Marcus was sitting at a large old table near the cluster of chimera transports. In the background, welding and maintenance was being performed on the small fleet of vehicles. His booted feet were kicked up on the table, he had a lit lho stick between his fingers, and he was toying with his handgun in his other hand. He had a stack of instruction manuals and small spare parts cluttering the table, along with a mug of caffeine. An old vox caster his team had tinkered with earlier broadcasted music from a nearby system, at full blast volume. Overall, it was a very unprofessional appearance, but hey, why bother when no one gave a damn about the planet? He took another puff from the lho stick as Drex approached with his usual aura of jaded determination. Mark grinned, holstering his pistol to keep the appearace of unprofessionalism but make sure he didn't look like a danger to the whole regiment. He waved a quick salute to his superior from his reclining position on the chair and slowly eased himself into a more attentive stance. He tossed the now depleted lho stick to the muddy ground.

"Hey, Colonel, we finally were able to rig that heavy flamer to the sentinel! It still leaks a little, but, you know, what fuel lines don't leak in this grouping of worst-made fighting machines in the segmentum?" he laughed, but was cut off by Drex's orders.

"Marcus Fen, Get a chimera ready, we got orks on the planet, I'm getting my men prepared, we'll meet you outside, Got it?" he explained.

Marcus sighed, getting up from the table and slamming his fist onto the top of the improvised radio, turning it off. He turned to face his superior, snapped a quick salute and acknowledged him, "We'll be up and running in five! I've always thought my chimera would look good with a green and red paint-job."

He barked out orders to his grease-covered men as he passed between chimeras. The armored corps troopers rushed to their machines and began readying them. All in total, Marcus thought he had maybe.. fifteen chimeras and an old sentinel. He passed by most all of them as he moved around issuing the orders to get ready for battle. They were all highly personalized by their crew, text, symbols, trophies, weaponry, it was all unique for each vehicle. Mark liked it that way, the modifications made them more effective than a usual strictly regimented force in his opinion. They'd be intimidating, and the improvised weaponry usually proved to be deadly effective. He had finally reached his own personal chimera, the "Halfway to Hell". He looked it over quickly before entering. It was his prized possession, painted black with red flames along the front and sides. Its multi-laser had been removed from the top of the vehicle long ago, and replaced with a formidable twin las-cannon. It had had two sponsons added to the side by Marcus and the crew as well. These housed heavy bolters, a normal choice for a sponson, but he had chosen it over flamers for safety reasons. Beneath the heavy bolters was a unique addition though, a multi-barrel grenade launcher. Along with those deadly weapons the chimera housed a smoke launcher, a master vox-caster, and thickened armor with tread guards. Mark closed the crew-hatch behind him after admiring his creation. Clive, Grayson, and Mercur were already inside, readying the chimera. He sat in his own seat, in the center of the small compartment. In front of him was a computer display where he could coordinate his men, not that he ever needed to, though. He usually drove the chimera, and the routine didn't change today.

Marcus activated the master vox, and spoke to the chimera crews. "A'right, we gotta take some of Drex's boys to the front. Lets not screw this one up! Yeah, I'm talking to you, Lax." He turned off the vox, looking to his crew. "We all ready?"

Mercur, their gunner, nodded, "Ye'sah, le's get to it, eh?" He was an older fellow, and most thought too old. He was one of the best with cannons in the whole regiment though, so Mark kept him around.

Grayson, a darker skinned young man saluted, "I'll keep the corps on track." He was the guy to go to for any sort of gadgetry or repairs, if you couldn't handle it yourself. (Which was rare for a Stormwind tank crew-member.)

And finally, Clive. He was punching away at a keyboard next to a group of monitors displaying tactical data. He was considered a computer genius and was the vox-caster and coordinator of the whole armored corps. He nodded after a moment, "Yeah, let's do it so we can go back to break."

Soon, soldiers mounted up in the chimeras, and Clive turned to look at Mark. "Hey, Fen, we got coordinates. Broadcasting them to the fleet, lets get driving." The Stormwind Armored Corps pulled out of the camp in column formation, and into the jungle.