may have been the original reason the colony was founded on the moon, rather than on the planet below. For whatever reason, energy-based weapons do not function well under its light, no matter how much calibration they undergo. Lasbeams attenuate rapidly, and packet lasers destabilise long before they hit their target. Fortunately, the solution to this particular peculiarity is simple - thus, all regiments and fighting units on or originating from the system are equipped with solid shot ammunition weapons, although it is not unknown for them to trade individual weapons with troopers from other regiments, later claiming the equipment to have been battlefield salvage if pressed. Thus, a handful of Solstice Lunar warriors are equipped with laser, melta or even plasma weaponry.

 

 

Recruitment:

 

On Solstice Lunar, it is seen as an honour to be taken into the Imperial Guard - only women who have successfully carried three children to term qualify for enlistment, and in some cases it is rare for this to be the case before a candidate is thirty and considered too old to join, especially amongst ranger units who are often away from the habs during the Evening of the Seventh festival.

 

The reasons for these unusual requirements are rooted in the history and culture of Solstice. At some point after the world was colonised, it became obvious that fertility rates were dropping for an unknown reason. Records are patchy, much information having been lost during the Age of Strife despite the best effort of the Solstice Knight Houses' efforts to maintain them, but from what can be gleaned, within three hundred years of the planet's settlement, only women who lived and worked on the moon retained the ability to conceive. An immediate policy was put into place, sending as many women as possible to the lunar facility, while the menfolk were moved down to the planet's surface to make room. The lunar mines were already mostly worked out, and the facility was in the process of being converted into a shipyard and starfort. Even so close to the end of the Age of Technology, it was simple enough to alter the direction of the refurbishment to make the facility into a self-sufficient colony in its own right. Ancient devices in the hollow core of the moon increased its apparent density to the point of maintaining an atmosphere, although the knowledge of their maintenance was lost during the Age of Strife and they eventually failed, rendering the moon once more airless. Gravity in the majority of the habs is maintained at a comfortable 1.1 G by newer devices based on those used to maintain a gravitational constant on Imperial startships, but their coverage is spotty - mostly confined to a few, densely-populated city areas.

 

As a result, the soldiers of Solstice Lunar are well versed in low-gravity and void warfare. Their training facilities lie outside the gravity-controlled areas, and many a Solstice Lunar commissar has despaired at ever getting these fighting women accustomed to fighting at 1G. In part, this is an ongoing tradition of breaking in such outsider political officers - once they hit an actual deployment, the guardswomen prove that their aparent pratfalls were a ruse, displaying their skill and confidence as drop troopers and engineers with careful diligence. Despite this mischievous streak, there is often an undercurrent of nostalgia - every Solstice Lunar guardswoman is a mother of three, if not more, children and part of their swearing in as Guardswoman is to never forget what they have brought into the world, and what is is they are fighting for.

 

 

Sunshiners:

 

Of the five Solstice Lunar regiments registered under the Departmento Munitorium, the third are the most well-known. Nicknamed the Sunshiners, they are primarily a sapper regiment, well-versed in building temporary fortifications and tearing them down again. Less officially, they are a rapid response force. The harsh training conditions and nature of the Solstice Lunar transit network mean that these women are particularly skilled at aerial deployment and redeployment. Often deployed in the van of an invasion force, the Sunshiners use their expertise with demolitions and knowledge of defensive fortifications to clear and prepare landing sites quickly, ready for more standard line infantry to follow them in and populate the neatly prepared defensive lines.

 

The official story as to the origin of their nickname is that it arises from the magnesium-laced ablative re-entry shields used by their Valkyries as they launch their initial assaults. As they hit the atmosphere, particularly at night, the magenesium ignites, creating a white-hot flame that fills the sky as though a second sun had risen. This has the twofold effect of wicking away the heat of re-entry, allowing significantly steeper descents than normal, and of blinding any enemies foolish enough to be looking up at the time of the deployment.

 

Unofficially, they're a regiment of pale-skinned, dark-haired women who understand what it's like to go for seven months without a warm bedmate, in theory. What soldier wouldn't consider a deployment alongside them a ray of sunshine, petty fraternisation rules aside?

 

 

Crunch:

 

Solstice Lunar I

Only War regiment

Unspent Points: 2

 

Abilities;

+6 Ag, +3 Per, +4 Int, -3 Fel, +1 Wound

 

Bonuses;

Skill: Awareness

Skill: Common Lore (Tech)

Skill: Linguistics (Low Gothic)

Skill: Operate (Aeronautica)

Skill: Operate (Surface)

Skill: Security

Skill: Tech-use*3

Skill: Trade (Technomat)

Talent: Nerves of Steel

Talent: Technical Knock

Talent: Catfall

Talent: Foresight

Talent: Heightened Senses (Hearing) or Resistance (Cold)

Tunnel Rat (+10 Awareness & Navigation (Surface) underground)

Sapper: +10 Tech Use & Trade (Technomat) to construct or dissasemble a structure

 

Penalties;

Unaccustomed to Light (-10 Perception and Awareness in bright light unless wearing eye protection)

Officially Nonexistent (Doubles on Logistics test always fails)

Lost Time (+1d5 Insanity points)

 

Homeworld (Mining Colony)

3 points

Commanding Officer (Circumspect)

2 points

Type (Drop Troops)

3 points

Doctrine (Sappers)

3 points

Doctrine (Demolitionists)

4 points

Penalty (Warp-Delayed)

-4 points

 

Favoured Weapons

Special: Grenade Launcher

Heavy: Missile Launcher

 

Kit:

1 Uniform

1 set Poor Weather Gear

1 Bullpup Autogun + 4 Magazines

1 Entrenching Tool (1-handed melee - Primitive - 1d10+1 R, Unbalanced)

1 1kg Demo Charge

1 Flak Armour

1 Rucksack

1 set Basic Tools

1 Mess Kit + Canteen

1 Blanket + Sleep bag

1 rechargeable lamp pack

1 grooming kit

1 set of dog tags

1 inspirational primer

2 weeks rations

1 respirator

1 grav chute

2 frag grenades

2 smoke grenades

1 lascutter

1 chrono (2 pts)

1 Antiphoto Goggles (2 pts)

1 Auspex/squad (10 pts)

1 Micro Bead (8 pts)

1 Grapnel (5 pts)

1 Clip/Drop Harness (5 pts)

1 Cyclops Demolition Vehicle per squad

 

 

 

Previous Action: Aldi, Pentecost System.

 

Aldi, Pentecost system, Skyfall plus three seven three.

 

Fifty three weeks, two days and six hours. That was how long it had been since Aldi came under siege. Fifty three weeks, three days and eleven hours ago, Trooper First Class Samuels had been a civilian engineer about to take a big step in his career. Then, on founding day, they had attacked. Nightmares worse than anything he had imagined could exist among the stars.

 

The briefings said that they were called the Tyranid. That their only strength was their numbers, and that even the largest of the beasts could be taken down by his trusty lasgun. It had sounded wrong at the time, but Samuels hadn't dared question the Lieutenant. After the first day of fighting, when their weapons had scythed down thousands of the small weapon-beasts, he had figured out why that propaganda had been disseminated. The unit was trained to fire as a whole, heavy weapons in support of standard arms. The lasbolts confused the beasts, and the squad's support weapons – a little canister-powered grenade launcher and heavy autocannon – were capable of felling the monsters.

 

When the monsters fell, their minions stopped. Only for a moment, but it was enough that what was left of their platoon could manage. They had managed now for just under a local year, however, and the weariness had settled into their bones. Even the Lieutenant had trouble rousing himself from his billet at the start of green watch, and that was a dire sign indeed. They were nearing the end of Red Watch now, and it was all Samuels could do to keep his optical uplink open and connected to the magnocular drone mounted atop the bunker to scan the no-man's-land. The front had been quiet for two days, and the Tyranids launched a major offensive every third from their now surely well-established hives within the Davis Jungle, a mere thirty miles away.

 

A moment later, something unusual happened, and Samuels was having no trouble staying awake. The sky had caught fire. Not the blue-green of a polar aurora, nor the angry red-orange of Tyranid mycetic spores, but an eye-searing, blinding white that temporarily rendered the magnoculars useless until the filters clacked into place over the lenses. Turning his gaze upwards, Samuels willed the device to increase magnification until he could pick out the hawk-shapes of Imperial Valkyries hiding from the heat of re-entry behind sacrificial blocks of reactive metals. The magnesium flare coming off the heat shields prevented him from picking out any details, but it didn't matter. Samuels had seen the burning sky once before, when he had been a young boy barely old enough to attend the Scholum Ecclesiastic. The last time they had come, they had inspired him to become an engineer. This time, they had come in as heralds of salvation.

 

“Sunshiners...” He whispered, the regimental nickname coming easily to his lips and leaving a smile there.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, gentlemen. We make planetfall in one minute.” Colonel Branwen ferch Sion, CO of the Solstice Lunar III regiment, the Sunshiners, addressed her company across the inter-plane comm. “I trust you've read your briefing wafers, but just in case you got hungry on the way, dispersion details to follow. Our landing site is a No-man's land between the front lines and the edge of the bugs' private playground. What's left of the footing has enjoyed the attention of a year's worth of artillery bombardments, so if you didn't sole your boots before we left, try not to embarrass yourselves. The enemy attack is expected in nine hours, so stay sharp. I don't want anyone losing their heads to lurkers. C Company will relieve us at 0800 to finish the job, so it's pits and gashes for us. Any questions?”

 

“Alpha Hotel One? Corporal Sheffer wants to know if they remembered to tell the locals we're coming this time?” Haf Llews' voice crackled over the vox from AT2.

 

“Alpha Tango Two, tell the Corporal that's a safe bet, since no-one's shooting at us yet.” One of the other birds voxed back with a grin in the comm. Operator's voice.

 

“Enough gossiping, Alpha Hotel Two.” Sion sent back to her 2iC's bird. “Llews, you tell Sheff not to worry her pretty little head about the locals. That's my headache. Remember, Sunshiners: We bring the light of the Emperor to these poor sods. Lets give them a show. Alpha Hotel One out.” She passed the handset back to her comm. Trooper, who hung it back on her chest-harness with a wink.

 

“Cold-caller, how does the ground look?” She asked the pilot via intercom.

 

“Wet, Col.” The pilot replied, “Shield's burned through, brace for jettison and retro burn.”

 

“Stand by,” Sion replied, before glancing back at her command section. The Valiant gunship's troop compartment was cramped compared to the Valkyries that carried the infantry sections, and the five women that made up her command section didn't have to reach far to grab the hazard-marked 'salvation grips' that flanked their deployment couches. “Ready.” She told the pilot, grabbing her own salvation handles and bracing her feet against the couch opposite, one boot either side of Commo. Evans' knee while the other woman mirrored her.

 

There was a sudden jerk as the bird seemed to lift, before a moment of weightlessness as it dropped the spent heat-shield fitted under its gear and the pilot fired the retros one last time before opening the air intakes and reconfiguring the Valiant for atmospheric flight. The bird dropped like a stone until the massive turbines mounted atop the cabin finally fired, sucking hungrily at Aldi's thin air and giving the wings purchase once more. With atmospheric configuration came mobility, and Sion could feel the plane banking as the pilot, Cold-caller, took them into a descent spiral. Though Sion could see nothing through the armoured walls of the troop compartment, she knew that Cold-caller's gunner/navigator was scanning the landing site with wide-band auspex and searchlight to make sure they didn't get any little surprises like the one had had killed Bravo Hotel One on Sumit. B Company's command bird had been on an approach just like this one when friendly ack-ack caused by poor communication with local defenders had knocked out her auspex. The Valiant had landed on an Eldar Anti-Armour Mine and the ensuing explosion had incinerated both it and the two Valkyries that had been following it in. That disastrous landing had resulted in the remnants of B Company being folded into A and C. Sheffer had good reason to be nervous about the locals – she had been door gunner for the fourth Valkyrie and watched the whole thing.

 

The cabin lights went out as the red predeployment light clicked on over the aft ramp. The Sunshiners' command section released their safety harnesses and stood, one hand on the salvation grips and the other unlocking their autolaunchers from the magnetic racks between the descent couches. Corpsman Hafwen's Accatran-pattern lasgun stood out from the other veterans' grenade tubes, having been traded with an Elysian two years before in exchange for her Solstice-pattern autorifle.

 

A buzzer sounded, and the rear ramp lowered as the deployment light turned green. The Solstice Lunar Third's command section hit the ground running, fanning out to link up with first and second squad, the entire regiment forming up into a picket line against the darkness, stab-lamps slung below autorifles and autolaunchers piercing the night. The reserve units moved behind the primary line, stringing razor-wire and setting up larger searchlights. The company's valkyries and valiants lifted off as soon as their human cargo was unloaded, circling the area as heavier Sky Talons swooped in to drop heavy containers, sentinel support walkers and Tauros scout vehicles behind the defensive line.

 

In the middle of it all, Sion directed the efforts, the initial guards falling back inside the perimeter, slinging their weapons and arming themselves with axe-like C-25 Entrenching Tools. Within four hours of planetfall, the Engineers had advanced the defensive lines to the edge of the jungle, creating a layered defence network of rockrete-clad trenches and dugouts, backed up with armoured pillboxes and heavy gun nests and watched over by a quickly-deployed series of long range portable scanner units built into signal-boosting bunkers. Within five hours, Colonel Branwen ferch Sion was meeting with Lieutenant Travers, the local area commander, while they waited for the local brass to haul themselves out of their beds.

 

 

Previous Action: Wicker Mountains, Aldi, Pentecost System

 

Skyfall plus three ninety.

 

Turbulence shook the Valiant violently as they flew towards the dispersal zone. The storm had come out of nowhere, purple lightning splitting the sky and black clouds roiling into existence in minutes. There was no doubt that the storm was unnatural, some warp-spawned madness drawn into being by alien minds. Cold-caller, Flight Captain Bronwen Aes, had lost contact with the rest of the wing two minutes ago, and the only clue she had that the other four birds were even still in the air were the occasional glimpses of AH2’s nose peeking through the roiling fog ten meters off the port wing.

 

The auspex was throwing back little but noise, and Harris in the navigator’s seat had taken to operating it in short bursts to avoid the devil’s song of static returns numbing her mind. She sat up suddenly, peering more closely at the round screen set into her console.

 

“Contact, intermittent, thirty miles and closing fast.” She alerted the pilot. “Marked as Bogey.”

 

“I’ve got it.” Aes replied, noting its location on her HUD. “If it’s a bug, we’ll be sitting ducks up here in the clouds. Do you still have eyes on Ay-Aitch Two?” As she asked, a downdraft knocked the Valiant down a few metres.

 

“Negative.” The navigator responded after glancing out the canopy. “We’re on our own.”

 

“Well, that’s just fine.” Aes chuckled, darkly. “I’ll take us beneath the clouds. Lets see what our Bogey is before it decides one of the other birds will make a tasty lunch.” She eased the stick forward, lowering the nose.

 

“Cold-caller, what’s going on?” The colonel’s voice came through the internal commlink.

 

“Storm’s separated us from the rest of Alpha Hotel and we’re picking up a bogey in our operational area. We’ll divert to investigate. Too much risk of it hunting us up here if it’s hostile.” The pilot responded. “Buckle up, it could get bumpy.”

 

“Understood.” The colonel responded, her voice fading as she addressed her squad. “You heard the woman, put that tea set away.” The responding laughter was grim. “Looks like we’re all belted in, Captain. Try not to drop us.”

 

“Do our best, ma’am.” Aes responded, chuckling at the gallows humour and closing the intercom. The clouds thinned until the Valiant broke through completely. She checked the guncam, but the storm was still interfering with the rangefinding and image enhancement, so she tipped the stick, banking the aircraft to eyeball the situation. The jagged, snow-covered peaks of the Wicker Mountains loomed below, far closer than she found truly comfortable.

 

“I see it.” Harris spoke up. “Four o’clock, nap of the earth. It’s Alpha Hotel Four.” The relief in her voice was palpable.

 

“Well spotted. They must have decided to try and get out of the wind.” Bronwen replied, chuckling. “Wait, what’s that? Point one kays abow of her, there’s something wrong with the ground.”

 

“Avalanche?” Harris suggested. The snow did appear to be moving. “She hasn’t seen it...” As she spoke, AH-4 passed over the edge of the disturbed area. Seconds later, the ground erupted into a cloud of dark shapes that swamped the valkyrie in seconds, a swarm of gargoyles mobbing it like jackdaws attacking a buzzard.

 

“Damn.” Ready the guns, we’ll have to rescue them.” Cold-caller decided, tipping the stick and hitting a stall turn to descend on the swarming fliers. The top casing of AH-4’s hull struggled to rise above the mass, small flashes from inside it escaping as the pilot attempted to use her heavy bolter to clear the path.

 

“Autocannons free.” Harris replied. “Slaved to your control stick. I’m picking up a large thermal signature under the snow. Something’s still down there.”

 

“Understood,” Aes replied. “Firing.” She reported, depressing the stud on her left control stick. All six autocannons opened fire, spitting a hail of mass-reactive shells down into the swarm of insectoid aliens and punching a hole in the formation just ahead of the beleaguered assault carrier, which suddenly leapt forward into it and out of the mob as the pilot hit the afterburners, rising from the cloud and incinerating several behind the aircraft. Bronwen eased the stick back, peeling off from the attack run to regain some altitude.

 

“Alpha Hotel Four to Unknown Valiant. That you, Cold-caller?” The vox crackled, the message fuzzed with static and interference

 

“Who else? Get out of there, Callie, they’re regrouping.” Aes replied.

 

“Understood. We’ve got flap damage, and one of my intake guards got ripped off. Gaining altitude’s going to be problematic.” AH-4, piloted by Flight Lieutenant Calwen Sars, replied.

 

“Use the downthrusters, just get out of there. Burn some reaction mass if you have to.” Aes told her, urgently. “We’ll try to keep them off you.”

 

“Understood. Good hunting. Alpha Hotel Four out.” The vox went quiet as the Valkyrie’s VTOL thrusters suddenly lit, the bird rising straight up in a fuel-guzzling manoeuvre that under normal circumstances would be a criminal offence. Aes banked again, lining up for a second attack run. Easing the nose forward into a shallow stoop, she kept one eye on the ground and the other on her erratic rangefinder. The boiling mass of gargoyles was like a single living entity as it turned from its failing pursuit of the crippled Valkyrie to meet this new threat.

 

“Burners ready.” Harris reported. “Cannons loading fine. That thermal mass is on the move.”

 

Aes grunted recognition of the information, waited a moment longer, then squeezed the firing stud, the autocannons spitting a hail of lethal shells into the mass. Just before the swarm engulfed them, she thumbed the afterburners and felt the Valiant leap forward. She kept the firing stud pressed down as the G-forces pushed her back into her seat, the mass-reactive shells cutting a path through the cloud of gargoyles, many being incinerated behind the aircraft as they were caught in its jet wash. Gargoyles – living and half-dead – pelted off the canopy and were deflected by the intake guards, preventing them from being catastrophically drawn into the engines. Three seconds later and they were through the swarm, the ground looming below them rapidly. Bronwen eased the stick back, pulling up from the dive and cut the afterburners. As they reached the bottom of their stoop, metres off the ground, the snow erupted in front of them, forcing a curse from the pilot’s lips as she was forced to throw the nose back down again roughly, then jerk it back up as a giant Tyranid flier burst from the snow, passing less than a metre from the canopy as the Valiant slipped beneath the rising monster. A lesser pilot would have crashed there and then, caught with less than a metre’s total clearance between the Harridan and the snowscape below with the temptation being to pull the nose up too quickly. Aes avoided burying her tail booms by mere inches, climbing rapidly. She kicked the burn in again for two seconds, hurling them up away from the snow and ice and throwing a long plume of powdered slush up behind the plane.

 

“What the hell was that?” Harris asked, scanning the skies frantically.

 

“Banshee.” Aes replied, grimly. “Must be those ‘goyles’ broodmother. I can’t see it, have you got eyes on?”

 

“Ne.. yes, there! Tagged on HUD.” The navigator responded as lightning split the skies. “It’s coming round... does that thing have a ranged weapon?”

 

“Emperor only knows.” Aes muttered. “Keep your eyes on it.” She ordered, extending the flaps to get every ounce of lift out of the wings she could.

 

“It’s glowing. That’s bad, right?” Harris commented. Aes didn’t dare look for herself; she was barely holding the aircraft on course against the turbulence that was battering them and the strains that full throttle was putting on the wings. “Yes, it is.” Harris replied to her own comment. “Evasive action. It’s-“ As she spoke, Aes kicked the thrust vector on the port wing, rolling the Valiant to the left with a shriek of tortured metal. An airbrake tore free from the starboard wing, causing the plane to lurch as it returned to level flight. A glowing ball of bio-plasma streaked through their previous flight path before atomising a three-metre-wide crater in the snowscape.

 

“Guess we won’t be slowing down in the near future.” Bronwen joked, glancing at the wing as warning indicators popped up and an alarm sounded. She silenced it instantly. “Disable the safeties. The old girl’s not going to like this.” She decided, pulling the nose up and turning them towards the peaks and dropping to fly nap-of-the-earth. A chime warned that fuel had dropped to fifty percent. Twenty would be needed to reach the landing zone.

 

“What are you doing? Cap, we’re sitting ducks down here!” Harris yelped, searching the skies for their enemy as they jinked away from another ball of plasma.

 

 

“We’re a Valiant, Harris! We don’t have the manoeuvrability to dogfight a damn Banshee in the air!” Aes replied, harshly as they shot up the mountain side. “Deploy chaff.”

 

“Chaff?! What good’s that going to do?!” Harris demanded, even as she obeyed.

 

“Same thing it does to you.” Aes replied as the glittering strips of silvered paper spread out across the snowscape behind the valiant in a wide vee, tossed and fluttering in the wind. She tipped the wing, firing the vector thruster on that side to shoot the valiant sideways, before firing both thrusters and cutting forward motion to keep them sliding sideways up the mountain without losing momentum. The harridan’s next three balls of bio-plasma buried themselves in the snow, kicking up yet more confusion. Aes continued matter-surfing across the surface of the mountain, forcing the Harridan to fly lower, using careful bursts of all four thrust vectors to control the valiant more than the rudders, barely touching the ailerons at all. Fuel hit thirty percent as they scooted up the mountainside, jinking from side to side to avoid increasingly rapid bio-plasma bolts. As their altitude increased, Aes pushed the engines further, opening them up completely and kicking the afterburners in. They overshot the mountain peak at fifteen hundred kilometres per hour, then Aes c ut forward thrust from the port turbojet, redirecting all its power to the landing thrusters, spinning the valiant around on its horizontal axis. The G-forces crushed her into her seat, the edges of her vision darkening as she came close to blacking out. She forced her throttle controls into position with a long, low growl of effort, reversing thrust in an instant to steady their flight. In front of her, Harris let out a pained whimper and went floppy.

 

The manoever was complete, however, and the Valiant was now skidding backwards through the air, pointing down the mountain. The harridan burst from the cloud of powdered snow, a screaming dragon-form, mouth open and glowing with burgeoning bio-plasma.

 

Aes fired first, unloading seventy five rounds into the beasts’ gullet in three seconds. The mass-reactive explosive shells tore through the harridan, detonating its prepared bio-plasma attack and incinerating its gargoyle payload. Everything went quiet for a few moments, the only sound in Branwen’s ears her own gasping breath, then the world started to come back. There were no less than four alarms sounding in the cockpit. The portside thrusters had overstressed, fuel was down to twenty one percent, all six cannon were down to two rounds apiece and the damaged spoiler warning had cropped up again. With a sigh, she cancelled the alarms, setting the valiant to hover mode for a moment before leaning forward to slap the back of Harris’ helmet until she came round.

 

“Have a nice nap?” She asked the woozy navigator, who just groaned at her.

 

“Next time you plan on pulling a fifteen G turn after a five G acceleration, let me know so I can swallow my tongue first.” Harris groaned. “You probably liquefied our passangers.”

 

“Ah, they’re Solstice, they’ll be fine.” Aes responded, flippantly. “Plot me a course to the LZ, flight lieutenant.”

 

“... Aye-aye.”

 

 

 

Previous Action: Klar Sanctus, The Periphery.

 

The space marines led the way, Librarian Andros lighting the path ahead with the glowing tip of his staff. The women of the Solstice Lunar III A company third platoon followed, weapons held ready, but muzzles down. The twisting labyrinth seemed to go on forever, a terrible sense of dread building as they moved further into the dark maze.

 

The unfinished stone walls gave way to gothic architecture, recognisable symbols becoming visible as the labyrinth opened out into a mausoleum.

 

“This are Ecclesiarchy shrines.” Commo. Jones commented. “We must be near the chapel first squad were holding.”

 

“If your battle brethren were holding a structure ahead, you must count them lost.” Librarian Andros intoned, grimly. “The nexus I am following has formed in the nave of the grand chapel.”

 

“Then they will be avenged.” Corporal Sheffer told him with equal gravity. “And whatever horrors these beasts seek to unleash upon us will be swept away with our vengeance.”

 

“Well spoken.” Brother Gradus gave the small woman a nod. “But this may not be a battle your soldiers can fight.”

 

“With all due respect, brother marine, we pulled your tails out of the fire back at the refinery. Don't discount the power of a normal human just yet.” Lieutenant Morgan spoke up. “Cut the chatter, ladies. Brother-Librarian, how far?”

 

“The nexus is two hundred metres ahead. This passage ends at a flight of steps up to a wooden door. There is a second passage to the left in fifty metres. I suggest you take your women that way and form a perimeter. It likely opens onto the grave field. Brother Gradus and I will assault the ritual. If we fail-”

 

“You won't fail.” Morgan interrupted the Marine, who lowered his massive brow in a frown. “Corporal Lewis, take the heavies and form a perimeter. Sheff, you're with me.”

 

“Yes, ma'am.” The two squad leaders acknowledged, Lewis' third squad and the two support sections double-timing to the left-hand passage.

 

“Lieutenant, while your valour is commendable-” Andros tried again, only to stop at the human woman's level gaze. “I see. If you will not be dissuaded, understand that we may go to face horrors mortal man is not meant to see. Should your hearts fail, there is no shame in turning from a battle such as this.”

 

“Brother-Librarian. We are women of Solstice. Save your inspirational speeches for weak-hearted guardsmen. Sappers, do we fear demons?” She turned to the fourteen women who remained in the passage.

 

“Our only fear is a lack of high explosive.” The assembled guardswomen replied by rote.

 

“Sappers, do we fear witches?” Lieutenant Morgan asked, raising her voice.

 

“Our only fear is a lack of high explosive.” The sappers responded.

 

“Sappers, who are we?” Morgan asked, finally.

 

“We are the Solstice Lunar III regiment! We are Combat Engineers! We are Sunshiners!” Came the resounding reply. Lieutenant Morgan turned back to the space marines.

 

“Lead the way, Brothers. We have a ritual to stop.” She told them, a fierce light in her eyes.

 

“Very well.” Librarian Andros replied, even now sounding sceptical of the guardswomens ability to practice what they preached. None the less, the two marines turned and charged down the corridor, their ceramite boots cracking the steps as they hurtled up them. They broke through the heavy oaken door at the top by virtue of striking it simultaneously with their shoulder-pads at close to thirty miles an hour. The two marines split, each going in a different direction as the Sunshiners ran up the stairs behind them, moving into cover behind the remains of the pews on automatic before they could take in the room.

 

The nave was huge, the arched ceiling at least thirty metres above their ducked heads and almost a hundred metres long. A defaced acquila hung at the northern end of the huge hall, the ancient brass daubed with eye-aching symbols in blue paint and wood varnish that made the beaten metal look gold, turning the majestic double-eagle figure into a cruel-taloned hawk. The aquila's second head lay shattered around the altar, where a Marine in blue and red robes stood chanting, his back to them.

 

The Marines had already killed half the cultists in the room, and the remaining ten went down rapidly to the combined fire of bolter and autogun. With disgust, Myfanwy Iwan noticed that several of them had been using Solstice-pattern weapons, scavenged from the bodies of first squad. A quick count only found nine grey-fatigued women, however.

 

The two marines unleashed a storm of bolter shells at the chanting sorcerer-marine only to watch as they detonated two metres from him against a dome of flickering red energy.

 

“The sorcerer has set up a barrier.” Andros declared. “I will attempt to breach it. Brother Gradus, Guardswomen, concentrate all fire on the traitor as soon as the barrier fails!” He ordered, holstering his bolt pistol to take his force rod in both hands, setting it against the floor and gathering power. Frost began to form at his feet, and the vents on his power pack steamed the air.

 

“Second squad, fan out, load white phosphor! Seers, Llaes, on the gallery!” Lieutenant Morgan ordered her snipers, gesturing them towards the narrow door that would likely lead to the stairs up. “Llael, ApHwyl, Iwan, charges at the base of the shield!” She ordered, before checking her own weapon and loading a hotshot round into the sniper-variant lasgun's stock.

 

Second squad spread around the altar in a loose semicircle, Specialist Aeronwy 'Ronnie' Michaels readying her tube launcher. They went to one knee, ejecting their magazines and replacing them with the white-striped phosphor magazines.

 

“Emily!” Specialist Alis Seers cried from the gallery where she had deployed her sniper rifle. “Major, Specialist Seers from First Squad is still alive! She's inside the barrier!”

 

“Bring that shield down, Librarian.” Morgan told the marine darkly. “Before any more of my troopers die today.”

 

“In nomine imperator, precipi tibi cadunt! Imperator! Imperator! Precipi tibi cadunt!” Andros chanted aloud, lifting his staff, now alive with witchfrost, then slamming it into the floor to send a beam of pure, white light into the flickering red barrier. The barrier slowly began to turn white, or at least that's what it looked like, when suddenly it turned black, the pencil-thin beam of light from Andros's staff turning to pitch moments before the librarian fell to his knees with a crash. Black lightning played around the Marine's psychic hood as it leeched off the disruptive energy in a too-weak attempt to protect his brain from the backlash of the psychic riposte, until finally the blue-clad giant fell forward onto the ground with an earth-shaking crash.

 

“Stay focussed, Sunshiners!” Morgan ordered. “Witchcraft has failed. Do not waver, for we have explosives! Myfanwy, detonate charges.”

 

“With pleasure.” The comm. Trooper replied with a grimace, triggering the remote detonator she carried. The three shaped melta-charges the command section had placed detonate against the base of the barrier with a crump and a hiss of super-heated air, but the shield remained strong with the opaque darkness it had stolen from the Librarian's assault.

 

“Your...attempts...are...useless...” A low, hissing voice told them as one of the cultists' corpses jerked upright as though lines were attached to its shoulders. “The...shield...is....strong. No...mortal...weapon...may...injure...it...” The corpse jerked around, lifting into the air to stare directly at Alis Seers. She put a round between its eyes, but it just laughed at her.

 

“Join...us...Alis....” It hissed, but it almost sounded like her sister's voice. It was softer, meant only for Alis' ears, though Blodwen was close enough to overhear him. “Everything...will...be...clear... Your...life...and...hers...together...forever...in...Tzeentch's...garden...” At the dread god's name, Llaes let out a strangled cry and started clawing at her own head, her eyes slowly filling with blood until she passed out.

 

“No.” Alis Seers snarled back, waiting as the corpse drifted closer. When it was just outside arms reach and lifting its hands towards her, she reversed her grip on the sniper rifle and swung the weapon so that the collapsible stock smashed the corpse's head open like a ripe melon.

 

“Impressive..” The remaining corpses, save the Marine librarian's, began to jerk upright, surrounding the guardswomen and the lone marine as they spoke with a single voice. “But futile. My master is coming, and your lives are counted in minutes!” The corpses laughed, a maddening, deafening sound.

 

“Second squad! Incincerate them.” Corporal Lesley Sheffer ordered, and the infantry of her command turned their autoguns on the corpses on single-shot, each putting a single white phosphor round into a corpse-head until every dead thing in the room was a ruined, burned mess.

 

“We don't have much time.” Morgan decided. “Everyone, I want this entire building mined. Tube charges, melta bombs, plastique. Whatever you've got that goes boom, I want it wired. Myfanwy, call up Overwatch and tell them we have a target at our location and will be painting. Brother Gradus, will Brother-Librarian Andros be safe to move?”

 

“The brother-librarian is dead, little woman.” Gradus replied in his grating, echoing voice. “What do you hope to achieve with mere explosives when his Emperor-given powers have failed?”

 

“Witchcraft is witchcraft. But fire cleanses everything. If you cannot move him, observe your rites, Brother-Marine.” Lieutenant Morgan told him, uncowed despite his being twice her height and more than five times her body mass even without the power armour.

 

“I shall.” Gradus nodded, after staring at her for a moment through impassive eye-lenses. He knelt beside the librarian's body and lifted him, carrying the valuable corpse out of the corrupted chapel and outside the cordon of heavy weapons and autoguns fielded by the sunshiners in the grave field.

 

“The barrier is weakening.” Seers reported from the gallery.

 

“Overwatch reports readiness for strafing run in two minutes, Major.” Myfanwy spoke up.

 

“We'll have to keep whatever he's calling up busy until then.” Morgan told her soldiers. “Fan formation, prepare to unleash our vengeance!” She ordered. The remaining Solstice troops spread in a semicircle around the again-transparent barrier, topping off their phosphor rounds in the last seconds.

 

The chaos sorcerer lifted a ritual dagger, and Alis Seers forced herself to remain calm, her scope centred over his head as he prepared to kill her sister. Her twin.

 

Everything seemed to happen at once. The sorcerer brought the dagger down, carving Emily Seers' heart out and setting it afire in front of her still-living eyes. The ruined woman on the altar screamed her pain, defiance, and the name of the Emperor. The flickering red barrier expanded, sweeping out past the boundaries of the chapel, casting everything in a bloody light populated by dancing shadows. The chaos sorcerer lifted his hands in exultation as a multi-hued orb span into existance above Emily's cooling body before expanding, larger and larger, until it unfurled itself to reveal a serpent-bodied, bird-winged daemon with four wicked talons and a bird's-skull head. The greater daemon clasped a staff topped with a bone sickle, which it lifted as it cackled, gazing around at the gathered guardswomen. Its thin body was covered in a mockery of white robes, gilt-edged and jangling with golden tokens.

 

“Stand firm!” Lieutenant Morgan cried, forcing her own gibbering terror down along with her rising gorge. “Show this monster why they call us the Sunshiners! Bring the dawn!” She ordered, followed by a double-crack as both her hot-shot las round and Alis' vengeance sniper shot struck the Thousand Sons Sorcerer's head simultaneously, causing it to explode and ending an existence of evil spanning ten thousand years.

 

As she gave the order, the remaining Sunshiners opened up with their weapons on the daemon itself. Specialist Beth Jones' flamer engulfed the creature until it rose out of her reach with a lazy sweep of its midnight pinions, only to catch a krak rocket from Ronnie's tube launcher in the stomach. The smoke from the explosion cleared, revealing an unharmed daemon cackling as it rolled over in the sky, a bolt of coruscating lightning reaching out to render the heavy weapon specialist down to ash. The specialist's scream acted as a catalyst, and the remaining Sunshiners opened fire with their rifles on full auto in two salvoes, the eye-burning white phosphor rounds scything into the robed daemon until the command squads' magazines were empty, the fullisade being taken up by second squads' troopers while the command squad reloaded, then trading off again back to standard loads when the white phosphor ran out.

 

The bullets rattled off the daemon's flesh, searing feathers and raising a cackling scream of pain or rage. The daemon dived to the ground to evade the constant stream of gunfire, only for a row of red lights beneath it to betray the locations of a series of proximity-rigged tube charges. The explosion hurled the demon back up into the air, back into the sights of the gathered infantry.

 

“Manoeuvre six!” Morgan ordered, sending a hot-shot round at the creature's hand, knocking the staff from it as Seers double-tapped the shot. Pink fire lashed out from the daemon's eyes, incinerating two troopers as they backed towards the chapel doors.

 

Brother Gradus flung those doors open, charging into the nave with a savage cry and hurling himself up at the daemon with a battle roar almost as loud as the twenty-foot serpent's cackling laughter. The Marine bore it to the ground, attempting to break its arms by forcing them too far behind it, but the daemon only laughed more, before snapping at Gradus' head with its monstrous beak. Its arms bent bonelessly until it was grasping the marine's wrists itself even as he held its elbows, before snapping its arms apart as if to rip the battle brother in half.

 

Myfanwy hit the detonator for the bank of melta charges directly under the greater daemon, hurling the Lord of Change back into the air and stripping its wings of feathers. The daemon lost its grip on Brother Gradus, flinging him back outside just as the remaining Guardswomen reached the doors. Alis Seers dragged the still-unconscious Blodwen Llaes out through the side-door.

 

“Overwatch reports Strafing run incoming. Requests target painting.” Second Squad's commo, Haf Llews reported.

 

“Relay target co-ordinates: Witch-shield, 404.403/110.201. Paint negative.” Morgan replied. “Hammer it until it goes down.”

 

TOE

 

Solstice Lunar III, 'Sunshiners'

 

Solstice Lunar Regiments consist of 1-3 Companies led by a Colonel, usually the commander of A Company.

 

The Sunshiners are under-strength, consisting of two Companies led by Colonel Branwen ferch Sion of A Company and Major Lynn Ewan of C Company. B Company was ruined by Eldar guerillas on Sumit and the survivors folded into the other two to replace casualties.

 

Major – Company Commander

Captain – Company 2iC

Lieutenant – platoon commander

Sergeant – Platoon 2iC

Corporal – Squad Leader

Corpsman – Squad Medic

Specialist – Musician, or Special or Heavy Weapon

Trooper – Enlisted woman

 

Flying Captain – Leader of a flying section

Flight Lieutenant – Pilot or Navigator/Gunner of a Valkyrie, Valiant, or Vendetta

Warrant Officer – Pilot of a Sky Talon

 

Each Company consists of 1 C&CS (Command and Control Section), 1 ISTARS (Intelligence, Surveillance, Target Acquisition, Reconnaissance and Sabotage), 4 Platoons, and 2 S3 (Support Sentinel Section). They may be expanded with additional resources depending on the combat theatre, most commonly additional Valiant gunships and Cyclops demolition remote vehicles. More occasionally, they will be outfitted with Tauros and Tauros Venator scout vehicles, which can easily be modified into light troop and materiel transports.

 

Each C&CS contains 1 AC (Area Command), 1 JC (Junior Command) 2 IS (Infantry Squads), 1 S2 (Support Squad), 3 VAC (Valkyrie Assault Carrier) and 2 VaG (Valiant Gunships) or VeG (Vendetta Gunships)

 

Each AC contains 1 Major, 1 Corpsman, 1 Comm. Officer and 3 Specialists. A Company's AC's CO holds the rank of Colonel instead of Major.

 

Each JC contains 1 Captain, 1 Corpsman, 1 Comm. Officer and 3 Specialists.

 

Each IS contains 1 Corporal, 1 Corpsman, 2 Specialists, 1 Comm. Trooper and 7 Troopers.

 

Each S2 contains 1 Corporal, 1 Comm. Trooper, and 4 Specialists.

 

Each ISTARS contains 1 ICS (Intelligence Command Squad) and 5 ST (Scout Teams)

 

Each ICS contains 1 Lieutenant and 1 Comm. Officer.

 

Each ST contains 1 Comm. Trooper and 1 Specialist, usually a Sniper.

 

Each Platoon consists of 1 PCS, 3 IS, 1 S2, 3 VAC and 2 VaG

 

Each PCS contains 1 Lieutenant, 1 Sergeant, 1 Comm. Officer, 1 Corpsman, and 2 Specialists.

 

Each S3 consists of 1 SCS (Sentinel Command Squadron), and 2 MSS (Mechanised Support Squadrons).

 

Each SCS contains 1 Lieutenant, 1 Sergeant, 1 Comm. Officer and 1 VST (Valkyrie Sky Talon). The Comm. Officer pilots a special ECM Sentinel with a long-range Vox system.

 

Each MSS contains 1 Sergeant, 2 Corporals and 2 VSTs. Note that they do not include Comm. Officers, as their vehicles have inbuilt short-range vox systems.

 

C&C: 38 Fighting + 10 Flying + 50 Ground

ISTAR: 12 Fighting

Platoon 1: 42 Fighting + 10 Flying + 50 Ground

Platoon 2: 42 Fighting + 10 Flying + 50 Ground

Platoon 3: 42 Fighting + 10 Flying + 50 Ground

Platoon 4: 42 Fighting + 10 Flying + 50 Ground

S3 1: 9 Fighting + 6 Flying + 75 Ground

S3 2: 9 Fighting + 6 Flying + 75 Ground

 

Total: 286 Fighting + 62 Flying + 400 Ground

 

Total manpower per company: 740

 

 

Valiant:

 

The Valiant Gunship is the natural result of the Solstice energy field. A variant on the popular Vendetta Gunship, the Valiant replaces that craft's six lascanons with autocannons. While this reduces the aircraft's overall anti-tank capabilities, the higher rate of fire and potential for specialised ammunition deployment has seen the design's popularity spreading to other airborne units.

 

[Kastor Krieg]

Nice. Thanks! Will dig into that after I move :)

[Captain Nameless]

How necessary is it to have the uplifting primer? I'm interested in joining this, but I haven't been able to find a reasonably priced copy.

[Doctor Perils]

The 18th Sudenni Skyguard were one of the last of the first Founding of Sudenne as a Fortress World. In an ideal world, troops would have been distributed evenly among all the regiments, in order to insure the overall quality of each and every one of them.

Unfortunately for the 18^th, this was not the case for them: they instead would only receive the most junior of the conscripts, as the more experienced PDF forces joined the first regiments instead. At their inception, the 18^th were a mere rag-tag bunch of underworlders bought up in the ancient gas-fields, weak men and those pilots that had been known to crash their airships on repeated occasions.
Nevertheless, the majority of the new guardsmen met the strict demands of the Imperial Guard, and the 18^th flew off to the stars, in the shadow of their more veteran brothers. Whereas the other Sudenni regiments would start amassing glory in the name of their homeworld, the 18^th – who had somehow earned the sobriquet “Laughing Stock” – seemed to remain forgotten, despite holding the lines that the Astra Militarum asked of them.

For years they continued to do their duty, rarely receiving praise as little was asked of them but they die in the name of the God-Emperor. Their demeanour however would take a turn for the worse, as members of other Sudenni regiments decided to make a joke of them, by carving jokes and insults into the stocks of their lasguns to give them literal “Laughing Stocks”. This jape would take a turn for the worse as the commissariat and the department munitorum discovered the mutilated equipment, and condemned each and every man of the regiment to be flogged publicly. A mild sentence, considering the recommendations of the Munitorum Handbook, yet it brewed resentment on the part of the 18^th towards their brother regiments.

When the other Sudenni Regiments appeared at the next battle wearing combat gear dyed a uniform pink, the colonel of the 18^th was accused and summarily shot, in order to cut short the brewing vendetta. To further diffuse the situation, the Sudenni 18^th was finally disassociated from other Sudenni regiments, and were sent to a completely new warzone under the command of the newly-promoted Colonel Eugene Hargrave.

When the Imperium discovered large deposits of Promethium and Helium on Sudenne, its inhabitants still relied on such primitive tools as gunpowder and airships.

Within a few years, the Adeptus Mechanicus had created installations to extract the precious fluids, bringing with them more advanced vehicles and tools, yet the Sudenni seemed to prefer the old ways, as they retained the use of their immense airships, despite certain modifications.

As is so often the case though, the increased riches of the planet soon drew unwanted attention: for Sudenne, this would take the form of an Eldar Corsair raid, who descended from the heavens upon their unnatural craft, reaping the lives of loyal humans and capturing the resources for themselves. As they left, only rubble and the weeping survivors remained in their wake.

The Sudenni, however, rebuilt; this time, their world would not remain inactive! Demanding new fortification technologies of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the homeworld of the Sudenni rapidly transformed into a fully industrialised bastion, airships patrolling the skies, and men patrolling the thousand-foot high battlements.

The next time the elder attacked, they were pushed back. And the next. And the next. Each time they destroyed more lives and infrastructures then their previous try, but each time the Sudenni learnt more about fighting them and protecting their world.


Two thousand years have passed since the first attack of the Corsairs known as the Wyrd Vultures, and, though the resources of Sudenne have long since dried up and the Adeptus Mechanicus extraction forces left, its fortifications mean that it has remained an important world, especially as the Inquisition now believe some kind of Webway Rift to be located nearby.

Once a mere civilised world, then a mining world, Sudenne’s situation in Imperial Bureaucracy once again changed a century ago, as it was named as a true Fortress World. In those hundred years, 25 regiments of siege and mechanized infantry have been founded, and are now being sent from one end of the galaxy to another.

Commanders
Colonel Charles Quick
Founding officer of the Sudenni 18^th. His command was viewed lacklustre at best, further contributing to the regiment’s bad reputation.

Colonel Edmund Blackburn
Second officer of the Sudenni 18^th. The regiment started to truly make a name for itself under his command through cunning tactics and insightful inspiration. Unfortunately, the regiment’s reputation was already set, leading to other regiments taking the jokes a bit too far, which got all men of the 18^th a public flogging. Blackburn was accused of leading the party that dyed their rivals’ uniforms as mild vengeance, and was summarily executed.
Within the 18^th, he is still fondly remembered as the man who started turning the regiment around. It is also in the line of his conduct that many men of the 18^th are now seen as troublemakers, not in violence but in bad pranks.

Colonel Eugene Hargrave
Hargrave is the current commanding officer of the “Laughing Stock” Regiment. Chosen in the aftermath of Blackburn’s execution, higher officers liked his set and square methods of command: where his predecessor had at times been unruly, Hargrave was meticulous, and imposed a rigid structure to the regiment, ensuring that none would mutiny or revive the errors of the past.
It may have taken time, but Hargrave is respected by his men, if not very well liked. Though the older soldiers still say they prefer the “good old day” under Blackburn, Hargrave is still the main reason that the regiment still exists today.

Major Mat Picker

Eleven Squad
Sergeant Ernest Matherson (Sergeant)
When among his fellow sergeants of Sudenne, Matherson provides a stark contrast from the moustaches and monocles. Clean shaven, serious yet ready to joke, many view him as a reflection of the deceased Colonel Blackburn. Though he privately prefers Colonel Hargrave’s method of command, he discretely encourages the men to make the comparison with Blackburn, as his commanding officer, Major Picker, was a staunch supporter of Colonel Blackburn, barely escaping the firing squad himself during the debacle of the pink dye.

Corporal Jim (Weapons specialist)
No one remembers Corporal Jim’s surname, least of all himself. This jovial, heavy-set man wears a beard that only just passes his own very loose definition of Imperial Guard regulations. Though his men adore him, he can also prove himself very capable of command when the need arises.

Corpsman Walter “White” Linton (Medic)
The squad’s medic grew up in the light-deprived underworlds of Sudenne’s exhausted gas-pockets. His upbringing not only gave him the unhealthy compulsion to replace any iron or steel in his equipment with brass or bronze, it also left him with a lifelong drug addiction. Although his nickname “white” officially comes from the white medic arm band that denotes his rank, it really comes from the colour of his favoured Obscura.
On the battlefield he is notably dour and depressed, probably from being deprived from Obscura for too long, though possibly because he reflects too long on the mortality of his charges.

Rifleman Derek “Crash” Avery (Operator)
The twitchy, mouse-like Avery is a superb pilot of airships and land-vehicles alike – that is, when he isn’t caught by epileptic seizures. As a young operator for a major transport company of Sudenne, he convulsed while at the commands of a large airship, causing a crash and the loss of all the cargo: needless to say, he was immediately fired, and was unable to find another job. He therefore enlisted in the PDF, and was sent off with the 18^th Skyguard when the next Imperial Guard recruitment year came around. Though not as strong of arm or will as his squadmates, his expertise when it comes to piloting vehicles has proved itself vital several times in the past years.

Rifleman Osbert Priestley (Heavy Weapons Specialist)
A gamer and gambler, Priestley saw his fair share of brawls from a very young age. His brawn came in handy when people demanded he pay up his debts, or when he demanded the same of others. Though some believe that he joined the Imperial Guard in order to escape the debt-collectors of a significant cartel on Sudenne, the reality is that he wished to use his musculature for the good of the Imperium of man. This, coupled with a keen eye, made him a good candidate to become a heavy gunner, and he now mans the squad’s missile-launcher.

Rifleman Alec “The Wood” Woodward (Weapons Specialist)
The Regiment’s most notorious womanizer, Rifleman Woodward can most often be found in some woman’s bed or in commissariat jail for being found in a woman’s bed when off the battlefield.
In combat situation, he becomes oddly protective of Rifleman Avery, referring to himself as the pilot’s “wingman”.

Rifleman Kevin “Kev’” Varley (Weapons Specialist)
Rifleman Varley was a born clown, pulling pranks on his squadmates and other soldiers alike. However, once on the battlefield, he knows when to shut up, and follows Priestley around like his shadow, lugging the crate of spare missiles for Priestley’s heavy weapon.

Rifleman Nathan “Ol’” Evered (Weapons Specialist)
The stern-natured Evered is known to be particularly pious, and holds the Imperial Infantryman’s Uplifting Primer in high regard, despite knowing from personal experience that most of the information contained within is a steaming pile of grox-waste.

[Kastor Krieg]

How necessary is it to have the uplifting primer? I'm interested in joining this, but I haven't been able to find a reasonably priced copy.

How many Guard novels have you read? Gaunt's Ghosts? Ciaphas Cain (less the lighter note, I'm after the background)?

[Captain Nameless]

I've read some of the Gaunt's Ghosts books. It's been awhile though, but I think I have an idea of the kind of atmosphere you're going for.

[Nysse]

With real life getting in the way I didn't stumble upon this thread before, but if there's still space I'd be interested in joining up. I've read the Uplifting Primer in the early 00's when it came out, but did manage to acquire one from eBay yesterday at a bargain price. Now if it would only arrive

How often do you plan on having the game run? A post every day, twice a week, once a week?

I'm thinking of creating a reconnaissance element trained at providing intel on enemy movements within 10-20km behind combat lines and disrupting supply and other targets of opportunity. More or less modeled after the type of unit I served in.

4th Karelian Jägers "Huntsmen"

Homeworld Frontier World

Commanding Officer Choleric

Regiment Type Light Infantry

Doctrines Infiltrators

Special Equipment Chameleoline

Drawbacks The Few

Equipment

Favoured Basic Weapon Long Las

2 weeks rations

Magnoculars

Additional Uniform for field use

Vox-Caster (if the Commissar-General deems it appropriate. 1 for the squad. No real option for buying only one, but would like to add it as standard squad equipment instead of mission specific. No real point in recon if you can't transmit information) Screamers for camp security would be a reasonable substitute if a vox-caster is considered normal mission specific-gear that's more or less always allocated if they are on a reconnaissance mission.

As an additional note, I'm based in Europe so it might cause some timezone related delays

[Doctor Perils]

As an additional note, I'm based in Europe so it might cause some timezone related delays

 

This shouldn't cause any problems since it is a play-by-post game, so we don't need to all be present at the same time

[*Furyou Miko]

With three euros and two americans, it's hardly going to be us that need be worried about getting left behind, heh.

[Kastor Krieg]

Replies will be a minimum of 1-2 a week, with a maximum maybe as well so that some do not outpace others.

[Captain Nameless]

I have an idea I like, but how well does a squad that has the dubious honor of guarding an imperial psyker, (my explanation for why there would be one in the squad), fit with what is intended for this campaign?

[Brother Tholath]

Works for me this that posting schedule, should allow for some good posts!

 

Krieg, question, do you want us to post the squads up as well soon?

[Kassill]

Sorry, been busy this weekend. I'll try and have something up tonight

[Kastor Krieg]

I have an idea I like, but how well does a squad that has the dubious honor of guarding an imperial psyker, (my explanation for why there would be one in the squad), fit with what is intended for this campaign?

Guarding, as in being the bolt pistol to his head, but otherwise trying to employ the freak as a force multiplier / defense against the Warp? Fine idea.

 

Works for me this that posting schedule, should allow for some good posts!

 

Krieg, question, do you want us to post the squads up as well soon?

Yep, let's get to it.

 

Sorry, been busy this weekend. I'll try and have something up tonight

No worries, not a huge rush. I technically moved already, just fired the computer up. Won't be able to dedicate myself to running / writing before Sunday I think (Saturday is my belated birthday / new hearth party).

[*Furyou Miko]

I'll start putting together the squad then. I was waiting for the okay on the regiment design. ^^;

[Captain Nameless]

Guarding, as in being the bolt pistol to his head, but otherwise trying to employ the freak as a force multiplier / defense against the Warp? Fine idea.

Exactly.

In that case I'll finish up the regiment and make a squad.

As the regiment stands:

homeworld: highborn

commander: phlegmatic

regiment type: hunter-killer, though line infantry keeps coming to mind

training doctrine: hardened fighters

special equipment doctrine: augmetics

Any comments as I finish this up?

[Teetengee]

Need/want any bad guys? (if so, I will have lots of reading to do... :))

[Kastor Krieg]

No, I'd rather have white / grey characters.

Miko, apologies, but I barely had the time to read a thing yet, please bear with me (roar).

[Black Cohort]

I am struggling to find time to flesh out my regiment and build a squad of characters.  I have no issues with you giving my spot to someone else.

[*Furyou Miko]

I'm going to be out of contact over the weekend, most likely. Sorry. I'll check back on monday.

[Kastor Krieg]

No worries, only getting warmed up.

[Doctor Perils]

So, here's the doctrines for the 18th Sudenni Skyguard:

 

Fortress World - Sudenne

Fixed Leader - Colonel Eugene Hargrave

Siege Infantry

Anti-aircraft training

 

Additional Standard Kit:

Photo-visor,

Chrono,

Advanced Medikit (/squad)

Autopistol

 

 

@Kastor Krieg: As the short fluff I wrote for them implies that they have a rivalry with the other regiments of their homeworld, but that they have been separated off from them on the galactic map, should I include the "Regimental Rivalry" Drawback or not? I think this sort of depends on what you want to do with the campaign and the story, so I didn't want to jump the gun.

[Kastor Krieg]

Yeah, go ahead and use that if you want.

An idea came up - if you want to put a self-deprecating pun on the Regiment, they may have gotten to carving smiles (one or one for each kill maybe) into the stocks of their rifles, or maybe painting them into elaborate Harlequinesque motifs (maybe after a brief brush with Eldar Harlequins?), literally making them "laughing stock". Some way of winning back renown if they pick the custom up further down the road, maybe?

[Doctor Perils]

Yeah, go ahead and use that if you want.

 

An idea came up - if you want to put a self-deprecating pun on the Regiment, they may have gotten to carving smiles (one or one for each kill maybe) into the stocks of their rifles, or maybe painting them into elaborate Harlequinesque motifs (maybe after a brief brush with Eldar Harlequins?), literally making them "laughing stock". Some way of winning back renown if they pick the custom up further down the road, maybe?

I had thought about this, but if tampering with Munitorum property gets the whole regiment punished which starts off the rivalry in the first place, it seems quite weird that they would start doing it again ?

[Kastor Krieg]

See, I glossed over that paragraph somehow and came up with basically the same idea.