Khaz watched on in silence as more people showed up, there was talk of orders and things were yelled about 'zero-five-hundred hours' and 'parades'... He had the vaguest idea of what a uniform was and he was going to have to spend some time cleaning his armor tonight...

As the group disbursed and the bull headed man was told exactly where he stood in the grand scheme of things, Khaz didn't really have any further reason to stay, turning and heading back to join the rest of his warband in their section of the camp. He would have to tell Grand Alpha Gort what he had heard and hopefully the veteran leader would have a better understanding of what it actually meant then he did.

With a small sigh, Khaz couldn't help but feel that this whole damn incident had soured the joyous mood that he had been feeling before. Oh well...

@Andreyich@NecroKnight@Hank(specifically)@mackielars@Dannyrulx@Bright_Ops(specifically)@agentmanatee@The Lioness (specifically)

He listened to the words of the Captain, ineffectually trying to stop a laugh. She dared to threaten him? Boy people in the Guard were daft! She did not even notice he could have vaporised them all there and then. This was why he joined the Frateris Militia, rather than waiting for the PDF to regroup and re-recruit. He felt he did wrong by Castor though, and overreacted just a little. Saying he would be ashamed to have such a man for a father was too much, and horribly insulting. He gave him a quick glance before muttering a vague apology to the Commissar, though not to the Officer. The man had also arrived after the situation already escalated, so him being unaware of what was to happen was not nearly as trivial to his character as was that of the Officer, and the other Cadian. He also knew that Cadians picked to go off world were Conscripted, and thus pathetic, horrible wretches in his eyes. Unless stopped, he went to leave these cowards and go back to the camp of his Brothers; true heroes.

When he would reach his camp he would greet those he knew and nod to those he was for one reason or another not acquainted with yet. Another thing he enjoyed about the Frateris Militia. People had a sense of brotherhood, people did not have to fight in several battles together to feel like they were part of a greater whole. He would go to where he slept, and unearth his buried foot locker. Knowing he couldn't keep his stuff here, he simply put the heavy thing on his back. His heavy stubber along with his footlocker made even the enormous man grunt with effort, he had a lot of things in there. A set of fancy clothes sealed to prevent the weather from getting to them, several bottles of old and expensive amasec, so on and so forth. He put his armour back on along with his helmet but didn’t not lower the gas-mask. After all, he was nearly unrecognisable with it. He sat, and sang some hymns with his brothers, the men firing their weapons madly into the sky. He would share the amasec with his brothers, and some of the older treats he had. He kept a few bottles and some of the candies away, he had other uses for them.

There were two people he had to give a gift to; the Commissar and the beastman. Both helped in the fight for his world, and behaved well (honourably in the case of the abhuman). He walked to the abhuman camp, huffing a little as he carried all the weight on his back. He didn’t know if he would give the other beastmen a taste of the stuff, he supposed it depended on how drunk he would end up. He would stomp over to the beastman camp, if he would notice the Commissar he would approach the man, if not he would just have to go to him later.

@Andreyich

Feris had watched the interaction going on - between the Captain, Commisar and the big burly Frateris. She had almost a half-mind to faceplant at the man' obvious lack of decour and respect. If any of their squad had attempted to do such a thing, they would have been executed faster than a Astropath' Message.

She soon enough dispersed with the other Guardsmen - when the call came to disperse and prepare for inspection. She had returned to her tent at that, which consisted of only one - and her equipment was given a quick check-up, which wasn't much everything considered. If Felinids were known for anything - beside their catlike appearance, weird eyes and having claws - it was that they were a practical people. They usually had to be, when the sun roasted their planet half the day.

As such, she soon finished with her equipment inspection - making it sure to be spiff and clean, that even a Commisar couldn't find a fault in it. After that, she decided to go search for her ork-ball - despite its likely dented shape, she had spent a good week on that and wasn't prepared to write off just yet. As such, she soon found her way back towards the Beastman' tent - or more likely their surrounding as she kept her eyes open and low - to find her ball.

Until some human stomped by and onto her hand - which caused her to let out a yelp, and pull herself up.

"Hey. Watch the hand, this thing is delicate and valueable," she spoke to the burly Frateris, that she now spotted infront of her. Nursing her left hand, underneath her right arm.

@NecroKnight

Grunting, sweat forming on his brow as he walked with his heavy load, he stepped on something; something that moved away. The sudden change of terrain under him made him lose balance, and start falling. He was a burly man with a massive weight on him, so it was a slow fall. Like an avalanche. When finally he hit the soil there was a great thud mud flying everywhere. He groaned. Getting back up would be such a hassle. He rolled over to see what the hell it was he stepped on. Oh yes, what he stepped on was in fact an it. He stared at Fixun, one eye closed shut with mud. "Who in the throne-forsaken hells asked you to be there!" he snarled. Growling a little he stared for a few more moments, wiping dirt off of his face. With a grunt of effort he put his knuckles into the mud and after a few seconds pushed himself off to an unstable standing position.

With a few loud stomps he turned to her, finally at his fully height, augmented by his boots and helmet to be an imposing 7ft in total. He growled a little more before looking himself over. "Delicate? I'm sure, valuable? Perhaps for stealing valuables you little...." He turned his head to look at the things on his back. With a little gasp, he looked at his heavy stubber. "You... you got all five barrels with mud in them! You realize that could make the bloody thing explode in the middle of a battle and send shrapnel flying and kill everyone in pretty damn big radius!" With an angry roar he threw down his heavy stubber and his footlocked. He looked about for a suitable puddle to clean his things in.

When he finally found when he hauled the two things to it, and started cleaning what he could. Something was familiar about the abhuman. Realisation dawning on him he turned, mouth agape. "You were bloody well there! Don't you know to not draw attention to where you shouldn't! You bloody well snitched, didn't you!" He roared with his face turning red, not just because his helmet was on very tight. "All would be better if you were a bloody real cat!" he would breath heavily, his armoured hands and chest going up and down along with the mile long stare.

@Andreyich

Meris growled back at that, yet held her temper - there was no need to get angry, when she was 'technically' above him now. "For your information, the only stuff I have stolen is an ork' head. And I don't think he would be missing it."

"Secondly, that weapon of yours is very inaccurate - it has caused many cases of friendly fire on the field. Some of which I have witnessed," she replied, standing straight. "And please. The only body I snitch to if ever, is to the local priest - when I need to speak some doubts of my chest. Which hasn't happened since I left my homeworld."

"Yeah laugh it up. My great-uncle something fucked a cat, several thousand years ago. Very funny," she replied, mock-clapping to him. "And I wasn't looking to steal anything, rather recover my ork-ball - which I had been chasing a Guardswoman, who had smashed it. And she namely ran to your spot - where you were as I saw, wrestle with a goatman. IF there is anybody you should hold a grudge on, its her. I know I hold - that ball costed me a week' worth of work. And I am not sure, where I will get another intact ork' head."

"And don't you stare at me. I was there also to hear, what the Captain had said. So you better not think, its a good idea to threaten a Corporal. Recruit," replied Meris - arms crossed over her chest.

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

When the Commissar approached, Marcus was among those who stopped playing and stood at relative attention. After all, he was only slightly drunk, and the sight of the red cap could sober up even the drunkest and rowdiest of soldiers. When he gave the order to "Carry on" however, he relaxed and turned back to face the Ork ball that his other two comrades were toying with, wondering when he'd get his next hit in. The Commissar who arrived had also taken an interest in their game and had approached the group. "Oh, I see, it's one of those xenos. Hey, fellows, mind if I have a go? They killed a lot of my friends too." The Commissar asked, surprisingly politely. Marcus was a little taken aback at this behavior, being used to Commissars holding themselves higher than the Guardsmen, but he managed to reply properly enough. "Oh, by all means, sir! Feel free to join in, we're not exactly taking tur-"

He was abruptly cut off when he heard the sound of squishing flesh. Upon turning around, he saw the blonde and scarred lady mashing the Ork-ball into a pulp while tears streamed down her face. Their toy was quickly reduced into an unrecognizable mass of meat.

"Aw Hell... I didn't even get ta' dedicate some punts for the 3rd Company..." Marcus thought out loud. Immediately afterwards though, the scarred blonde ran away, most likely out of shame. The Felinid, who had drunkenly introduced themselves as Meris Fixun, chased after her, clearly angry at losing their plaything, shouting "Get back here! By the Emperor's Holy Leg get back here! Why are you ruining others fun here? You owe me one ork skull-ball, ye bigot!". The Cadian officer, whom he learned was named Angelika Carscallen, ran after the two as well. Marcus glanced at the direction they were heading towards, and could hear primal screaming among shouts from various Guardsmen gathered in a crowd. "Hey! I don't think any of us want ta' head that way!" Marcus shouted after them as he also gave chase. From what he knew about his fellow Guardsmen, crowds and screaming could only ever be because of a fight, or disciplinary action, and his three new friends running headfirst into either one of those things would not end well.

Upon finally catching up with them, he saw a scarred bear of a man staring down Angel and spouting death threats at them. "Hey! You don't talk to your comrades lik-" Marcus started as he began approaching them, but was quickly pulled back by Hardin, who was in the crowd. "Don't try anything, you'll just make it worse. Dace said he saw a Commissar and an officer-looking fellow heading this way, the last place you want to be when they get here is in the middle of this bloody mess." Hardin quickly explained. Marcus gave an annoyed grunt as he shook off Hardin's palm. "Who in the Emperor's name does this guy think he is...?" Marcus muttered, referring to the bloodthirsty man.

Hardin's prediction turned out to be correct as a laspistol shot was fired into the air and an intimidating woman with dark skin and a partially mechanical arm, dressed in officer garb walked into the scene. "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." The new arrival said.

The music had stopped at this point and the Flashflooders stood at attention, fearful of the glad that the situation was diffused without any bloodshed, as it certainly looked like it was about to go that way, and Marcus didn't look forward to starting anything violent with his fellow troops, especially if they were going to be working together again. He needed to be able to trust the people who guarded his flanks. "Company Commander... I'm guessing that means she's our new boss." Marcus said quietly. "Yeah... She's a lot scarier than our last one too." Hardin whispered back.

Another female officer joined the scene at this point, this one wearing a Commissar's outfit and had a pale skin tone. They did not introduce themselves, but they had an air of cold authority over them, much like the Commissars he had seen during the Vernum Crusade who would gun Guardsmen down for the slightest infractions without blinking an eye. They passed on some orders to Captain Weiss before raising their voice to levels Marcus had rarely heard.

"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." The female Commissar announced.

Captain Weiss continued scolding the man who had the audacity to retort a commanding officer, before addressing the rest of the people there. “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.”

The Flashflooders gave quick salutes before dispersing along with the rest of the crowd. "Looks like we're going to be in for quite a ride, gentlemen." Dace said to the group. "I just hope we don't immediately get shipped into another shitstorm of a crusade like this one. At least not until I at least know the blokes squatting next to me when I bleed to death." Marcus said, joking at the end. "I hope we get something new to ride in. As much as I love the old Chimera, I'd rather have a new set of wheels and walls to put between me and the xenos." Bertolt added as the group returned to their quarters.

Just as Marcus was putting away his armor and getting ready to sleep, Hardin forcefully yanked him away from his bed. "Hey! What's this for?!" Marcus asked. "YOU, are not going to rest until your armor is clean!" Hardin replied. "Come on... I thought you boys were used to the smell by now." Marcus answered back. "Yeah, by the Emperor's divine grace we've gotten used to it. But our new commander isn't and I don't think she's the type who'll take kindly to a soldier smelling like shit during an inspection. Now clean your bloody armor! The whole company might end up getting the whip if one of us fucks up." Hardin retorted.

With a defeated sigh, Marcus set about to clean his stained armor set, hoping to get some sleep early and wondering what their new unit will end up being composed of. The Crusade's survivors were definitely a colorful bunch if this evening's party was anything to go by, but he had no idea whether they'd be able to keep it together as a unit.

Well. That was a dismissal if she'd ever seen one. Maybe she'd get a visit from the quatermaster to get her new banner, or maybe she had just recieved an unofficial demotion. Either way, that was that, and they had orders for tomorrow. She sighed, knowing that the 132nd would not be happy campers at this new information. She glanced down at her watch and breathed out heavily, her body sagging as she saw the time. 23:43. If she scrambled now, she could get three or four hours of sleep, praise the Emperor. She had survived worse than an inspection on far less sleep. She fiddled with her personal comms and sent a message out to her squad.

"Ladies and gents, we've got a real hardass of a company commander who wants to see us all shipshape by five tomorrow. Don't let me down; get that armour clean and those boots polished. Weapons too."
There was a predicted chorus of groans over the next minute, which she weathered with a thin smile before following up with "and by the Emperor, if you have forgotten everything about being a Cadian, I am all too happy to wake us all up at 02:00 during our next starship trip."
This was followed by a deafaning silence, followed by a series of 'yes ma'am' from the remeaining soldiers.

She turned back to the militiaman and pulled the bolt pistol out of her hip holster, before slamming a magazine into it and racheting the slide backwards. "Let me make one thing clear. There is a reason the Cadians are the best shock troopers in the galaxy, and it ain't because we faff around in factories all day. We train, we train, and we train a bit more, and then we use said traning to fuck up anything that moves when we get sent out. I've fought against things that would cause your mind to blank out and you to become a gibbering wreck, and shot them until they turned into fucking dust. If you cuss out me or any other Cadians again, or dare to threaten one of your superiors now that you're a guardsman, we'll see how much protection your home-made fucking junk armour is against a plasma round, won't we?" She nodded her head towards the male commissar before striding away. The lho-stick in her mouth having burnt down to the filter.

She approached the older man cautiously, aware that he was a commissar, yet wanting to know more about the infamous Silence. She saluted, before asking him. "So. You served with the 143rd sir? I assume I won't be seeing my half-brother again if you're out here alone." @Hank

@The Lioness

Castor acknowledged John's apology with a polite nod and watched the burly man leave without another word. The Commissar shook his head at the zealot's behavior but said nothing further of it. After Captain Weiss finished addressing the troops she requested his presence at her tent. "Of course, ma'am. I will be there shortly. Just going to finish making my rounds." He saluted the Captain and turned to make sure that the Guardsmen and women were packing up their gear and leaving, muttering a few words of encouragement as he sauntered throughout the dispersing troops.

@Dannyrulx

That was when one of the women approached him. "So. You served with the 143rd sir? I assume I won't be seeing my half-brother again if you're out here alone," Angel asked. Castor regarded her for a second before he replied, taking in her solid build, bionic eye and blond hair. Contrary to the pretty Junior Commissar, this was a woman that looked like she knew how to handle a stiff firefight. Castor liked her immediately.

"Probably not, I'm afraid. There were only two dozen survivors of the whole 143rd," Castor replied, took of his cap and bowed his head. "May the Emperor watch over their souls. They were good men and women. What was your half-brother's name?" the Commissar asked and jammed his cap back on his head. "And what's yours, for that matter?"

@NecroKnight

He kept up the stare, hands at either side of him, the same pattern of heavy breathing. Rip and tear, when they're just standing there like that you simply want to rip and tear. It would be so simple to just walk over, take their arms off and remove the rest with them. He shook his head to get out of his little trance. He grunted a little as he looked at her again, the same face of disgust and disdain for the abhuman before him. "Yeah, well he would have bloody well been better off if he drowned it before it gave birth!" He roared, his plasteel teeth grating on each other and even bending a little with all the force upon them. "Oh, and of course you don't snitch, if you would then they would investigate the throne-forsaken things you do too!"

He then stopped, and grinned maniacally. He lowered his mask and lifted his heavy stubber and let the barrels spin, sending a short burst of it's massive bullets into the sky one of the red hot casings falling on his naked neck; he did not mind the slight sizzle it made on his skin. He kept looking at her through the visor as he made his point. "Woops, missed. You're right I do need to work on my accuracy." There was enough shooting from the celebrations in the Frateris and other camps to make the sound dismissible, though he took a quick glance to see if there was anyone around to witness the muzzle flashes. He was a Guardsman now, after all. When she brought up the skull, he got really mad. “You bloody well got the attention of a ponce over an Ork’s skull? Just how daft are you! There’s Orks heads all over, you just rip it off of the damn things!”

When she tried to pull rank on him he started with a little chuckle, and then let it erupt into a full laugh. “You what?” he managed in between bursts of laughter. He would walk over to her and give a light pat on the shoulder. “Just for that I’ll forget it all….” He tried – ineffectually – to maintain an impassive face and then once again returned to the laughter, almost falling over with an “oh shit” in between giggles. Even behind a respirators kit and thick chunks of ceramite and plasteel he managed to laugh like a horse. hyena, albeit one with a very deep voice.

@Andreyich

"I have nothing to hide, except you," she replied, looking at him. "And Incase your daft, all such Orks are to be burned - since they release spores that will hatch years later until you burn them out. That ork ball I had was sanitized against such a possibility."

She rolled her eyes at that, looking at him. "Laugh all you want. You are a Guardsman tomorrow. No Frateris or other bullcrap there. Plus we have more trigger-happy Commissars likely joining and any sign of resistance is BLAMed immediately. Your lucky the CC was merciful otherwise you would have been dead in a ditch. Your kind are a dime a dozen. And I have killed bigger Orks with bigger guns, with my hands."

"So advice - lose the attitude, Commissars have executed for less. Watch your friendly fire, the last guy who did that got executed post-haste. And find a profession or reason to be useful. We got ogryns with bigger guns and less lip. I am a medic in that regard - I have saved countless lives of the Emperor' servants. So don't get cocky with xenos - most of them can easily skewer and eat us. And they don't care much about appearance. So stay smart and I'll patch up any wound you get, so after everything you can return home."

"Also, if you need something, I can get you something for the shakes. My first fight ended with me, throwing up for two days."

@NecroKnight

How easy would it be to just gouge out it's eyes with it's own bones, he mused. He had a sunken mindless expression about him as he half-listened, though it was mostly concealed by the mask. "I know what is to be done with Orks fool! Removing the bloody spores is not difficult, just siphon fuel from the damn flamers or trukks of theirs!" He did not know if such a thing was allowed or not, but after all it was usually formerly Imperial Promethium or the world's own fossil fuel. He didn't really bother with this until now, he wasn't a soldier, although he did not remember reading anything of that sort in all the Uplifting Primers he found on dead Guardsmen.

When she referred to "Frateris bullcrap" however he saw red; more than he usually did. "Why you little-" he began, his hand darting for her throat. Then a thought struck him: What if it has rabies? He quickly pulled the hand back making a disgusted retching noise. Snarling a little, he stared on. He should have put the mask on earlier, who knows what sorts of disease the damn things carry. Looking back, going fighting the beastman so bare was also not a good idea, they would only be worse. Perhaps the stand-off that occurred was a good thing. "A dime a dozen? Point me to them. I heard Cadians are supposed to be big, yet all I saw are like the runty shit that threatened me."

He let out another brutish burst of laughter when told to lose the attitude, gripping his stomach for support. When the laughter finally died down he returned to his usual expression of anger and rage. "If I die, so be it. I'll make sure I'll take down the incompetent fool down with me." He would turn a little to show the charge on his back intended for a spectacular suicide that never came. When she spoke of xenos he grinned imperceptibly. "I'm sure they can skewer and eat you, even I would not be wholly against such a thing; if cooked properly anyways. Ogryns are stupid, they cannot aim, they just go forward. I'm clever enough to let all sorts of the wretches around be in front without getting caught. Usually anyway."

When the topic of returning home and aiding his wounds came up, he groaned. "I'm forty-one. If today is my first day in the Guard, I am not going to live long enough to properly retire due to time spent serving, and that is assuming someone bigger and badder than me doesn't take my head first. When I get off this planet, I am only returning if the new damn regiment gets assigned to it.

Finally, he let his last burst of laughter out. "The only thing I need is Frenzon! More and more of it, and whatever other fighting juice you can get." He would drop down his heavy stubber with a clang. "You try and compensate for the recoil of that." He would finish, pointing to the thing, wondering if she could even lift it.

@Hank
"His name was Andreyavik. My father had a habit of naming his children with 'k's it seems. I'm Angelika sir. Angelika Carscallen." She bowed her head, recognising that the losses would be enough for every suriving member to get a triple skull. "You were lucky sir. My company is down to about half a dozen, mostly specialists. Two heavy weapons, a vox caster, and our sharpshooter. I thnk you'll like her, she's got a very fancy peice of kit. The ISU-122 pattern lascannon."

She sighed. "Still, I miss my planetmen and women. My company is fine as it is, but the same six faces over and over makes you go mad for more. Add that to the fact that pretty much all the guys are trying to get uhh..." She stumbled as she realised her audience, before cautiously proceeding. "All the guys are... Trying... To... Get into my pants, and the fact that none of them can play regicide..." She pause, and her bionic eye looked the commissar up and down, before she grinned. "I heard you play a mean game of regicide sir. Perhaps during our next starship trip i'll get the honour of a game?"

It was actually rather surprisingly about how quiet the 'camp' of the Helhiem Warband had become after the whole commotion with the bull headed idiot of a human had died down. Once Grot had been informed about what the human leaders had ordered, he had quickly gotten things underway; Repairs to armor, weapons being sharpened or repaired as the few surviving supporting members of the regiment worked their makeshift forges (that foul smelling fire starting helping the process a lot) and a quick trip to a nearby source of water in order to wash away the filth of a hard night's worth of combat. Some cleaning mixtures made from herbs from Helhiem had even been brought out for the occasion! After all, only a plague ridden, foul smelling servant of the Dark Gods would refuse to clean themselves in the Cleansing rituals of the Emperor.

So when Khaz returned to camp, his fur was somewhat damp, smelling strangely sweet scented and somewhat puffed up from when he had shaken himself to get some of the excess water off in order to dry... and instantly found his good mood fading away in an instant as he recognized a familiar face that had returned, no doubt to bother them once again. At the moment however he seemed content to scream loudly at a different human with strange features.

Watching as the human threw down his strange but deadly weapon and said something that didn't make much in the way of sense (a challenge of strength maybe?), Khaz decided that he had already had enough of this and it was time to do what any elder would do to a child that messed around with their sword or bow like an egotistical brat. Walking up to the pair, he barely offered either the bull headed man or the strange human woman a glance before bending over and taking hold of the large metal thing, lifting it off the ground with barely a grunt before moving it to carry over his shoulder. Looking dead set at the bull headed man, Khaz simply explained as if he was talking to a small cub who was in serious trouble "You will get this back when you learn not to be a bull headed lunatic with it. Weapons are not toys to play with."


@Andreyich
@NecroKnight

@Bright_Ops@NecroKnight

John was staring down at the felinid waiting for a response and had a little mud in his ear; he did not hear the hoofbeat of the beastman approaching and did not even notice his weapon lifted until the man finally spoke up. He turned his gasmasked head and laughed a little, "It's funny you call me bullheaded!" he began, until he realised he had no trigger discipline and his fingers were millimetres away from turning the felinid and even John into a fine red mist. "Err, you mind moving that hand a little away from there? That is the part that makes it fling plasteel." He tried not to sound menacing, in case the goat-man saw it as a taunt and would pull the trigger not knowing what it did; if he did John at least knew Khaz would not be prepared for the recoil even though he was clearly strong enough to deal with it once accustomed.

"'ere, I had something for you; you behaved honourably and deserve reward for such a thing. I hope the challenge is still in effect; I'd love to spar some day." He said as he once again opened his footlocker and withdrew the old amasec. "People have been known to kill each other for this stuff, it's at least as old as me. I only tried it once but it tastes great, and it's got a buzz nothing else around can reproduce." He still remembered giving the same speech when handing the bottles out all those years ago when he worked in the factory.

The way he held the weapon still unnerved him, so he amended his earlier statement. "Hold it by that handle there, see. You know what? Just unlock that bit there and take off that whole box, and pull out the whole of the chain will you?" He was not particularly worried about not getting the thing back, after all the other Frateris had a whole arsenal and most of them would stay behind on the planet and would happily part with their weapons. Disappearing because some feral-world born abhuman didn't know how to deal with a weapon was not part of his plans.

@Andreyich

Meris also kept her distance at that, or atleast stood to the side of the barrel - before whispering to the Frateris. "Hey, how about we leave for a moment and cool-off? You still need to pick out an uniform - since if any Comissar sees that collection of junk on you, they will execute you on principle. Namely by take your pick: wearing the wrong outfit, disrespecting the Holy Emperor' uniform or disrespecting the Machine Spirit."

"So what do you think, recruit? Shall we get your uniform measured and in-order?" she asked, offering him a chance to get away from the obious goatman who disliked him or was just messing with him.

Khaz blinked as he looked at the human in confusion... but carefully moved his hand away from where the man had pointed out. He didn't understand the weapon he was holding and he wasn't inclined to accidentally set the thing off if he could help it; It was a weapon after all and thus it needed to be treated with the utmost care and respect.

There was something of an... awkward moment when Khaz tensed up at the man's implication that he was bullheaded... For a moment, Khaz honestly considered using the heavy weight he was no carrying as a makeshift club and taking an honest to Emperor swing at the human man... With a very, very deep breath, the urge to strike the man dead mostly passed. "...I call you Bull headed because much like the bull headed servants of the vile Dark Gods of the barren wastes of my homeworld, I suspect that you would turn on and murder your own allies in order to appease the blood thirsty voices in your head. All I have seen you do is threaten to harm and kill fellow servants of Emperor... It is making me question if you are one yourself."

Glancing at the bottle that was being offered, Khaz looked... confused by the offering. "Strange that people would kill each other over something to start fires with." Shaking his head a little, he glanced at the... strange female human for a moment before asking "Is this a common human tradition?"

@Andreyich@NecroKnight

@NecroKnight@Bright_Ops

John sniffed relucantly, nodding to the Felinid. He did his duty and gave the gift - that is until he was accused of being a worshiper of chaos. A deafening roar would escape him, one that (unbeknownst to him) any banshee would be jealous off for sheer volume. His left hand reached for his Hack-shotgun and would point it at his chest, whilst his long mono-blade be pointed at his throat, dropping the bottle to the earth. "Never associate me with such wretches!" He took a few heavy breaths before continuing. "You come from a world were such enemies have not been exterminated, and then dare to call me, a man of one of the holiest orders in the Imperium not only disloyal but a worshiper of chaos too?" He cocked the two hammers on the shotgun and pointed it at the beastman; it was not necessary to do so but it was a good sign of what was to come. As his hand shook a little he finally lowered the weapon. "It's not going to be a fun service together, is it...." he muttered. Turning a little he would stomp off unless interrupted.

He wondered what was for him next. The cat-person said something about needing a uniform. He wondered how that would be. After all, with so many regiments nothing would be true uniform. Still, he reckoned he at least had to smarten up. He went to the cleanest body of water he would find and washed his hair, and finally went for a dip albeit with his clothes still on. He would stick his armour back in his footlocker and put it once again on his back.

Afterwards he went to the camp of the Frateris soldiers, and after some socializing graciously took a heavy stubber from one of them. It wasn't the same make but close enough and used the same ammunition he had with him. Finally he would spend some forty-five minutes looking for the remains of a shop or factory that had paint. Finally satisfying himself he cracked open a pot and would set about making his armour green, with a slightly lighter green shade to make a hardly noticeable middle finger right on the breast-plate.

Finally he would look for the corpse of a Guardsman who had more or less similar stature to him and intact armour. After all, he had to look right and poncey for the officers. He would be strolling through the death and destruction singing a prayer as he looked for a big-git like him.

Throughout the entire debacle with the Frateris militia man, the Commissar, the Captain and that nice Cadian woman; newly promoted Sergeant Ninke Ingran was busy throwing up the contents of her stomach. The surprisingly red tinged and vibrant colors of her vomit were not due to blood, but rather the squig she had ingested not too long ago mixed with the amasec. She vaugely noted the snap of a las pistol, yelling, much quieter yelling, and then being told she needed to go somewhere... wonderful she thought as she sat still doubled over and heaving.

That was when she heard a voice she hadn't before, it was a soft but... raspy and grating voice at the same time. She managed to turn her head a bit to look at the voice's owner. A rather thin person she couldn't at first tell what gender they were, but decided the voice matched to a woman better than a man. She tried to respond, "Hi - I a-"", was about as far as she got before retching again. Her eyes were moist, tears from all the vomitting about to start falling out of burning reflex more than any sadness. She was glad when the trooper gently started rubbing her back, which made things infinitely better... well that and being talked to rather than at. She appreciated the woman for her help, especially getting up.

She gladly let them help her up, draping an arm over her shoulders and the waist of her pants held to help support her further. Her hair was an interesting strawberry color Ninke noted, her own dirty blonde hair was currently a bit unkempt but in a... similarish style to what this woman wore her hair in. Perhaps their planets had similar customs? When she remarked that Ninke had dranken too much she groaned in agreement, deciding that being banned from alcohol wouldn't be all that bad. She then finally introduced herself... Persephone... that was a pretty name. Now that she was standing Ninke finally managed to speak without retching anymore... or she simply had nothing left in her stomach. "I aym... Ninke, peeple call me Ninke.", she responded in her thick accent before hearing the captain call what was almost her name along with the rank of Sergeant.

She had been promoted... right almost forgot about that. Persphone immediately changed the way she spoke to Ninke, which made her giggle a bit groggily. "No eet's fine haha. I vas promoted aboot... a minute ago? Less? I don't know, but just before I threw up.", she smiled at Persephone. She nodded at being offered to be accompanied to the tent, she wasn't sure she could walk reliably on her own right now. As they walked she decided to strike up some conversation... she needed to get to know someone here after all and had so far failed miserably at that. "Ehm s-so Persephone vhere are jou from? Vhat regiment? Your name ees also quite ehm... pretty.", Ninke stammered out awkwardly.

@Andreyich

Feris, despite her rationality decided to trail after the Frateris. He was as dumb as an Ogryn, maybe even more - when you told an Ogryn something he did it literally and without lip. The way he was acting - it would only take him failing tomorrow, for a Commissar to put a bolt in his brain.

Or another Commander, making an example of him. They had executed Guardsmen for lesser sentances - she didn't locate him for a good time. Until she saw that man, as usual, doing something stupid.

"I wouldn't do that - chances are, you won't find an uniform that big," humored Meris, seeing John looking around outside the camp. Likely he was looking for an uniform, since he likely lacked the brain to go ask for one. "Only an Ogryn' uniform would fit on you, and I'd wager you would get BLAMed for wearing the wrong uniform - your on thin ice as it is and the Company Commander WILL be looking reasons to scrutinize the Guards tomorrow. Plus, since your using a Stubber as a weapon, you need the uniform of a Heavy Weapon Specialist. You willing to maybe listen now, to somebody, whom has more experience in the Imperial Guard?"

“Ninke. Ninke…” Persephone whispers to herself, testing and remembering the Sergeant’s name as its syllables would roll off of her tongue. It was a new name to learn, but unlike before, she has a reason to remember it. After all, she has some trust on the people around her now as they’ve managed to survive the hellish war. No person would be able to survive it if they were so weak-willed.

Looking ahead, Persephone continues to accompany Ninke into their new Captain’s tent. The tent of the very Captain that just ordered them to get ready tomorrow and almost shot the crazed Frateris man earlier. That very Captain that held her ground as a man towered over her with gritted teeth while she coolly stood her ground without flinching or even pulling a trigger. She was a very imposing figure, to say the least.

Though, their new Captain seemed to be a polar opposite of the other officer next to her right now. This petite and fairly dainty Sergeant that is currently clinging on to her for support was anything but imposing. However, the Sergeant is quite appealing. Regardless of the scars on her face that they presumably took with them from the latest battle, they still seemed… cute?

”Ah.”

Catching herself, Persephone pushes back the thoughts that slipped through her mind. Now is not the time to appreciate people’s appearances. The officer’s giggle didn’t help with her thoughts either. More so when Ninke spoke again.

"No eet's fine haha. I vas promoted aboot... a minute ago? Less? I don't know, but just before I threw up." Persephone momentarily stops to take that in. “You… were promoted right before you threw up, Ma’am?” she pauses to give the officer a small smile. “One would usually get promoted when they are sober, yes?” she lets out a chuckle, amused in the way that Ninke spoke in her inebriated state, and her accent in in comparison to Persephone’s. Persephone wouldn’t blame the Sergeant, though, considering the officer’s state in general.

"Ehm s-so Persephone vhere are jou from? Vhat regiment? Your name ees also quite ehm... pretty," the smaller woman inquired hesitantly. Persephone read the stammering as an effect of the amasec and the physical exertion that the other had just gone through earlier. However, as a response, she shrugged a bit before responding. “I am from the third Wisps Light Infantry Regiment. We hail from a planet called Settler’s Bane.” Persephone pauses before continuing, pushing back some lingering emotions from all the lost men and women from the recent war. She keeps herself from showing these negative emotions, and instead thought of the right words to express what she needs to say. “Nothing much can be said of our planet, other than it is harsh. But so are other planets. But we are happy that it provides for us and all others.” Persephone makes a curt nod to her own statement.

“But thank you. My name is said to come from a goddess of harvest and fertility. But we all know that only the Emperor can bless us that,” Persephone says with a shrug. ”But, Ma’am, your name also calls for a compliment. May I ask you if it means something?” she asks with a glance towards the other while she tried to ignore the sounds of ballistic gunfire from the Militiamen and women nearby.

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