[I]Time: 7 PM, Location: Deck-Barracks 792, aboard the Transport Frigate 'Castellan'[/i]

Heat from the thrusters washed over the stoic face of Colonel Nizar, reminding him temporarily of his own desert homeworld of Tallarn, the data-slates upon his camp table rattling with the vibrations of the transports descent and final landing onto the carpet of frosted Vernum earth; like some vast aquatic creature, one of the whales of Ancient Terra perhaps, the landing ramp opened into a gaping maw, hundreds of white-and-black clad soldiers - along with their smoke-spouting Chimera transports - seemingly consumed by the vehicle at an astonishing rate. Within moments the ramp would close once more, all those within now locked or sat securely in place, the stone-grey transports lifting off once more into the atmosphere and the waiting ships of the Imperial Navy above - this had been going on since the early hours of the morning, and only now did the regimental commander have a little time to think.

Since sitting himself down at his desk, open to the air and the elements, and near surrounded by a multitude of aide-de-camps, political officers and experienced veterans, he had watched thousands of soldiers from other regiments lift off-planet and up to the frigate-class ship [i]Castellan[/i] where his own regiment - already being unofficially called the 'First Vernum Mechanised Regiment' by those same formations - would soon be going; sturdy Cadians from the 12th Cadian Armoured, disciplined Mordians and Praetorian Guardsmen of the XXVI regiment marching in lockstep, Savlar Chem-Dogs and even a couple of Penal formations, all had already departed for Colonels next port of call...the next warzone for he and those under his command.

"Junior-Commissar Sigrun."

Having up until this point been more concerned with observing the order of her assigned regiment, Kata Sigrun now turned to her attention to the hawk-faced man - and did her best to ignore the looks from company commanders and commissars of her new regiment as she responded - moving up to stand to the side of the Colonel.

"Colonel?"

"What do they call this?"

With his thickly accented Low Gothic and his presentation of an object before her eyes it took a moment for the blue-eyed officer to answer. Those same eyes narrowing to take in the bladed weapon held in his toughened hand, the Colonel not even turning his head from the flashing slate he held in his other hand, various facts and figures about the mingled cultures of the 87th running through her mind until she finally found what she was searching for.

"Signature weapon of those regiments from planet designated colloquially as 'Settler's Bane', in reference to the 87th of those survivors of the regiment named the 3rd Wisps; both a traditional sidearm, as well as being known for more spiritual reasons and even concerned with personal identity."

"Identity..." muttered Nizar, giving a brief nod which sent the Junior-Commissar back into the crowd about him, "identity."

Something that had been concerning the commanding officer of the 87th since the inspection only a day before, Nizar held the confiscated combat knife of the 'Wisps' in one hand while touching the hilt of his own [i]Khalig[/i] - the curved combat blade and traditional close quarters weapon of the Tallarn Desert Raiders, and pondered still on how best to unite his own regiment.

Unity through division, that how he would bring them together.


[hr]


The [i]Castellan[/i] was a frigate-turned-transport, one of a multitude of vessel designs no longer part of Imperial Naval rotation any more, a vast ship with more than a little history behind it. Over the last few decades various gun-decks and torpedo bays and hangers had been emptied out, deck after deck turned into quarters for thousands of Imperial Guardsmen, complete with shooting ranges, improvised canteens and row after row of camp-beds lined up one next to the other; the 87th were fortunate enough to get one of these decks to themselves, their vehicles placed at one end of the expansive interior space, their infantry assigned by company to their sleeping spaces - each man and woman issued with enough rations to last the expected journey to their next deployment, with passes to the more social areas of the ship, and with enough pay in their pockets to make gambling quite the problem for commanding officers and commissars alike.

Above this morass of bodies and equipment, chatter and din, were the quarters and offices of said superiors - each having their own room and administrative workspace that could only be accessed by a staircase running up to a gantry that was placed about the outer edge of the deck.

In his own office now sat the Colonel, instructions for his regiments next deployment held in his hand, Commissars Castor ([@Hank]), and Sigrun, as well as a third figure that was not known to either of them, standing before the desk of their CO and waiting for the smaller man to speak. This newcomer was six-feet and five-inches of solid muscle, his brown hair cropped short against his head, and his scarred mouth a constant smirk against his otherwise handsome features, clothed in the sombre brown trenchcoat of his former regiment and with his helmet stuck beneath his arm, it was simple enough to known that he hailed from the ranks of the Armageddon Steel Legion - the Armageddon 808th Steel Legion, to be exact, a regiment of some distinction.

"D Company is the most divided within our regiment," spoke the Colonel, his eyebrows moving of their own accord on his sun worn face, "the rest being solidly built from Cadian and Hirisit foundations." He let out a long sigh, tapping a couple of his fingers against the surface of his desk, "and now Captain Weiss has been taken from both company and regiment by an unknown malady, well, what am I to do?!" The answer to the rhetorical question was quickly forthcoming, one arm gesturing to the man stood beside the two Commissars, "this is Captain Laurie Rochus of the Steel Legion, he is to be the good Captains replacement for D Company, please treat him well and give him all assistance."


[hr]


Once the trio had ascended the stairway, feet planted firmly on the lower deck now, they made their way immediately to the upper-left corner where D Company had been assigned their living space for this voyage and called a general assembly of the sub-formation. Slowly but surely the company assembled about them, from the lowest private to the most senior NCO, Rochus mounting a table that was being used for a game of cards and lifting his voice, which turned out to be a smooth baritone.

"Soldiers of D Company, Captain Weiss is no longer in command here - I am. I am Captain Rochus, your new cee-cee and formerly of the Armageddon 808th. I am here, along with a number of my fellows, to make certain that the 87th Combined turns itself into one of the most formidable mechanised formations this side of Holy Terra!" He waited a moment for any cheers or jeers, a couple of each being thrown at him and his heartfelt speech, before going on "I have been ordered by the Colonel to send those of the 3rd Wisps ([@mackielars]) - whom ever they might be - to his office, and to answer any questions you may have for me at present...so...anyone?"

[@Bright_Ops][@Hank][@mackielars][@Rultaos][@Andreyich][@NecroKnight][@Dannyrulx][@agentmanatee]