The end of the skirmish came as a surprise for Tigranes, the former PDF Sergeant was sure there were still other squads to take care of, and it the sudden entrance of the Cadians and the host of officers was something on a entirely different level. Tigranes could count in his fingers the number of times he had seen so many officers together in one place. He didn't knew what to feel about it, though the fact that the Cadians -real Cadians!- hadn't shot them yet was reassuring. Or maybe the officer in charge was just waiting until he could announce that they were going to be executed, some officers back home liked to do that.
He shook these thoughts away, if they were going to die there was nothing he could do to stop it. Only get nervous and then give a reason for the Cadians to shoot.
When the Colonel finally reached their little group, Tigranes snapped a salute, more out of habit than anything. Failing to do that back home would earn a soldier at least 15 lashes and docked pay. And just as his chest swelled with pride at the mention of their victory, his mind turned to the question, finding that coming up with the answer was rather easy. And so, steeling himself Tigranes stepped forwards.
"Your Excellency, that would be Octavia." He spoke up, pointing to the former Legionnaire. "She was the one that took the bunker for us and led the counter-attack to drive off the other con-" He corrected himself. "The enemy. Granted, her disability is a negative, but I figure that even with that there isn't anyone else with as much experience and training, she being former Guard and all, Your Excellency."
Tigranes kept up the barrage of suppressive fire for as long as he could. With the entire squad now inside the bunker this skirmish had turned in their favor, decisively so. Now all that the Eighth needed to do was hunker down and weather this storm. The squad assaulting their bunker wasn't large enough to manage to storm the Eighth's position successfully. And even if they were, Tigranes doubted the diminished gaggle of conscripts had the necessary skills to pull it off. Then again, the Eighth was by no means a respectable military force. But his own band of criminal conscripts had the advantage of a strong fortified position to hide in.
And, Tigranes, assumed, the Eighth in general had more military experience than the average squad within the legion. Sure, some of them like Octavia would be hard pressed to impart their wisdom upon their fellow squadmates, but Tigranes himself tried his best. Not that the middle of a firefight lent itself to a proper environment for military instruction. That's not to say that there was nothing to be done either. Tigranes had dealt with enough raw conscripts back in Hayk to know what kind of advice would be useful in the middle of combat and what lessons should be left for quieter times.
Still, this was no reason to grow complacent. The battle was not yet over, and this skirmish in the bunker would surely leave them all vulnerable to the third squad lurking somewhere else in this make believe battlefield. They were by no means "out of the tunnel shaft" yet.
He called out to compliment Octavia on her elimination of the would-be bombardier and quickly crawled closer when she motioned him. He understood her well enough, or thought he did. God Emperor above, why did she had to be mute?
The former miner steadied himself, setting lascarbine aside and taking a grenade from his belt. Going through the same motions as the Guardswoman, he threw his own grenade soon after her before dropping behind cover just as fast as he had risen and gripping his gun tight in his hand, legs straining to follow Octavia once she charged out of the bunker to finish the two stragglers off.
The weather was pleasant, a cool breeze blew through the Golden Palace's corridors as Suh made her way to one of sumptuous solars where the Padishah would soon be holding his war council. His firstborn daughter strode through the luxurious halls, paying little heed to the host of nobles, bureaucrats, priests, soldiers and servants that scurried through the marbled halls of the Golden Palace, her own set of guards following at a respectable distance. More of a question of image than anything else, nobody would dare raise a hand against a member of the Imperial family within the confines of the Golden Palace. And if they did, well, Suh had been old enough to fight by her father's side ever since they first marched against the Naga. However, it simply wouldn't do for a woman of her standing to walk around without retainers in number and bearing befitting her status.
Eventually, the Princess and her guards came to a stop before a set of ornate black doors flanked by two imposing golden statues, animated by magic and armored in plate and scale. Their shiny obsidian eyes locked upon Suh and without further prompting the set of thick doors opened magically. The Princess crossed the threshold, leaving the silent guardians behind as her guards closed around Suh. The hallways of the Padishah's private quarters were smaller than those of the rest of the Palace, but no less opulent.
If the Golden Palace complex was a city within a city, then the Padishah's quarters were a palace within a palace. A separate world reserved for a privileged few. Not even the usual serving slaves were allowed within these walls. Instead, a select group of Lamashi servants and animated constructs attended to her father. One could call it excessive, arrogant and self-absorbed for a single man to hold himself in such way. But her father wasn't a single man. Zirgun Agazi-Haster was the supreme overlord of all Lamash, the greatest among the Lamashi and by consequence the greatest among the race of man.
Still, a small part of her - properly ignored for the time being - longed for the olden days of her childhood in the old capital. Back in those times when her father shared his chambers with his family and didn't distance himself from his kin.
"No point in that." She grumbled to no one in particular, irritation welling up inside at her own childish foolishness. She was just succumbing to rose-tinted nostalgia. Her father just had a heavy weight to bear upon his shoulders, that's all.
Eventually Suh emerged from the halls into a beautiful garden, already occupied by a few other high nobles, no doubt there to attend to the council, and pretty servants in the finest of silks. On the other end of the garden stood a tall white marble wall, with a yellow door flanked by two more animated statues. The Princess moved into the garden while her guards withdrew back into the corridors, to wait for her summons in one of the anterooms where the retainers of the other nobles were no doubt already waiting.
It did not take long for her to start mingling, exchanging greetings and kisses with the perfumed nobles and commanders. Truth be told, it was not often that her father called a war council, specially not one with that many representatives from all the corners of the Empire, something big was going to happen, of that Suh was sure ever since she got word of distant generals being summoned to the capital. For the past decades the Padishah had decided to focus the Empire's energy inwards. No major offensives or campaigns, just the concerted effort to strengthen the Empire, with the occasional support lent to their fellow faithful around the world.
For that Suh was glad. Despite her reputation and the image she herself cultivated, the Princess had no love for the battlefield. It was her duty and nothing else, something that had to be done to protect the Empire and serve the Goddess against the Western crusaders. And since the Infidels themselves had remained mostly to themselves these last years, she felt no guilty for enjoying this lull in the fight. Specially when it gave her time to spend with her children and grandchildren, to finally get to know and bond with her descendants. Even if for some of these relationships it was already to late to truly salvage any meaningful bond. That was one of the things that kept her awake in those nights when she was unable to fight off the guilt.
It did not take long after her arrival for the yellow doors to open by themselves. A clear signal as any. And due to her status, Suh was the first one entering the council room, followed closely by the others.
Inside she found her father sitting in a golden sunburst throne atop a raised dais between two carved marble columns. Large silken banners hung in the walls behind him. They all bowed obsequiously before the Padishah and took their places around the low table of shiny black placed before the Padishah's dais. Suh herself settled on a pillow at the right hand end of the table, closest to her father.
The Padishah was as imposing as he had ever been. Still looking the same as he did when he emerged from the Angel's Pool in Sadra Piresh 300 years ago. Now he stood, as regal as ever, regarding the assembled grandees of Lamash as he would any other gaggle of servants.
"I bid you greetings, my servants."Zirgun started, he did not shout and yet his rich voice filled the room, rolling like thunder through Suh's ears. "I have summoned here the greatest among my warriors and generals for the time has come to once again look outwards." And just like that all of Suh's fears and suspicions were confirmed.
"For too long the servants of the Goddess have allowed themselves to grow complacent, their efforts paltry and uncoordinated while the Western Abomination grows ever stronger. We have done what we can, even now an army sails to the north to support battered and weak Evernyx against the depredations of savages and infidels. But that is not enough. If we are to save the world from Western savagery then the servants of Yuwan must stand as one. I have summoned all noteworthy Yuwanist powers for a conference in Oracheos, and I shall soon be travelling there myself to join the talks and, if the visions have been properly interpreted, forge the disparate armies of the Faithful into the force that will turn the tide of this war.
But regardless of what happens in the Holiest City, Lamash must prepare itself all the same. As the Chosen People, that's our burden to bear. Even if all else fails, specially if all else fails, the Lion must wake up once again to shake the world with its roar!" The Padishah finished with a triumphant gesture of his arms, sitting down amidst applause and cheer. He silenced the room with a wave of his hand before continuing:
"And that's why you have been summoned here, my loyal servants. Many of you have been writing to me over these past years citing your concerns over our continued complacence and offering plan after plan, suggestion after suggestion. Now you will make your concerns and ideas known before this council. Today we take the first step into mobilizing our great empire for war."
-The Padishah has summoned all Yuwanist powers for a conference in Oracheos to discuss matters of urgent importance regarding the war. -Lamash is mobilizing
Tigranes would've liked to continue his talk with Gate, there was still some things he would've liked to say. But as much as he would've liked to continue on his, admittedly self-righteous, tirade, that Phrike fellow was right. They were expendable and right now it would probably be simpler in the Arbitres' eyes to kill anyone raising too much of a ruckus. Even if he, hopefully, proved himself a loyal and dependable servant of Him on Terra, Tigranes would still be nothing more than a very expendable pawn. Not that he wasn't that before in Redemption or serving in the Haykan Royal Army. Hells, if one were to look back enough he wasn't exactly worth much during his days digging tunnels before the civil war. But then again, Tigranes was never one prone to much self-reflection or resenting his lot in life, (past few months notwithstanding), he was born a bonded serf and if not for the civil war he would've died a bonded serf like his forefathers before him and the sons he would have if not for the war.
Now however, he was a soldier. Had been one for the past eight years (his stint in the Penal Colony excluded). The difference was that now he was directly serving the God Emperor to atone for the sins of his past. So he decided to act like one and extend his hand to Phrike and let his little argument with Gate slide.
Then Sergeant Mason popped out of the shadows and derailed everything. Truth be told the moment the Catachan spoke up, Tigranes reached for his knife. Given his current circumstances, the Legionnaire had more than enough reason to be jumping at shadows. The revelation that the bandana-wearing mass of muscles and scars would be their immediate commanding officer...well it didn't brought him relief exactly...but he was hopeful that the Jungle Fighter would be able to lead the squad better than a trigger-happy Abitrator. At least this Mason looked to have far more first-hand combat experience, that by itself would hopefully prove to be valuable for the Eighth Squad.
With introductions done, their new Sergeant left and Tigranes returned to his corner of the hold, plopping himself upon the mattress and pulling out his gear from his locker. He was never one to fell asleep fast, and when he did he was a light sleeper. With just two hours until whatever was supposed to be their first task as Legionnaires, Tigranes decided that his time would be better spent checking his gear and making sure everything was in order, or as much as it could be. Judging by his armor's sorry state, the flak vest by itself had seen more combat than him. The less said about the uniform the better. Though at least the Lascarbine at least looked to be working as intended as Tigranes did his usual thorough inspection of the weapon and prayed to its machine-spirits.
The two hours went by excruciatingly slow for Tigranes, and by the time Sergeant Mason and Arbitrator Kelm showed up, Tigranes had to stop himself from running at them in his eagerness to know just what they were supposed to do. And as the two led the squad through yet more cramped, badly lit corridors, the Legionnaire couldn't help but feel a growing uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Sure, by the looks of it they would most likely end up in some kind of training exercise (being all geared up and such) but even if it were the case, Tigranes doubted the training exercises in a Penal Legion would be anything like he had experienced before.
As it turned out, he was right. No crawling through barbed wire, running laps or firing drills. His new commanding officers apparently preferred a much more intense way of testing the skill of their new troops. A small part of him would later surface and wonder about the morality of killing his fellow Legionnaires. Sure, they were the scum of the Imperium, but so was Tigranes. Didn't they deserve the same chance to earn redemption as him? By the time this reasoning finally dawned upon him, in some date of the unknown future, it would be something akin to a flashing thought, barely understood and soon forgotten, for Tigranes was very much a simple man, not prone to getting lost in thought or great philosophical musings, Emperor above, he wasn't even literate...
As the klaxons blared however, any future or present thoughts went ignored or forgotten as instincts took over and he dove behind the blackened husk of a car with a shout of "Take cover!", placing himself prone as he fired at whatever exposed targets he could spot. Shooting down a few, either dead or wounded, and sending others scrambling for cover as several other members of the Eighth joined him in his spot, those who in the lack of any better options decided to stick with the closest squadmate with some military experience.
Not much time had passed since the start of the exercise, and as adrenaline rushed through his veins, Tigranes looked for Octavia. A Guard veteran like her would surely be a good bet to stick with in this situation. Now if only he could find her...
And there she was, waving frantically from the door of a bunker. Tigranes nodded to nobody in particular, Octavia knew what she was doing.
"Comrades!" He called out to the other Legionnaires around him as he gestured towards Octavia. "We have to get to that building! When I give the sign, run as fast as you can and keep your head down!"
Without waiting for a response, Tigranes peeked out from cover, firing one last spray of lasfire to keep the enemy with their heads down before taking off with a shout of "Follow me!" to his fellow squadmates.
The former miner ran as fast as his legs could carry, head held low and gun gripped tight in his hand. He could hear shots passing nearby but didn't dare to stop and look. Neither for the enemy nor to see if any of the other convicts had actually followed him.
Tigranes only stopped when he was inside the building, barely managing to avoid running into Octavia. He looked to the former Guardswoman, as he leaned on a stone wall, panting, waiting for some kind of command or instruction from the veteran before he looked through the other door and saw the approaching enemy. Firing wildly to suppress the other squad as he moved into position near the opposite door.
Gate listened to Shiah, Octavia and Tigranes converse (or gesticulate, as in the case of Octavia) and felt a sense of bitter cynicism rise in his gut.
Look at them - posturing as if they were the Emperor's finest... knowing what end of the stick the laser comes out of doesn't make you better than the rest of us.
He sat quietly and brooded for a few moments, before standing up and walking over as Tigranes finished speaking. His initial thoughts of friendly ice-breaking had somewhat diminished.
"That's very thoughtful of you, friend", he says, approaching from behind Tigranes, "I bet you'd love to take care of all our gear. I hadn't realised that taking that shuttle trip suddenly made you less of a criminal."
Gate's faux-charming friendly demeanour drops.
"Stay away from my stuff. Here's some better advice for the lot of you - firing that gun should be the least of your priorities. You should be thinking more about how you'll avoid needing to fire it, so you'll survive longer than five seconds when they throw you into the meat grinder."
He glances over his shoulder, suddenly concerned that an official may be listening.
Tigranes was aware that most likely he would be facing the same amount of "peoples trouble" in the Legion as back in Redemption. He just wasn't expecting it to come so fast and so blatantly at him. Specially not after he had gone to the trouble of joining the impromptu training section. But assholes were everywhere and Tigranes had his fair share of experience in dealing with the sort. In this particular case, he decided to refrain from too much hostility. After all, this Gate was still his comrade in arms and that alone earned him some minor measure of respect. Besides, too much aggressiveness and posturing might lead to unfortunate accidents in the future.
Of course, if the smuggler continued to be an right and proper asshole then a change of tactics would be needed.
"I'm a criminal, ay." Tigranes conceded. "But I'm here because my master was a heretic and because of the blood I shed in his name. Not petty thievery." His tone grew firmer as he continued. "However, the fact that all of us volunteered to be here means that, regardless of our previous crimes, we have taken the first steps in expiating our sins in the eyes of Him on Terra by accepting a life of sacrifices on the battlefield in His name."
He gave a pause, fixing Gate with a glare
"At least in theory." He shrugged. "I'm sure some of us may falter when the time comes to prove our dedication to the path of redemption. But right now I'm willing to give our squadmates the benefit of the doubt. At least while we're getting to know each other."
Tigranes shrugged.
"I'm not saying that I'm actively looking to die. But the chances of that happening to all of us are indeed quite high. However, as long as we carry out the God Emperor's will through our sacrifice then we die with clean souls. After all, isn't redemption the whole point of this?" He gestured with wide open arms to the Hangar. "And now I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're just defending the merits of subtlety and infiltration in combat rather than actually suggesting we actively avoid our duties."
Tigranes was not a man used to Void travel. Truth be told, the only other time when the newly-minted Legionnaire stepped on a void ship was during his transport to the dreary hellhole in which he had lived these last months. At the time he really wasn't in the right state of mind to really pay attention to the finer points of the trip, worried more about not getting himself killed amidst the mass of prisoners and lost souls packed in a hold too small guarded by trigger happy Armsmen. Which, in hindsight wasn't really THAT objectively different from his current situation, save for the fact that this time the hold actually had enough space for its occupants and Tigranes himself was downright giddy compared to his previous stint in the deep, unlit bowels of a spaceship.
Of course, the former miner was very much aware that he wasn't exactly "out of the tunnels" yet, as his folks used to say back in Hayk. And if anything, by the end of the shift, he had just traded a slow death of hunger and overwork for a much quicker one in the battlefield. But that did not bother Tigranes, even death in battle (though not the ideal result) would be better than staying and wasting away in chains. By sacrificing himself for Him on Terra, Tigranes would at least be ensuring the salvation of his soul. And wasn't that the whole point of this? His sins in life were too big to be washed away with anything less than full sacrifice.
It was with these thoughts in his mind that he busied himself with settling in where the Arbitrator Kenelm had ordered, dragging the bedding and locker to a corner far from the bulk of the other penals. Relief flooded Tigranes when he had noticed that. His own intentions may be true but he certainly wasn't going to assume that everyone else had volunteered for the right reasons. If her were being honest with himself, Tigranes would never truly recover the easy camaraderie he enjoyed in his previous regiment here. Holy Emperor, it would be a struggle to build up enough trust just with his squad. But these things couldn't be helped. It would take time and effort to find out who among them could be trusted, to separate the reliable ones from the ones who would stab him in the kidney for half a cup of amasec. He still wasn't sure of what to think about the fact that they had so many veterans in a single squad.
And so, after storing his gear in the locker (taking care to keep the knife in his hands) and plopping himself down on the mattress, Tigranes found himself watching as the guardswoman, Octavia if he remembered correctly, gave her impromptu lesson. And as she finished, Tigranes decided to risk it and offer his own expertise. Might as well do something to build up rapport with the people who would be watching his back on the battlefield.
"I'm not meaning to imply I've got as much experience or training as a proper guardsman." He called out to make himself known as he pushed himself up and walked towards Octavia. "But I was a Sergeant in the Haykan Royal Army before ending up in Redemption, fought my fair share of battles. So I also know a thing or two about the trade. That and mining, but I think you've all done with breaking rocks by this point." He joked lamely.
"Well, what I'm saying is that if any of you have doubts about military life or the finer points or caring for your gear, I'm here to help."
NRP, Star Wars, Dragon Age and Warhammer (Fantasy and 40k) enthusiast. Feel free to PM me about any related RPs
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">NRP, Star Wars, Dragon Age and Warhammer (Fantasy and 40k) enthusiast. Feel free to PM me about any related RPs</div>
