Amaranth

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

Octavia peeled an eye open and peered at Phrike as he got up from his bunk and made his way over to hers. He reminded Octavia of voidborn humans-- those born on a great star-faring vessel and not on solid ground. They were usually very pale and had something 'off' about them. Some were considered bad luck or ill-omens, not that Octavia ever had a problem with them. Plenty of her own platoon felt she was jinxed due to the amount of injuries and close calls she had sustained over the years. Personally, the Armageddonite felt indifferent towards such notions. When He decided it was her time, she would go.

"I didn't get my name called." the Man declared.

Octavia sat up in her bunk and gave a shrug. Whatever he was before, he's a legionnaire now. The woman couldn't help but smirk at the way the uniform looked on the lanky man. Something about the way it hung off of his thin body was oddly comedic. Before the man could respond, the madman from earlier, Nathan or Haythan or something close to that yelled something again and distracted the pale legionnaire. The crazy one began laughing a laugh that made Octavia's scars itch and her gaze to unfocus as she searched for something around the room to focus on. Finally the madman cut his laughing short and Octavia looked back to see why. He appeared to be puzzling around with his lascarbine. It pained Octavia to see a holy instrument of the Emperor's Will treated with such disrespect. The Mute hummed a tune of disappointment as another guardswoman walked over and attempted to show him how to use it.

This woman was also whip-thin but she didn't exactly look malnourished like the other one. Save for maybe her face, which had the skin pulled taut over the bone, either from malnutrition or narcotics of some kind. She did stand out from the average prisoner for the most part.

"Hey, lady, you were in the Guard, right? Am I right about how this thing works, or what?" The newcomer inquired, presumably towards Octavia.

The Veteran made an 'I guess it can't be helped' "Hmph" noise and swung her body out of the cot. The more people that reliably knew how to carry out the Emperor's Will the more likely they would be to complete It, and carrying out His Will started with learning to use a lascarbine. The one they were issued wasn't exactly the same as the Voss Pattern that Octavia had been so used to carrying and using in the Steel Legion but it was similar enough that there would be no issues relearning how to use it or teaching these former convicts.

Octavia looked over the woman's posture and made some minor adjustments to how she held the weapon. Failure to hold the instrument properly under firing conditions could and would result in serious burns to your hand. Moving on, she pointed out the charge pack release button and what it did. Pressing it, and causing the current charge pack to fall into her hand and then slapping it back into place. After that she pointed out the safety and how flipping it to a certain position prevented firing. Finally she grabbed her own lascarbine and drew their attention to the sights. Gesturing to her dominant right eye (the one coloured an unnatural amber hue) she indicated that one should use the grove provided to line up the barrel and receiver of the weapon to the eye for a more accurate shot. Hoping that she did an adequate job of showing the bare functions of the weapon non-verbally she set her lascarbine down and smirked to herself almost imperceptibly in the gloom of the barracks.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

:c Get well soon close friend!

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

Octavia listened intently to the speech the Arbitrator was barking out. It sounded pre-written but it did not much matter to the newly-minted penal legionnaire. Speeches reminded her of the time spent in the Steel Legion. Not exactly happier times, but times looked fondly back on nonetheless. Time had a funny way of making even the worst experiences rose-coloured.

Eighth Squad, First Redemption Penal Legion. She chewed the idea around in her mind. A fairly bland name, most likely fresh off the Administratum data-slate. Most regiments had nicknames, even if they were just amongst the troops. Only Kriegers went solely by their given numbers. Octavia was sure a nickname would come with time. She looked around furtively at the troopers to her left and right. Some of them looked like they couldn't find the backside of a chimera. Others looked like they'd rather kill humans and be done with it.

The telltale whine of transports became ever more clear and invaded the Trooper's thoughts until the order was give to embark and years of muscle memory kicked in. Octavia marched (if it could be called that) up the ramp and through hard-won experience snatched a seat close to the cockpit. The seats further in the towards the aft of the transport got the worst of the flying experience (not to mention you had to dodge any lunches that decided to escape) so front seats were a premium. Octavia cradled her lascarbine as the engines rumbled and Eighth squad left their temporary homeworld for the Crusade.

Many of the other troopers seemed unnerved by the dimly lit and vaguely foreboding corridors of the Dauntless-class light cruiser Wandering Iron. Octavia guessed it was their first or second time on a voidship because they were all like this. On the upper decks they were mostly well lit but in the lower decks where most Guardsmen were confined to they were like sewers of ancient technology and long forgotten chambers. Finally they arrived in the gigantic empty bunking area. Eighth squad was assigned to an empty corner of the disused room and already legionnaires were taking lockers and bunks. Octavia picked one between two troopers she vaguely recognised and smacked the mattress with the stock of her lascarbine to make sure there was nothing horrible hiding in it. Once it was confirmed safe she set her pack and flak vest on the locker and leaned the carbine against the two before taking off her helmet and flopping semi-gracefully on the bed.

It had been a long 24 (give or take some) hours.

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

Have fun! I should have my post up today.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

All good :D

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

Yeah I should have a post up in the next day or so.

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

I'm hyped!

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

Shai half listened to the rest of the tour, only really paying attention at the end to the crew lounge. Thankfully the Twi'lek exile could indeed cook (although not very well) so she wouldn't have to survive off nutripaste. It was one of the only skills she held onto since her youth in slavery. As they were standing around in the cockpit, something curious happened. The Captain, who up until this point was all business, seemed to make a joke. Shai raised an eyebrow and exhaled quietly at the delivery of the joke but otherwise made no moves to laugh. At least the Captain has a working sense of humour. The rest of the crew left the pilot and co-pilot to their work in the cockpit and moved on to the engine room, which was behind the bunks.

As the Captain explained all the dials and lights and blinking screens to the Dug, Shai leaned against the doorway to the engine room and glanced around at the rest of the compartment. The two giant discs must be the engine itself. Or maybe the hyperdrive? Maybe the hyperdrive was further back behind some panels? Shai tried to think back to what the hyperdrive looked like in other ships she'd flown in. Unfortunately she had never cared and hadn't bothered to look. Well, at least she wasn't the engineer. Shai had to admit that the ship didn't look nearly as bad as she had expected it to from the outside. Although she wasn't the best judge and that it was probably the result of an overhaul or numerous extensive retrofits. In fact, even to Shai's untrained eyes several pieces in the engine room alone looked to be from some other ship or just younger parts than the hull they were mounted on.

"Liak'ykam, Shai, help Zekha with whatever he needs until we break atmosphere."

The Twi'lek blinked twice before fulling understanding the meaning and nodding in acknowledgement. There's a first time for everything. Shai pushed herself off the wall and let the captain and the other crew members by before she re-entered the engine room and looked at the Dug, Zekha, the Captain called him. Shai looked at Zekha expectantly, like a rookie soldier looking at their Sergeant for orders. Zekha looked up from his work and addressed the Wookiee first. Her job was to look at some screens and make sure nothing went over a certain point. Seemed simple enough. Once he was finished explaining things to the Wookie he turned to Shai.

"There's not a lot you can do right now that wouldn't take me hours to make you understand anything that isn't more basic than buttered Gorg jerky, so there's a basic pre-flight checklist for securing the ship before departure. Doors, ramps, equipment that's laying around, things that sound very wrong, make sure it's secure or somebody's going to get a concussion or worse if our Trandoshian pilot turns out being an alcoholic or a death stick addict. We'll go over anything you don't know after I make sure everything here is passable."

Shai nodded curtly and replied with a short, "Got it."

Okay this shouldn't be so bad. A simple inspection. Shai had done lots of inspections. Although most were of soldiers and not ships but it was the same thing really. You look for the things that appear out of place and you beat it into submission right? Zekha offered hearing protection but unfortunately ear plugs don't really work on ear cones so Shai refused them as politely as she could. The Exile began to retrace her steps from the tour, making sure anything she could see that was loose was promptly secured with a rope or net or box of some kind. She tucked a fire suppression device back into its nook from where it had fallen before entering the cargo hold once more.

Now this was the real challenge wasn't it? Shai began the tedious work of scooting empty and full crates of all kinds into neat piles before dragging a net over them so they wouldn't slide around. Several of them were ungodly heavy but thankfully Shai Rivelia was no weakling and managed to push them into place. The blue-skinned woman glanced over the hold one last time before remembering that the other Twi'lek, Woo'rah had a 'workshop' down here. Shai walked over to where she remembered the taller woman to have her hammock and asked, "We're getting ready for departure, is all your stuff squared away down here?"

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

I should have a post up sooooooon.

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

It's all good, just didn't want you to forget about us :D