As the barrels of the human's weapon started to spin, whatever good nature that was on Khaz's face disappeared; While Khaz might have come from a primitive society that had yet to discover the joys of firearms or the instinctive terror that came with them, he wasn't an idiot. Some of the orks had wielded weapons that looked rather similar to the one the clearly deranged human was currently carrying and he had seen first hand the damage they could do to the poor bastards unfortunate enough to be hit by them... and this lunatic was pointing one at himself and his kind because he couldn't control his own blood lust. Only the blood thirsty Minotaurs were insane enough to turn on their own allies solely because there wasn't anything else to fight...

While he doubted the human himself heard it due to the noise he was making, Khaz heard the sound of a bow string being pulled back somewhere behind him. While he preferred his sword, Khaz had seen the damage that a skill tribal hunter could do with one of their great bows; It was comforting to know that if this went badly the human would get a large arrow through something vital before he could do too much damage. Still... the fool only wanted a fist fight to sate his madness without anyone being killed...

With an annoyed grunt, he removed his sword from his side and stuck it into the ground, glaring at the human as he started to approach. "Very well. If it is a fight you want then a fight you will get, bull headed one." A grave insult, but one he doubted the human would understand the full meaning behind.



@Andreyich

A strong skin stinging light touches Persephone’s now darkened skin. Their sun glares down on them as they continue to gather some of the plants that was said to be required in order to fulfill their quota. However, familiar clicking sounds were heard surrounding her. She tried to ignore it in hopes that it was stalking something else that is not her . She continued gathering for the next minute till she heard a familiar choked snarl on her side. Her small body flinches and they fall to her side as a familiar voice bellows them to come to them. It was her father. She was in their oasis again. Persephone felt like she had been here before but could not place it. She only knew that she should run.

Run…

…r un…

…r u n…

Alas she seemed to remain in place.

A mysterious sense of dread came over her. Persephone felt like she was expecting something loud, shots? Ah yes. There’s her father’s shouts telling her to get back, then the dragging, more shots, then wet sounds of flesh being torn with accompanied by her father’s screams of pain. Her eyes never saw what happened but she didn’t need to see to know. Besides, she could barely see the ground that she were running on. It also meant that she never saw another Draglik come in from her right, tackling her to the ground and everything goes black…

---

She rouses from her slumber by lurching forward and panting erratically while, covered in cold sweat. Pain suddenly came from her shoulder and she clutched the area but she did not feel flesh. It was hard and metallic. She looked to her side and her face darkens when she realized that it was no longer her arm. The sounds of pained Guardsmen and the distant sounds of war outside made her realize that she was indeed in the infirmary. Now her mind races back to previous events and she realized that she lost it when she made a foolhardy attempt to battle an Ork in melee combat. It was definitely a stupid move, but what’s done is done. However, it still took her a while to acknowledge that she had lost their arm, and the pain on her face also told her that she definitely almost lost an eye too… or her life. Another flash of pain hits her and she clutched the location where flesh meets metal. The fairly disabled Guardsman curls into a fetal position where she eventually fell into another deep sleep.

---

It had been a few days, maybe. It’s hard to tell when one keeps fading in and out of lucidity. Persephone was handed a triple skull medal and multiple alcohol rations, before being told that they had won. She was also told that some of her mates survived and are outside somewhere getting drunk. It was one of the best news that she received ever since she woke up regardless of how fairly bittersweet it is. The medics had also finally calibrated the arm enough to make her feel minimal discomfort. Thankfully it just feels odd now than anything. With that, Persephone gets kicked out discharged from the infirmary since she was able function without much aid (and they didn’t mind this at all). Stagnation can be mind-numbing too, anyway, despite how welcomed it may be at times.

Clutching on to her rations, she excitedly headed towards the dim lighting that was supposed to be where the ‘party’ is in. Needless to say, she immediately surrendered one alcohol ration card and hungrily consumed their first drink, bottoms up. It tasted like piss but the kick was great. When she finally decided to regard her surroundings she realized that there were people and one of those cat people kicking what seemed like an Ork... head? A fire spit with an Orky dog, and something else that was being crowded around on in the farther corners of the camp. Maybe it was someone flashing their breasts? She couldn’t miss that. She gulped down the drink that she was holding and got another to (slightly wobbly) carry towards the small converging crowd. She realized that two of the Wisps, Marco and Taiel, was part of the crowd as they neared it and she didn’t hear any cheerful sounds. What hits her instead is what sounded like an enraged guttural scream, and the shadow of a large looming creature. She instinctively held on to their Hija’s hilt and circled the location to avoid detection. Taiel notices Persephone trying to silently stalk the location and gestured to them that it was unnecessary. Persephone tried to relax and cautiously walked towards her mates to see those goat-men being aggravated by what looked like a man angrily, but smugly, snarling at the abhuman. The Wisps looked at each other, all wondering whether or not this will end well for their party.

Ninke couldn't help but smile as she watched the scene around her. Guardsmen reveling in their victory, happy faces all around. The Cadian she had been speaking to had even started to take part in somekind of ball game started by a Guardswoman who looked a bit odd, but at this point Ninke hardly cared. She took several more swigs of her amasec, slow and small at first but as she went she drank more and more until her flask was empty and she frowned a bit, turning it upside down to make sure it was all gone. She quickly devorued the rest of the spicy red meat from the squig, gulopoing the meat down hungrily heedless of the grease that dribbled down her chin and onto her poncho, smiling at the taste. She began walking over to those fancing about the fire with new liquid courage in her veins... which was when the Commissar arrived.

Even the drunkest Guardsmen stopped for a moment when he appeared, fear and trepidation filled the air as Ninke gulped, worried aboout what he would do... but such was not needed. With a warm smile and a question to join in was met with cheers and the music being turned back up and Ninke smilling and laughing despite the cold stings against her scars... she supposed then everything might just be alright. It was then that the ork head rolled towards her, stopping at her legs as hit bonked against them. She smiled and looked down... the snarling face of an ork staring back up at her.

All at once Ninke's smile dissapeared, color draining from her face as she stood over the macabre ball that glared up at her... she couldn't move for a good few moments. Slowly though, her face darkened. Suddenly the little pin pricks of the cold air against her scars felt like agony endless, the aching of her metal limbs seemed to weigh all the heavier on her and the party dissapeared. She was at the breach... no the ork trap... no the cathedral. The Snarling, shouting and screaming greenskins laughing and cutting down everyone she ever knew. Sergeant Boers, Privat Teks, Commissar Jarack, Lt. Aveeris, the cadian whose name she never learned... Belgond... tears streemed down her face, catching in the webbing of her scars. She lifted her left foot but did not kick the ball, instead she stomped it. Hard.

A harsh crack sounded as she smashed its nose. Then she did it again. And again. again. She kept stomping on the ork skull heedless of the metal that had been added, cracks sounding as her bionic leg fractured the bones in the orks face and dented the metal that had been added. She stomped for Boers, Jarack, that Cadian, her scars and her limbs... and Belgond. She started screaming, the music loud enough to drown it out for anyone near the fire. Then with a last scream she finally kicked it away as hard as she could, the 'ball' sailing through the air, the orks snarling face now a mess of cracked bone, dented metal and even more deformed than before. She slowly calmed, looking up at the Cadian woman, the felinid, the man from a regiment she hadn't known and the commissar... then she turned.

She had fucked up. Why had she done that? What was that? She started clumsily running away, tears blinding her as she stumble-ran away with alcohol still running through her veins. She had no idea she was running straight towards what was about to be a fight between human and abhuman. getting in between them would most likely be a bad idea but she could not tell where she was going.

@Bright_Ops
When he saw them pull out their bows, he internally laughed a little. The heavy-stubber would be able to rip through a whole platoon especially in the open before the arrow even hit him, and if he died the Ministorum Priest in charge of his section of the Frateris Militia would personally execute them with his eviscerator. Still, the Beastman had shown good faith, so the man through his weapon to the side, it smacking the earth unharmed; it was a rugged thing that would not break without some true effort. He ripped off the front plate of his armour and the rest came off easily after wards. Finally exposing his bare, scarred chest and tattered remains of leather pants. Even his feet were bare, having scar tissue thick enough to strike matches on. It was as the last bit of armour hit the earth, he realized he never had a fistfight. All these years he was cutting or shooting Orks, before that he was a paper pusher. "It would be an education!" he mused.

Still, he knew how duels worked, at least in his section of the world. He walked until there was about twenty feet between them and bowed, before going in the approximate stance he used with his mono-knives; one fist was raised higher to protect himself and the other lower for gut-oriented strikes. He sniffed expectantly. He did not know the personal meaning of the insult Khaz brought upon him so he retorted with a casual air about him. "You know it's quite funny you call me bull-headed." He braced himself for a charge, which he knew the Beastman would most likely go along with.

@agentmanatee

"Hey! Not cool!" replied Meris, looking at the Guardswoman - whom had demolished her ball, now it was useless to play around with. If one didn't like it - they didn't have to ruin the fun for the others - it took her several weeks to make it and now one zealous or crazy Imperial Guardswoman had ruined her fun, and chance of mingling with the normal humans. She then gathered her wit, and started chasing after Ninke - unknowingly following to the sight of a brawl.

"Get back here!" yelled Meris, yelling at Ninke - able to catch up with her, due to her more lean and thinner build - and likely cause her target was more crippled than her. Soon seeing whom the woman was, namely one with bionics and with one replacing her leg. "By the Emperor' Holy Leg get back here! Why are you ruining others fun here? You owe me one ork skull-ball, ye bigot!"

"And that, ladies and gents, is what happens when a freshie gets out of her first warzone alive..." Angel muttered under her breath, no longer paying attention to the commissar. She knew a lot of him, most Cadians knew of 'The Silence,' the brutal man who had changed so drastically after narrowly escaping being assassinated. One of her many half-brothers had served under him, and him being here now did not suggest that she would ever be seeing her relative again. It was a shame, but Camerkon had gone off world when she was about three, so she hadn't gotten to know him that well anyway.

She jogged after the two guardsmen, before slowing to a halt as they approached the scene ahead of them. A heavy stubber was lying on the ground, as well as a mess of armour similar to that which she had seen many of the local militiamen wearing, and a brute of a human, bare-chested, in the midst of it. Across from him, an abhuman stood, goat horns curling above his head, and a greatsword stuck in the ground. Her bionic eye showed her more abhumans behind the creature, holding what looked to be bows.

Once again, her hand drifted down to her boltpistol, however this time she pulled it out of the holster, before letting the distincive *clink* of the saftey being switched off echo through the clearing. She cleared her throat and nodded to the two men, before saying "Don't let me disturb you gents, but no killing eachother, yeah? I'm sure the Ecclesiarchy wouldn't like a pair of soldiers killing each other, and unless i've very much underestimated the administrative power of abhumans, i'm sure I have enough authority to execute both of you." She was bluffing, of course. The AdMun preists could easily take an eviscerator to her head for killing one of their own, but the man in front of her probably didn't know that.

She hoped.

@Dannyrulx

What was this, an interruption? Who dared interrupt this honourable excursion? "I apologise, friend. It appears someone did not overhear me before." John said to Khaz, with astoundingly no sarcasm in the ''friend'' part. The beastman was being brave, and went up to the challenge. Not bad. For an abhuman, but still not bad. He quickly shook his head as the thought that he might be braver than most normal people entered his head. No, it's easy to be brave if you look like that! Still, his sympathy was mounting.

He turned to the woman, a face of anger and disgust on him. He cracked his knuckles, and looked her up and down. "You're not a Commissar, which means you can't kill me. Not only that, but that is not your bolt pistol; something for which a Commissar can kill you. You know, I swear I saw one just a few arshins away." He lowered his arms on either side of him, a perfectly impassive expression on him. "I'm going to rip those pretty cybernetics off of your face. That's not a kill, worry not. Just some fun horseplay between different authorities of the Imperium. Ha-ha." With that humorless laugh he would start walking towards her, cracking his knuckles as a cue for her to shut up and get to a safer distance to watch, one where she wouldn't try to play hero. John noted that at least some watchers shared his sentiments, thinking of her as a nuisance and means of stopping what would be an interesting fight. He of course kept Khaz in his peripheral vision, should he try to start white knighting. He also shot glares to the people who had failed their game of skull-ball and were coming to them. Should they try to stop him, they were in real trouble too. Whereas the likes of him or Khaz would be tough enough to take even the worst of beatings without even bothering to defend themselves, he reckoned he could rip apart the rest of them no problem, skill be damned, be they the cybernetically modified guardsmen, or the cat eared abhuman more akin to a xeno than a member of the apex species.

As he walked a little evil laughter would start coming from him. He did not want to do it, but it would hide his hands shaking. Damn heavy stubber recoil. He wondered if that sacrifice was enough to award him a spot closer to the God Emperor himself in paradise. He wasn't "muscular" as anyone could see, but he had great bulk, and the muscles he had were fine-tuned, so to speak. He flexed his arm, each one nearly as thick Angelika. He would at this point smile, letting his plasteel teeth shine for her. He wondered what thoughts were racing through her head right now, most likely something of fear. He quickly stopped that train of thought; arrogance was the bane of any man, and lead to heresy. Schlop. Schlop. Each step through the mud and dirt got him closer.

At that moment he wondered if he would actually do as he said. Would ripping out that horrid eye actually be survivable? If she did not back off, he sure as the throne would know! Besides, she pulled the gun on him whilst he dropped his massive weapon. What was that but aggression? "Another dog-tag for my gloves, another flak kit for my plate, another helmet for a trophy!" He yelled, getting ever closer to the terminal point.

Ninke stumbled as she tried to run, still balling and unable to see as tears stung in her eyes. She tripped several times, and the Felinid caught up quite easily. As she was called a bigot by the woman and grabbed at Ninke cried out, and shoved her away, stumbling further away from the party and now the fight breweing. She stumbled and fell about about until she was about thirty yards away before falling into a pile on the ground, dry heaving and crying.

Verdus Prime had been a trial for Johanna, one that seemed like previous engagements all over again. Black leather boots clean, and shiny stepped deftly across the ground to reach the camp where the mismatched bits of regiments were celebrating their victory against the Orks. That when what looked like a writhing pile of mess appeared before her. A frown creased her lips for a moment before she moved to stand right in front of the sobbing Guardswoman, her boots would filled Ninke's entire view. Captain Weiss clicked her tongue a bit, her brows furrowing somewhat as she waited for the Corporal to realize who was standing before her, and act appropriately.

Ninke sniffled as she saw the boots stand before her, slowly looking up from the ground as tears stung her eyes and she forced herself up slowly in front of the officer. Her alcohol filled head, despairing mind and panicky body managed to barely push herself upright. Her face was red, the plasma burn scars webbing her face stood out on her now quite red face. Her eyes were puffy from her crying and panick, and she sill dry heaved once and sniffled before the officer.

It seemed like hours that Johanna stared over Ninke, and narrowed her eyes a bit. "What did you never learn to stand at attention, and salute when a officer was standing in front of you?" A gloved hand reaches up and scoops up a tear off the red scarred cheek, and Johanna stares at the droplet as if looking something completely foreign to her. "What's your name Corporal?" The Captain's hands move behind her back clasping together as she awaited an answer, the Captain didn't seem to have a soft bone in her body.

Ninke winced as the officer insulted her, but obeyed orders like she was trained. "M-m-my n-nn-name ii-i-is-is Nii-inke I-Ing-ing-gran muh-muh-ma'am.", she gave a shaky aquila to the officer as was customary, still shaking and looking like she might fall or throwup at any moment.

For a moment Johanna seemed concerned, this was followed by a slow shake of her head. "Corporal Ingram, are you usually a babbling incoherent mess of snot and tears smelling of alcohol?" She stepped around her for a moment. "You are now banned from partaking of alcohol, or any other mind altering substances allowed by the Imperium. Also you are promoted to the rank of Sergeant acting immediately, and will be taking the position of my voxman in my command squad. You will go retrieve your new uniform, and ranks at zero five hundred, and report to my personal tent by zero seven hundred." She begins to step away, but stops turning slightly. "Please, go ahead and puke."

Ninke looked more confused than ever... she had just been reprimanded, punished, promoted, ordered and given permission to puke in the span of a few sentences. Her mind swam, her panick attack supsiding and replaced with confusion and nausea. Then, as ordered, she threw up. The red tinged liquid spilled from her mouth in a rather serious heave as she doubled over onto her knees, gasping from it. After she was done, she managed to say, "y-yes... m-ma'am", before heaving once again onto the ground... thank the Emperor she was wearing her poncho.

"Good. Now let's go see what is taking place over here shall we. On me Sergeant." Captain Weiss continued towards, the group that seemed to be having quite the time, the large man that was threatening another officer. A deep breath pulled up into her lungs, as she looked over towards Meris, a simple shake of her head was all that was given to tell the trooper to back off about the ball. She slipped her las pistol from it's holster, and fired a single shot in the air as she realized that something very bad was going to go down. Get so many Guard from so many different origins in one place, and there was bound to be some kind of disfunction. "I'm not entirely sure what began all this, but I'm ending it. I am Captain Weiss. The new Company Commander, and anyone who tries to continue this atrocity of Imperial Discipline, will truly know what discipline is."

@Andreyich @Dannyrulx @NecroKnight @Bright_Ops

Watching as the mad man threw his weapon aside, the tension that was in the air seemed to ease up. Khan heard the tension of the great bows behind him ease as their weilders removed the arrows... through the keen observer would notice that they kept the arrows on hand.

Before the fight could get underway however, more humans arrived and the situation seemed to get out of hand with threats thrown about like leaves in the wind... before a single laz shot rang out. Looking towards the source of the noise, Khaz watched in silence as a woman attempted to bring some order to the situation before it could sprial further out of control.

With nothing to say to anyone that had arrived, Khaz pulled his sword from the ground and started to brush the dirt off the blade. It would need to be properly cleaned and sharpened but there would be time for that later.

@Andreyich@The Lioness@Dannyrulx@agentmanatee@NecroKnight

"Oh sh-" Angelika cut herself off mid sentence and snapped a salute at the company commander. "Pyrotechnics Officer Angelika Carscallen, of the Cadian 132nd reporting MA'AM She snapped to attention, years of dealing with snooty, puffed-up commissars and commanders running through her head. Salute always, never make full eye contact, always defer to in theory; in practise you can normally avoid the more ridiculous orders, gently remind her that I carry melta weaponry if she rides in a chimera...

She deliberately flexed her muscles as she stood to attention, before mouthing to the militiaman 'you're just a bulky pen-pusher.' She was safe here. The militiaman didn't have to refer to the CC, but if he wanted to actually be able to come out of that armour without taking a las round to the head, then he wouldn't piss her or the commissar that would be assigned to them off. She took a deep breath before continuing.

'Ma'am, by your phrasing, I assume that means you're taking over the Cadian 132nd, as well as other groups? If so, I have two questions ma'am. Number one, will you require me to assemble my remaining guardsmen, and number two, will I be assigned with a new regimental banner, or is the honour being revoked ma'am?" She finished up with another deep breath, and crossed her fingers. If this went badly, she could expect being shouted at, if not, she would get a fresh banner. Of course, what with her slight alcohol slur, and the lho-stick still dangling from her lips, she was probably still going to be shouted at, but you can't win them all.

A female Guardsman comes from one of the encampments and made a small threat that sounded reasonable. The enraged (what seemed like a) Frateris Militia man, however, didn't seem to handle the comment too lightly. They would like to a assume that the man was simply too inebriated to think of his actions but something he felt... off. At least, Persephone assumed that he was just someone looking for a crowd.

However, the large man was pacing towards the woman, telling her what sounds like a death threat. "Won't... won't she die if they took off that implant?" she shudders to herself at the thought of having her eye gouged out and before she and her companions realized it, had pulled out the Hija, brandishing it. This was definitely not good. The group wasn't sure if this was a custom in other planets but they were also not sure if this was a gesture condoned in other cultures since they never saw this being allowed during their time with the other Guardsmen regiments. Taiel at least confirmed that it was indeed grounds for an execution, but said that he was "not sure if us Guards can pull it off without getting the Emperor's peace ourselves." Persephone hissed a muffled expletive and crouched closer towards the location where they could take the man from behind. At least one of the Abhumans nearby would be able to see her do the act, or the Guardsman nearby. However, before she could do anything that could have damaged her reputation and further endanger her health, a shot rung. She impulsively fell to the ground and placed her hand to her head to avoid being shot. She crawled to a side where there were some bushes to hide her and tried reaching out for something on her back.

But her long-las isn't there. "Shit," she thought as the realization dawned on her. She has to ask about that later. Maybe after that rather intimidating woman finishes her spiel. Wait, it's an officer! With a sigh of relief she sheathes her Hija and headed out of the bushes. The same goes for the other two men who were also hiding earlier as extra pairs of hands if things went awry. Without needing to, the three made an acquila as a sign of respect, before lowering their heads and slinking away again when they were dismissed.

When Persephone was on her way back to their encampment, it was only then that she realized that she dropped the mug of alcohol that she was carrying earlier. Since everything happened so fast, she could not remember where she placed it or dropped it. Cursing under her breath again, she heads back, wholly intending to take the main path this time, and tries to look around for it just to avoid getting into trouble.

@Andreyich@Dannyrulx@The Lioness

Meris stopped her chasing at that point - once a Captain had taken the situation under her control. Albeit, she was likely liable to meeting Ninke again, judging by her bionic replacements and knowing the medical problems that might come up.

Albeit, she held her tongue - despite being of a different Regiment, there was no reason to make enemies now. Especially with her unit mostly consisting of a banner, two soldiers and a Commissar. She would be working with other people soon enough and they needed to be allies and not barely contain enemies.

She followed the commotion though too - spotting 'that guy'. The namely arrogant, biased and trigger-happy militia man - and she had the audacity to threaten an Imperial Guardswoman. The idiot likely didn't know that such acts were ground for execution for threatening a superior officer - even she outranked the fool, namely because any IG outranked a brutish Frateris.

She hoped, the guy would take the hint and crawl away back to wherever he came from - since it was a Captain ordering it, if the guy started to get more resistant then it could get messy. Such actions of his could he called treasonous - even more so, the fact if he started spouting the Imperial Crees as his reason. Such reasons could have him branded a heretic - for spreading false belief and wasting the Emperor' resources and those were usually handled and punished in a very painful way.

@Bright_Ops@agentmanatee@Dannyrulx@NecroKnight@Andreyich@Lmpwrkr@Rultaos@mackielars@Hank@The Lioness

"Is it prepared yet?"

The scribbling sound of quill on parchment momentarily ceased, a sharp intake of breath coming from the hunchbacked scribe, his mechanical eyes whirring for a moment as he turned to focus on the black-clad woman standing by the window overlooking the hab-units from the central chamber of the Ministorum Headquarters. She had been stood there for hours now, the sharp angles of her face expressionless and her lips unchanged from the pout that had been there all this time, as Terebravisse had scratched out the final touches to the official document before him; upon completion, which had actually happened an hour earlier, he had had to make at least a dozen copies for other branches of the Guard, Ministorum and others, and each time she had asked him if he was finished...now he was getting annoyed.

"My dear Commissar," he wheezed through his teeth, "things of this importance take time, and it is a laborious process as you can see, but with a few more touches..." the fingertip quills worked swiftly and completed a final flourish, "...it is done."

With barely a sound Kata, Junior-Commissar and aide to Commissar Ismael Castor (for the moment), moved across and scooped up the delicate document in one gloved hand. As her glacial eyes focused on the writing, running back and forth over the High Gothic text, only now did the ghost of close-mouthed a smile begin to form on her lips; if anything it was more chilling to see her smile, giving her a half-crazed look that could not be good.

The document was concerned with the forming of a company within a larger regiment - a company under the command of a certain Captain J. Weiss, formerly of the Cadian 407th - one small part of a regiment that had been entitled for the time being simply as '87th Combined Regiment Expeditio Vernum'; this regiment would be under the overall command of a Colonel, however Captain Weiss would not only have near three-hundred souls under her command, but also the added pleasure of both Castor and his second-in-command as company Commissars. Every other NCO and commission was up to the Captain's discretion, with ample supervision of course.

What the parchment stipulated was that members of her company should be taken from some of the most whittled down regiments currently enjoying themselves some storeys below, those such as the Cadian 132nd and 407th - these veterans more than likely to make up the solid core of the new company, if not the regiment at large - as well as drifting survivors from the relatively unknown Cyrothaxian 'Flashflooders', Foruzian Light Infantry, and Hirisit 482nd among others.

One decision that might not be widely well received was that Abhumans from at least two damaged regiments were to be included, the First Helhiem Warband and Felinid 'Nightstalkers' being a part of that, along with the usual smattering of thick-skulled Ogryns and swift-fingered Ratlings; it was something that did not overly concern the Junior-Commissar, but something she would have to nevertheless monitor.

"Excellent work, scribe. I hope we meet again some day."

Once he was certain that she was out of hearing range, he turned back to his desk - the wooden behemoth almost as large as he was - and gritted his teeth, "and I sincerely hope that we do not."

---

Kata arrived just as order was being restored to a drunken ruckus, some sort of altercation having obviously taken place between the Beastmen and a more fanatical servant of the near lunatic Frateris, a pell-mell organsiation that the Commissar saw the use of but had her doubts about; all she could think as she approached was that it was a good thing someone else had stepped in, her eyes sweeping over Commissar Castor as she passed by the huge bonfire, the 'music' having thankfully fallen silent in the presence of a superior officer, because had she been the one to break up the fight then there would be significantly more corpses strewn about the place.

Once standing next to Captain Weiss, ignoring all looks directed her way, she snapped her heels together and snapped off a textbook perfect salute.

"Captain Weiss, I presume?" She asked cooly, the rank insignia clearly showing that she was indeed the Captain, "these are your orders for the formation of a new company - you will be required to select three hundred suitable candidates to join the 87th Combined Regiment under Colonel Hamid Nizar, the inspection parade taking place at o-five-hundred hours this morning."

She had been keeping her voice low for the moment, but after snapping off another salute she pivoted about on her heels and looked to the crowd gathered about the now diffused brawl, her voice carrying to those about the edges of the hab-units with the volume and levity of a parade ground Drill-Sergeant.

"At zero-five-hundred hours this morning, not too far away, those here present will be prepared for inspection and standing by rank-and-file in the open ground beyond the power-station. It is not hard to miss, so you are expected to be there whatever your current or future condition, everything cleaned and in order. Punishments will be given for insubordination and reprimands for errors in armament and uniform. That is all, carry on."

Looking back once more to the Captain, her sharp features shadowed by the peak of her cap in the light of the moon and fire, she made sure that the parchment was given over to Johanna, saluted, and began to walk back to the headquarter building where she was billeted.

One speech a night was enough for anyone.

Castor watched passively with mild amusement as the Captain asserted her authority. Personally, he considered the show of force to be a little unnecessary considering the shitstorm these soldiers had just survived but it was not his place to question Captain Weiss' time and place to enforce discipline. He remained in the back as Junior Commissar Kata dispensed their new orders and threatened punishment (yawn, Castor thought) and his gaze lingered on her as she sashayed away. "She's far too pretty to be a Commissar, don't you think?" he mumbled to the Guardsman standing next to him, one of the Cadian survivors, who nodded emphatically and burst into silent laughter. Castor flashed the man a lopsided grin and started making the rounds throughout the gathered soldiers, leaning closer to the most drunken examples who stood teetering on their legs and told them to freshen up and get some sleep while Captain Weiss was interrogated on some trivial matter -- Castor heard the word 'banner' being used.

Eventually, his little walk brought him to John, the boastful challenger and apparent abhuman racist. The Commissar casually sauntered over to the big man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Son," Castor began, his voice low, "it seems like you've just been conscripted into the Imperial Guard. Welcome. One of our rules, however, is that we don't fight our own. And that... goat over there, that you wanted to fight so badly, is actually one of our own. I know, it's a little strange, but they fight just as good as the rest of us. That's what matters. Don't you want to make the Emperor proud? Then work with these abhumans and the rest of us. Alright?"

The Commissar looked John in the eyes and nodded once, slowly. "Do the right thing. Get some rest. Be here tomorrow morning."

@Andreyich

@Bright_Ops

John had barely heard the snap of the las pistol and merely pointed a middle finger in the direction of the sound, and kept on stomping towards the Guardsmen. Only when adressed did he lazily turn to look. "Ugh" he thought. He would walk over to the commander, with the demolition charge in tow. He would shoot a glare to the Cadian he was previously marching on, and shout "You're lucky I won't tell them about your little acquisition, bitch." He had read nearly every piece of official literature, as well as recovered uplifting primers and such. She was not supposed to have a bolt-pistol, and snitching was oh, so attractive at this moment. He would finish his walk to Johanna, and look down on her, both physically and metaphorically, breathing in her face as he did so. "Arrogance, is not a virtue. I came to test my strength, to go against a challenge and have a record smitten by the other opponent. Maybe if you and the others were not so deaf, you would know the nature of the fight to come. Oh yes. Flog me, baby." he would finish, sarcastically.

When the Kata came he listened curiously, shrugging when she finished. He pretended he didn't give a crap, but he was excited, excited as ever. He did not have anything to live for back here. He was no longer a paper pusher, he was the man who had shaky hands because he shot too many bullets. This was what he should have been doing his whole life. The other bastards here, the ones moaning about their service and hardships, they were too pathetic to realize what an opportunity they were given. Nearly all of these Guardsmen were shameful displays of humanity, they were of inferior stock. Yet he and his Frateris Militia Brothers now had another war, another place to fight! They could continue exterminating the enemies of man!

He did not notice the Commissar who strolled over to him either, until he placed a hand on him; instincts made his own thick hand shoot out to grab it. He would keep strong grip on it and slowly lower it. Then lean over to whisper to the man. "This was an honourable challenge, which was taken up. Admittedly my means to initiate were not good, but the ends justify the means. Next, do not call me son, 'sir.'" he said, trying to stop a laugh. "I have nothing left to give to the Imperium but my life, so as you put it, I will use it to do the right thing. If removing corruption is the right thing, so be it. Finally, do not associate me with these wretches, I am not one of your own. If you do not know what transpired, which you do not, your judgement is flawed." He would turn wholly to him now an offended stare and somewhat angry look on his face. He did not like being touched.

All eyes now on her Johanna turned her head slightly to the one barraging her with questions about carrying standards, and such. A single finger was lifted to silence the guardswoman as John walked towards her. Not a movement was made, her hand still held her las pistol, but it was slid back into its holster just as John made it to her. Captain Weiss stared back at John expression not changing a bit. The Captain let the man speak, loom over her, and still she didn’t move a muscle. When John was finally done, and his attention on the Commissar did Johanna open to her mouth to let out something she seemed so sure, so serious about, as if it was a fact and not a threat. “That’s your one freebie. Next time you ever, ever touch a Commissar, or officer.” A finger pointed from herself to Castor. “Next time you get in my face, or any other officer’s face. Next time you ever make threats like you did earlier to someone in my Company! I will remove your head from your shoulders, and I will put it on a pike on our flagship tank! You will be an example for all who would consider actions such as yours. Now get out of my sight, get your uniform, and weapon prepped for the morning, and meet at the designated Parade ground at Zero Four Hundred.”

Stepping away from John, and Castor Johanna gave the Frat Boy no more thought, and once more addressed everyone gathered. Captain Weiss knew that not everyone was present, but she knew that the word would spread rather quickly. “That goes for everyone! I want everyone on the Parade grounds at Zero Four Hundred for my personal inspection so you don’t embarrass me. I think that this has been one embarrassment enough.” Turning Johanna looked to Angelika. “You come with me, Sergeant Ingram you as well. I want both of you to accompany to my tent.” With her head turning slightly Johanna looked to Commissar Castor. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate your presence as well. We have a lot to talk about when it comes to this merging.”

@Andreyich@NecroKnight@Hank@mackielars@Dannyrulx@Bright_Ops@agentmanatee

The effects of alcohol had already waned from all the excitement earlier. Persephone pulled out a crooked lho-stick from her pocket and lit it up just to have something to do with her time. She didn’t feel like taking another mug for now, anyway. Looking forward, she realized that two Commissars, and the Captain are still in the scene. She was hoping that she wouldn’t come across other officers or other people along the way but supposed that this is simply unavoidable.

While the group of officers conversed with the Militia man a few meters away, Persephone starts rummaging around quietly for her lost mug. In the process she heard two things: one, the sounds of heaving and wheezing; and two, the cold voice of the Captain that made her wince internally.
“Next time you get in my face, or any other officer’s face. Next time you ever make threats like you did earlier to someone in my Company! I will remove your head from your shoulders, and I will put it on a pike on our flagship tank! You will be an example for all who would consider actions such as yours.”
Persephone snorts to herself, she believes that the man was lucky that they even bothered giving him another chance. Had that man been another Guardsman, they would have died on the spot.

”Bah. Where did I drop that thing,” she mutters to herself when she drops to her knees and tried to look and feel around for the mug. “It should be here somewhere... AHA!” She holds up the mug, but her voice was followed by a watery snort and what seemed like a choked sob nearby. ”Ah. Yes. The retching drunk,” Persephone thinks to herself when she follows the noise. Moving a bush away revealed a small figure that is now breathing in gulps of air in between what sounded like snots and small coughs.

“Hello? Are you still all right?” Persephone asks with her soft but raspy voice. “I heard you… heaving.”

She kneels down and gently places her hand on the back of the other person, petting and rubbing it in hopes of helping the other, then tried leaning her head to the side to peek at the other person’s face. “Come if you can stand, friend. You must not stay like this.” With that, Persephone kneels up and waits for the other to give her their hand so they could help them drape it over her shoulder, and she could hold on to the other by the waist of their pants for support. As the two stood, it was then that Persephone realized that the other person was a woman. Her face was laced with burns but what made her look more miserable would be their half-lidded eyes and her flushed but quickly paling face. “You drank too much,” Persephone says in a matter-of-face voice as the other woman tries to regain her balance. “Hmh. I have been named Persephone. What are you called?”

Before they could have a proper conversation, the Captain calls out ”You come with me, Sergeant Ingram you as well. I want both of you to accompany to my tent.” The Captain was looking at their direction when she called to someone named Ingram and it dawns on her that she has been talking to a Sergeant as if they were just another Guardsman. “Ah-I’m… I apologize, Ma’am,” she mutters, ashamed on how she treated a superior. “I will accompany you to the Captain’s tent, if you so willed...”

@agentmanatee @Dannyrulx @Andreyich @The Lioness @Hank @NecroKnight @Bright_Ops