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    1. Aegis1650 11 yrs ago

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Who all else are we waiting for?
In Closed 9 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Name:Patrick O'Malley
Nicknames/Aliases:Vape
Rank:Legionair
Age:30
Gender:Male
Appearance:

Weapon(s):Merovech Model 481 "Persuader" Lasgun with 4 clips, Volg "Ripper clip" Auto pistol with 3 100 round belts, 3 Frag grenades, 1 krak grenade
Armor/Clothing: Loose ragged rags and strips of cloth wraped and tied about himself to ward off the worst of natures punishments, woven into this are various plates and pieces of carapace armor, allowing for flexibility and fair protection, if quite weighty. Dust goggles, standard issue and a Salvar rebreather with tank, secondary rebreather tank with frenzon
Equipment: Bedroll, Aquilla pendent, Fathers colonel rank insignia, Infantrymans uplifting primer (oddly worn out, as though it's a handmedown), A colection of dogtags, of various names and regiments (the origin of most being a mystery to him). Chem kit (if asked it's for water and food purification and detox, and while it can infact be used for these purposes, he uses it for making various drugs) One general purpose mess bowl.

History:Born on the hive world of Necromunda, patrick was destined right from the get to a rough life. In the lower slums of the city his family lived in a "small tenet". At least thats what it was called by the land lord, in reality it was nothing more that a makeshift flakboard hovel, small and cramped even for just his two parents and himself. As life went on, his parents honest living got them nowhere, and patrick only wanted what was best for them, so with much reluctance, as he knew his parents would be appauled by it, he began making his living as a hive ganger. The work was messy, loathsome, and far from the Emperors grace, but the pay was worth it, the money he was able to bring home did much to help his parents. And while the Emperor may protect, he is also harsh. As he and his parents were finally amassing enough wealth to move up out of the slums, nowhere fancy by anymeans, but a least a structure that was genuinly designed for habitation, his choice caught up with him, and the Emperors retribution was devistating. He came home to find his parents butchered, their savings gone, and a marking of the rival gang scrawled on the walls in blood. But this was not all, as fate would have it, after weeping uncontrolably for the better part of 20 minutes while holding his deceased loved ones, he got up, resolving himself to aveng them, he'd burn the entire hive to the ground if needs must. The Arbites showed up fashionably late to the party however, and the inspector, seeing a known hive ganger in a hovel, a grim look on his face, and the blood of two dead individuals all over him, quickly shut the book on that case, by arresting him, and sending the badly over taxed Arbites on their way. The trial was about as quick as the arrest, he was sentence to life, on Savlar, to serve the imperium honestly till the day finally came when he would be judged by the Emperor. His life their seemingly blurred together until he was given an honest chance at redemption. His crimes against the Imperium could be forgiven, he could even be freed, and persue his vengence, all he needed to do was to be deemed worthy through actions in serving the the Penal Legions, And so, Patrick joined the 48th Savlar Chem Dogs regiment.
Personality:Quiet and patient, Patrick is much more, obedient, than the typical legionaire, he tends to limit interaction with others outside of mission related matters, though anyone who has a drink with him will find that is the key to open him up. Patrick seemingly always wants to be the leader, though he knows his place and sits by patiently, however, on the few occasions he has had command, for whatever ill fated reasons, he has shown a grasp of the tactica imperialis far greater than that of most senior guard officers, quite the task for a man with no recolection of opening one up.
Alright, lets see how this goes

Name: Patrick O'Malley
Nicknames/Aliases: Vape
Rank: Legionnaire
Age:30
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Weapon(s):Merovech Model 481 "Persuader" Lasgun with 4 clips, Volg "Ripper clip" Auto pistol with 3 100 round belts, 3 Frag grenades, 1 krak grenade

Armor/Clothing: Loose ragged rags and strips of cloth wrapped and tied about himself to ward off the worst of natures punishments, woven into this are various plates and pieces of carapace armor, allowing for flexibility and fair protection, if quite weighty. Dust goggles, standard issue and a Salvar rebreather with tank, secondary rebreather tank with frenzon

Equipment: Bedroll, Aquilla pendent, Fathers colonel rank insignia, Infantryman's uplifting primer (oddly worn out, as though it's a hand-me-down), A collection of dogtags, of various names and regiments (the origin of most being a mystery to him). Chem kit (if asked it's for water and food purification and detox, and while it can infact be used for these purposes, he uses it for making various drugs) One general purpose mess bowl.

History: Born on the hive world of Necromunda, Patrick was destined right from the get to a rough life. In the lower slums of the city his family lived in a "small tenet". At least that's what it was called by the land lord, in reality it was nothing more that a makeshift flakboard hovel, small and cramped even for just his two parents and himself. As life went on, his parents honest living got them nowhere, and Patrick only wanted what was best for them, so with much reluctance, as he knew his parents would be appalled by it, he began making his living as a hive ganger. The work was messy, loathsome, and far from the Emperors grace, but the pay was worth it, the money he was able to bring home did much to help his parents. And while the Emperor may protect, he is also harsh. As he and his parents were finally amassing enough wealth to move up out of the slums, nowhere fancy by any means, but a least a structure that was genuinely designed for habitation, his choice caught up with him, and the Emperors retribution was devastating. He came home to find his parents butchered, their savings gone, and a marking of the rival gang scrawled on the walls in blood. But this was not all, as fate would have it, after weeping uncontrollably for the better part of 20 minutes while holding his deceased loved ones, he got up, resolving himself to avenge them, he'd burn the entire hive to the ground if needs must. The Arbites showed up fashionably late to the party however, and the inspector, seeing a known hive ganger in a hovel, a grim look on his face, and the blood of two dead individuals all over him, quickly shut the book on that case, by arresting him, and sending the badly over taxed Arbites on their way. The trial was about as quick as the arrest, he was sentence to life, on Savlar, to serve the imperium honestly till the day finally came when he would be judged by the Emperor. His life their seemingly blurred together until he was given an honest chance at redemption. His crimes against the Imperium could be forgiven, he could even be freed, and persue his vengence, all he needed to do was to be deemed worthy through actions in serving the Penal Legions. And so, Patrick joined the 48th Savlar Chem Dogs regiment.

Personality: Quiet and patient, Patrick is much more, obedient, than the typical legionaire, he tends to limit interaction with others outside of mission related matters, though anyone who has a drink with him will find that is the key to open him up. Patrick seemingly always wants to be the leader, though he knows his place and sits by patiently, however, on the few occasions he has had command, for whatever ill fated reasons, he has shown a grasp of the tactica imperialis far greater than that of most senior guard officers, quite the task for a man with no recollection of opening one up.
Alrighty, working on a CS, should be done no later that Friday evening (sorry but work is really whooping my ass). I hope you'll all enjoy your penal legionnaire buddy :D.
If your still open I wouldn't mind joining.
I think I can give this rp a whirl, would be nice to get back into writing.
Sigh, prepared assault, I was hoping they didn't anticipate us being there, oh well, time to panic.
Heinrich was sitting on an empty overturned crate, taking a pleasant smoke break, he had just done several hours down at the mine face, and his body ached. A familiar feeling, but none the less unpleasant. He took a long drag of the cigarette when his shift leader walked in and broke the news to him. “Heinrich,” said Bernard, an older balding man with a squat rotund body, “their calling in the reserves, you need to go report in,” he said flatly, a thin frown betraying his feelings. He let out a long exhale, the smoke blowing out like an engine’s revving exhaust rather that thin wispy tendrils. “So this is it then, it’s really happening, I had hoped things would calm down and it could be avoided,” he said grunting as he stood, “then I’ll be off now, wish me the best,” he said with a week smile, trying to raise Bernard’s spirits. He walked out past the older gentleman, no more words spoken, no more needing to be said, he was off to war, and there was no guarantee of returning.

He arrived to the mustering which was already alive with activity, and quickly took his place in the issue line. He caught the boxes of rounds that were practically tossed to him before being handed a stuffed pack. His brow furrowed for a moment before his question was answered, “Engineer right? This is your additional kit.” He fumbled a moment to hold the boxed rounds while sliding it over his shoulders before hurrying off to allow the men behind them their supplies. He began the tedious task of loading his mags as others were loading onto trucks, before being directed to his squads truck. He clambered in and looked around. Only seven? Out of twelve? He hoped for their sakes the other weren’t trying to desert.

Shortly after settling in the Korporal addressed him, “Heinrich, Gerd didn't show up. You're the most experienced. I want you to be assistant squad leader. Can you handle that? When we go into the attack, you control the pigs." His eyes widened slightly, “Yes Korporal, I can, and you needn’t worry, they’ll be used to the best affect.” He closed his eyes, this was almost unbelievable, he really hadn’t heard the rest of what the Korporal said, he just breathed deeply before slipping into a light slumber for the duration of the ride.

Once at their destination, he was awoken by the sudden movement of the others. He groggily stood up before shuffling to the back and jumping out of the truck. They were on a farm, quaint little countryside without the most pleasant of weather. This brought a smile smile to his face, having shortly forgotten just why they were here, and then it hit him. “What will become of this farm?” He thought to himself, “What of the people who lived here?” He steeled himself; he would have to protect this quite countryside, he and the rest of them. He finally dropped out of his little world in time to catch what the Korporal had to say, directing himself and Dupont to the left side and get dug in. He nodded curtly and made his way over in that direction. Dupont had found a patch of tall grass, concealment, a place to start. They set about digging, Heinrich’s work in the mines paying off, making plenty more headway than his comrade. After a grueling while with their small trench shovels, a pretty young woman came out with proper shovels. Heinrich smiled, no way in hell he’d let anyone past now, not with her back there. An hour past, and they had the basic frame work of their cozy little home away from home dug out. Another hour had seen to a couple grenade sumps dug out, a small berm with firing cuts and a firing step constructed. “Well, this could still use some work, but given the conditions, this may be as good as it’ll get for today,” he said wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

Then it happened, the distinct sound of diesel engines. Heinrich dropped down into the hole as Dupont pulled in there ammo. “Damn, we didn’t get a dugout for the rounds!” He cursed himself as he realized the mistake. He took to ensuring Dupont’s first belt was free of debris and ready to go before sliding the other two in close. He fixed his bayonet and peeked over the berm, a trail of halftracks approaching. Dupont rasped out, “Orders, sir?” “Remember your training, sustained fire, 5-9 bursts, take a couple seconds and readjust as necessary, another burst. You can’t take out the vehicles, but you can suppress the gunners, wait for the big gun to take out their engines, when the infantry dismount, reap your harvest. Keep the guns talking, you burst, let the other take a burst, back and forth,” he said somewhat shakily, before remembering that he was a leader now. He gathered himself quickly, “And for god’s sake don’t call me sir,” he said bluntly before taking aim down his sights, hoping the grass would conceal his longer rifle as he tried to pick out a target he could do some good against.
Right, spaced out on the larger rounds, will write up a post.
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