@Toots I imagine just shining light on where they are in the black would pop both of them out. This would probably go standard without anyone or anything additional being in there either. Even then, as she is now she can do it for maybe 4 or 5 seconds at the most, if that? Just enough to get someone out of a collapsing building or through the crack of a door to get them out of a room filling with smoke. I'd like to have that develop as she does.
@Toots Oh wow, you're right, it's shockingly similar. I had no idea black even existed. It's a touch of a shame to give up the art whore aesthetic but at the end of the day it's neither here or there really. I'll edit in the quirk to be black instead.
EDIT: Modified the canon quirk to include bringing people and objects through with it. It's all in the character sheet, including limitations on that. Let me know if that's okay.
This thread took off fast! Here's my application. I'm doubling up on what Duoya said about it maybe being a little rushed. As always, I'm open to any and all feedback.
"Impulsive, irrational, with a quick temper and a rap sheet pushing the length of her arm. What is there in the world that can make a young and eager villain turn coats so passionately?"
— An uncited staff member Kokoro Academy, regarding Ieva's hero course application.
Appearance: Ieva stands at a sturdy 5 feet and 4 inches with a sturdy build and a half-oriental complexion, reflecting her mixed Japanese-European heritage. Her dark brown hair - which is often left styled by her pillow - often falls in the way of her pale blue eyes, which often hang bags underneath them. Veins press through her skin across her body, accompanied by an extensive range of tattoos and an ever-changing collection of scrapes and bruises. The faint smell of cigarettes often lingers on her clothing, mixed with her deodorant "of choice" (the one on sale) for the month.
If there ever was a victim of "resting bitch face", it's Ieva. Her outward demeanor is often described as cold and mean: complete with head cocks, disdainful glares, and thuggish expressions. In contrast of this, she often makes an effort to seem friendly and approachable, which often either falls flat and seems forced or makes her seem colder; the best example of this would be when she attempted to copy All Might with the 'saving with a smile' approach, where her smile only made her look scarier.
Quirk: Ieva's quirk, aptly named "Black", is an emitter-type quirk that allows Ieva to freely merge her body with anything colored black: ranging completely from the more conventional black paint to more obscure blacks such as darkness and shadows. She is able to take people or objects with her with extra effort, the effort required corresponding with size and how much they move around while being transported. At her current skill level, she can briefly move an average sized man through her quirk - long enough to, for example, pull someone out of collapsing rubble.
Ieva is particularly vulnerable to foes and enviroments that produce lots of light, whether intentionally or as a byproduct - such as light produced by fire. Foes that can alter their environment, whether through quirk or through damage, also are particularly dangerous to her, making it more difficult for her to navigate and essentially negating her mobility.
Questions:• Given its reputation, why apply to Kokoro Academy? "I understand that if you are asking this question, then we both understand the reputation Kokoro Academy has. As I am sure you understand, I am not a good person: tardy and absent in my classes, an extensive criminal record for a 16 year old, and my regrettable time as what many would consider a villain. I will not be considered for most of the countries hero courses for these reasons, which puts me here, writing to you. Please forgive me for being forward. I hope we always be honest with one another in future, even if it may be unpleasant."
• Why do you want to be a professional hero? "I want to turn my life around. I've done terrible things in my life and I want to make it up to the world before my time in this world is over. There are many ways I can do this, but heroes and villains are two sides of the same coin. It's all I know, the only real skill I have, and the best way for me to make up for what I once did."
• What kind of professional hero do you want to become? "I'm sorry, but I don't know how to answer this question. I want people to live comfortable and happy lives so I want to do what needs to be done to make that happen. I have no specific kind or type of hero that I aspire to become, or at least not yet."
• Best describe yourself in five sentences. "Please don't make me admit this in front of my potential classmates, but I am flawed, but I think that is what makes me a great hero student. I have a short temper, I can be impulsive, I lack discipline, and I don't like to deal with difficult things. I know that I am not a good person and that I have a long way to go before I can become a professional hero, but I do know about how villains and crime works because I have been there. What I do have is a genuine desire to grow and learn, to change and become someone that can inspire others. I hope that I can trust your academy with my humility and help me become somebody you can be proud to call one of your old students."
• What are you interests and hobbies? "I'm interested in motorcycles and spend a lot of my time maintaining my motorcycle and exploring rural areas with it. I enjoy playing mahjong and video games but don't spend much time doing it as it feels like wasted time. I've had a long time interest in cooking that I've recently turned into a hobby and have started to dabble in painting after being inspired by my quirk."
• Are there any notable accomplishments you want to us to be aware of? "Nothing specifically. The most notable accomplishment would be sending this application to you after everything before this."
• Tell us something about your quirk that most might not know? Any events or memories, be it joyous or ill, tied to it? "I can take people and objects with me when I use black. I've used it to help people escape from dead ends and to put people in traps before. When I was in juvenile prison, they put me in a cell with bright lights on around the clock and an airlock door. It made me feel really claustrophobic. I think that I'm so used to being able to escape from most places with my quirk that when I was completely trapped, it made me scared. Please don't make me admit that to my potential classmates either."
• Why should we consider you over the other applicants? What can you offer that they cannot? "I think my best answer would be what I've already written in the five sentences about myself. I am a humble blank slate who knows about the enemy of heroes and society. Please, I beg of you, help me become somebody you can be proud of one day."
Interested, if you'll have me! Currently chewing on ideas for a hunter and an uninvolved (or at least so far) human, but happy to change if there's a bias.
The lounge was very much full of life: for there's much to be done on the eve on battle, even if that may be enjoying wine and clearing the mind before pressing its limits yet again. Yet even amongst that, two men "enjoyed" each others company in a little bubble of their own. A jaded looking man with dark skin and a retreating hairline relaxed without reservation on a plush leather couch, while a younger man with side-swept blonde hair and an unsightly scar showing a few of his teeth stood crisply at the older man's shoulder.
The younger officer took the initiative. "Colonel-" "I saw it." interrupted the older officer, his voice muffled by the lho-stub stuck between his lips. "Shouldn't we-?" the younger officer began again, only to stop mid-sentence the same way he did before. "In a minute." the Colonel interjected again, before taking the time to enjoy another breath of his lho-stub. Enter Colonel Agrippa and Major Severinus. The tension between them was always some degree of palpable, but they had never once let it boil over into something more. Colonel Agrippa is a part of the regiments "old guard", life long veterans of the Imperial Guard, and bore all of the jaded malpractices and habits that came along with it. Severinus, on the other hand, is a young and ambitious up-and-comer with painfully obvious blue blood and about as much respect for the doing things by the book as a drop trooper could possibly have. They both looked down on each other for reasons of their own, need not mention Arcen-III. They both very much looked down on one another for reasons of their own, but on likewise grounds, they both consistently decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
Leaning forward, Agrippa sat his half-smoked lho-stub in a groove of the ash tray to cool. The motion was seemingly meaningless, but between the two, it was much more conclusive. Severinus neatened the positioning of his belt as Agrippa stood, where the two then started their trot towards Lord Hetman. Agrippa, true to his old habits, surveyed the room as he went; he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to not find any familiar faces in red.
p o r t _ a u x i l i a r y _ h a n g a r
Cheers and jeers erupted over the music from a gathering of guardsmen as a hand of cards was laid bare over the drop-canister-turned-table. Troopers grumbled as one of the soldiers picked up his winnings: a couple of lho-sticks, a pornographic playing card, and some ration packets. The soldiers outfits made them stick out like sore thumbs: grey jumpsuits with thick shoulders and thighs. Jump troops - soldiers dumb enough to tick off their 18 hours and come back for more.
"You with us, rookie?" cut in a thick and grizzly voice. If it didn't come in when it did, Trine might have zoned out enough to forget where she was. "H- Yes, Sergeant." Trine abruptly answered, returning to the land of the living proper. Sergeant Rusk, the source of that very grizzled voice, let out a sigh. "C'mon, keep it together, drop trooper." Rusk scolded, his scarred complexion twisting into a scowl. "What's our notice-to-move right now? Tell me you at least paid attention to that?" "Stat-three." Trine answered, her pupils narrowing as she focused. Rusk opened his mouth to ask something else, but she interjected: "Fifteen minutes." The two stopped mid-stride while Rusk chewed on her answer before he let out an affirmative grunt.
"Eighth squad!" called out Sergeant Rusk, bringing the assembly of gambling drop troopers upright and stiff. The lined up faces were all familiar to the Rusk, but they were all foreign to Trine. They were his subordinates, after all - and now, so was Trine. "Oh, don't tell me this is our reinforcement!?" called a voice from the back: a small, narrow-framed man, with bulging veins running along his forehead. "Oi, stop bitching!" snapped back another: a tan-skinned woman with cropped hair and masculine features, with Corporal insignia on her sleeves. "Eighth-!" snapped the Sergeant, commanding the attention of the squad. "Eyes and ears for a moment; you can go back to jack in a minute. This is Trooper Trine Duijvestijn, she'll be bringing us back up to 10 strong. I know what you lot are like so make sure she feels welcome, and don't tell her anything she doesn't need to hear.. got it?" The haphazardous chorus of the word 'Sergeant' was hardly professional, much more to the like of a tired routine. Quietly, Trine gulped. For it to be this small of a deal, was she just underwhelming, or was reinforcement just too common?
The Sergeants stern expression faded into something more sincere as he met eyes with the Corporal. She nodded a little to him as she pulled over a crate before slapping some dust off the top. "Hey, Trine," called out the Corporal as she waved her over, "c'mere. Let me introduce you to everyone." "Aww, Corporal! I wanted first on the rookie!" called a voice, hidden in the small crowd. "Hey, shut the fuck up, Kiril. We all know what you did the last time we got a female one-up." the Corporal retorted, drawing a chorus of jeers from the squad. Frustrated, Kiril furrowed his brow as he grumbled.
Seventh Araheim Drop Troop Regiment "The Bastard Seventh"; "The Lapdog Seventh".
"It was like the emperor ran out of angels, so he sent men brave enough to step up to the job instead."
— A retired Arbite Arbitrator on his deathbed, recollecting the Seventh landing at the Araheim Heresy.
s p e c i a l i t y
Paratroopers: Generals and admirals are always eager to get a hold of a good drop regiment and with good reason: these all-volunteer elite and unconventional troops are few and far between, capable of fighting unpredictably and quickly with reduced supplies on short notice. Surprise attacks, raids on supply lines and vulnerable positions, ambushes, and guerrilla warfare, only barely covers off the tip of the iceberg of what a good drop regiment can do. Close Quarters Experts: The soldiers of the Araheim Seventh have a long history of fighting in close spaces, whether it's the dense streets of their hive world or the narrow corridors of a spaceship. Not only are they aware of this trend but they're proud of it, being certain to keep themselves up to scratch. This makes them a popular choice for navy captains as not only are they almost two thousand pairs of hands that are comfortable with void combat, they're also able to pass on a few tricks to the ratings. Kinslayers: The foe that the Araheim Seventh excel at destroying is, tragically, their fellow man. Many veterans of the regiment can recall uncompromising raids on renegades and traitors, something which is often admitted with some hesitation. Such is the cost of "peace" in the Imperium.
f l a w s
Indebted: If it weren't for the timely intervention of the Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor Cloe Aemilius some time ago, the regiment would have many different faces. But as is expected, the assistance of the Inquisition rarely comes without a cost and Cloe in particular is quite pressing when it comes to reminding the regimental headquarters element exactly how many of their lives are owed - or in practice, owned - to him. When Cloe or another from the Hereticus pulls the leash, the seventh can only bow their head and scamper along behind them, hence the nickname "the Lapdog Seventh"; and should they refuse, the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers "assisting the regiment with training standards" will surely finish the work the Officio Prefectus was forced to leave unfinished. Untrustworthy: Many have not forgotten the broad and uncompromising purges executed by the seventh on behalf of the inquisitorial contingent at the Schism of Arcen-III, killing fellow man and traitor alike in hope of uprooting the genestealer cult. Many also have not forgotten the general retreat order executed by the seventh while other regiments stood and fought to the death against the Tyranid swarm; not least of the Officio Prefectus, who had every intention of executing the regimental headquarters element and assuming command until an inquisitorial rosette stood in their way. Furthermore, it's the worst kept secret within the regiment that the men are scarcely afraid of looting the majority of enemy weapons should their own limited supplies - which, in fairness, they do well to conserve - run too thin. While many soldiers in the regiment pass off the "Bastard Seventh" nickname as a jab at their guerrilla tactics, there is much more to it than that. Organic: While few dare talk about Arcen-III, those who recall it know too well: that forsaken swarm will one day be the end of the Imperium. Some among those even believe that they will be the end of the regiment too, once karma catches up with them and they're sent to cut off swarming supply lines that don't exist. Even on top of the difficulty that a drop regiment faces fighting the swarm, the seventh struggles even further again, struck with fear and recollection.
h u m a n _ s o u l s
2219, including attachments.
"I remember it, clear as day: our position was collapsing, the heretics were overwhelming us. I was staring down the barrel of a stub gun. Then, as I made my last prayers to the emperor, it vanished - it vanished under a boot, because one of them landed on him. It was like the emperor heard me pray but ran out of angels, so he sent men brave enough to step up to the job instead."
— A retired Arbite Arbitrator on his deathbed, recollecting the Seventh landing at the Araheim Heresy.
c o m p o s i t i o n
Regimental Headquarters Colonel Domitilla Agrippa, Commanding Officer. Major Nerva Severinus, Executive Officer. Captain Tatiana Paula, Adjutant. Captain Liviana Florianus, Operations Officer. Captain Laurentinus Septima, Regimental Quartermaster. Sergeant Major Lucretius Paulina, Regimental Sergeant Major. Four Araheim Drop Grenadiers. Two Araheim Drop Grenadier Medics.
Regimental advisers Iulius Laurentinus, Astropath. One naval officer for liaison with the navy and her aircraft assets, at the discretion of the local naval authority.
Inquisitorial attachment One squad of Inquisitorial Stormtroopers (10), commanded by Sergeant Iunia Valerius.
Officio Prefectus attachment 8 commissars and 2 junior commissars.
Adeptus Mechanicus attachment 5 enginseers.
Per Battalion Headquarters One Battalion Commander. One Battalion Executive Officer. One Operations Officer. One Regimental Quartermaster. One Regimental Sergeant Major. Four Araheim Drop Grenadiers. Two Araheim Drop Grenadier Medics.
Drop Infantry Companies Nine drop infantry companies, designed Alpha through India, accounting for 1632 of the regiments total number. There are three companies assigned sequentially to each battalion, designed 71st Araheim Drop Forces Battalion through 73rd. Each company contains: - A company command element, including a company commander (captain) and company sergeant major (gunnery sergeant). - Four platoons of drop infantry, counting at 32 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element of a platoon commander (lieutenant), platoon sergeant (staff sergeant), and 30 drop infantry. The soldiers within this are organised into three squads of ten, which include a squad commander (sergeant) and squad second-in-commander (corporal). Without operational requirements outstanding, two soldiers per squad will carry special weapons. - One platoon of heavy weapons teams, counting at 10 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element and 8 crewmen. These platoons normally operate two heavy bolters, one missile launcher, and one mortar.
Drop Grenadier Companies Three Drop Grenadier Companies, designed Alpha through Charlie, accounting for 486 of the regiments total number. There is one company assigned sequentially to each battalion. Each company includes: - A company command element, including a company commander and company sergeant major. - Four platoons of drop grenadiers, counting at 32 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element of a platoon commander, platoon sergeant, and 30 drop infantry. The soldiers within this are organised into three squads of ten, which include a squad commander and squad second-in-commander. Without operational requirements outstanding, two soldiers per squad will carry special weapons. - One platoon of heavy weapons teams, counting at 10 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element and 8 crewmen. These platoons normally operate two heavy bolters, one missile launcher, and one mortar.
Drop Light Armour Squadron Three Drop Light Armour Squadrons, designed Alpha through Charlie, accounting for 12 of the regiments total number. There is one squadron assigned sequentially to each battalion. Each crewman in the squadron crews a drop sentinel. Each squadron includes: - A squadron command element, including a squadron commander and a squadron sergeant major. - Three light armour platoons, counting at 4 per platoon. This includes a platoon commander, platoon sergeant, and 2 crewmen. One of these platoons is commanded by the squadron command element.
Drop Cavalry Squadron Three Drop Cavalry Squadrons, designed Alpha through Charlie, accounting for 24 of the regiments total number. There is one squadron assigned sequentially to each battalion. The crewmen are organised in pairs, each pair crewing a Tauros or Tauros Venator. Each squadron includes: - A squadron command element, including a squadron commander and a squadron sergeant major. - Two cavalry platoons of Tauros light vehicles, counting at 8 per platoon. This includes a platoon commander, platoon sergeant, and 6 crewmen. The two commanders crew different vehicles and one of these platoons is commanded by the squadron command element. - One cavalry platoon of Tauros Venators, set up identically to the above.
a r m o u r y
PT-38 jump suit: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in administratum grey. Webbing and pouches, Elysian 68 pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in black. Combat boots, Ieva pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in black. Jump gloves, Ieva pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in black. Synth-plast flak armour: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This includes the cuirass, spaulders, elbow pads, and knee pads. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Regimental insignia is displayed on the chest, campaign insignia is displayed on the left knee, and company designation is displayed on the right spaulder. Rank indicators for non-commissioned officers and commissioned officers are also painted onto the back of the helmet. Veterans of 8 or more drops display a red stripe on their left spaulder. Carapace armour: 632, at 3.5 men per unit. This includes the mentioned above plus complete arm and leg harness. This item is issued to grenadiers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Type 5 pressure helmet: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Atmospheric-rated respirator mask: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Gravity chute: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Lasgun, Accatran pattern mark IV: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to drop infantry. It is issued in the stock runefang steel. Lasgun, Accatran pattern mark IVe: 375, at 5.9 men per unit. This item is the standard issue special weapon. It is issued in the stock runefang steel. Laspistol, Accatran pattern mark II: 760, at 2.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to sergeants and above, as well as special weapons operators and vehicle crew. Meltagun, Accatran pattern: 125, at 17.8 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Flamer, Accatran pattern mark Ic: 125, at 17.8 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Shotgun, Accatran pattern model 34: 125, at 17.8 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Grenade launcher, Voss pattern: 125, at 17.8 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Missle launcher, Accatran pattern: 30, at 73.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to heavy weapons platoons in the place of a lascannon, as to allow it to be air mobile. Hellgun, Ieva pattern: 631, at 3.5 men per unit. This item is standard issue to grenadiers. Hellpistol, Ieva pattern: 99, at 22.4 men per unit. This item is standard issue to grenadier sergeants and above. Heavy bolter, Accatran pattern: 60, at 36.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to heavy weapons platoons. Mortar, Ieva pattern: 30, at 73.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to heavy weapons platoons in the place of a lascannon, as to allow it to be air mobile. Long-las, Ieva pattern: 170, at 13 men per unit. This item may be issued to a special weapons operator or to a grenadier with operational requirements outstanding. Lasgun power pack: 14423, at 6.5 units per man. Five of these are issued to every man with a laser weapon. Hellgun power backpack: 631, at 3.5 units per man. One of these is issued to every man with a hellgun weapon. Missile, shoulder operated: 390, at 5.6 men per unit. Ten of these are issued to each heavy weapons platoon. Promethium canister: 2993, at 1.3 units per man. Five of these are issued to each man with a flamer and three to each man with a chainsword. Ten are issued to each Tauros vehicle armed with a heavy flamer. Meltagun canisters: 2184, at 1.01 men per unit. Five of these are issued to each man with a meltagun. Drop sentinels armed with meltaguns carry ten. Laser packs: 192, at 11.5 men per unit. Ten of these are carried by Tauros Venators. Shotgun ammunition, shell: 3250, at 1.7 units per man. Twenty of these are issued to each man with a shotgun. Shotgun ammunition, slug: 3250, at 1.7 units per man. Twenty of these are issued to each man with a shotgun. Shotgun ammunition, stun: 1500, at 1.5 men per unit. These may be issued to men with shotguns with operational requirements outstanding. .75 caliber bolt magazines: 338, at 6.6 men per unit. While bolt pistols are not issued by the regiment, some attaches and officers within acquire one through their own means. Their ammunition is supplied by the regiment. .998 caliber bolt boxes: 483, at 4.6 men per unit. Ten of these are issued to each heavy weapons platoon. Six are issued to each drop sentinel armed with a heavy bolter. Mortar shells: 780, at 2.8 men per unit. Fifty of these are issued to each heavy weapons platoon. Fragmentation grenades, handheld: 5769, at 2.6 units per man. Two of these are standard issue to all drop troopers. Fragmentation grenades, ballistic: 2750, at 1.2 men per unit. Eighteen are issued to special weapon operators with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Twenty-four are issued to venator crews with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Krak grenades, handheld: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. One of these is standard issue to all drop troopers. Krak grenades, ballistic: 4000, at 1.8 men per unit. Six of these are standard issue to special weapon operators with the Accatran pattern mark IVe lasgun. Six are issued to special weapon operators with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Twenty-four are issued to venator crews with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Melta bombs: 748, at 2.9 men per unit. Two of these may be issued to special weapon operators or grenadiers in place of the standard grenade issue with operational requirements outstanding. Snare mines: 748, at 2.9 men per unit. Two of these may be issued to special weapon operators or grenadiers in place of the standard grenade issue with operational requirements outstanding. Demolition charges: 748, at 2.9 men per unit. Two of these may be issued to special weapon operators or grenadiers in place of the standard grenade issue with operational requirements outstanding. Combat knife, Ieva pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. Chainsword, Ieva pattern: 425, at 5.2 men per unit. This item is standard issue to sergeants and above. Vox-caster: 83, at 26.7 men per unit. This item is issued to command elements from platoon level to regimental level. Camouflage cloaks: 170, at 13 men per unit. This item may be issued in tandem with the long-las. 9-70 entrenching tool: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. Long range ground scanner: 425, at 5.2 men per unit. This item is standard issue to sergeants and above. Lascutter: 374, at 5.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to special weapon operators. Drop sentinels: 54, at 41 men per unit. These vehicles are crewed by the drop light armor squadrons. They are armed with either heavy bolters or melta guns, depending on operational requirements. Tauros light vehicles: 36, at 61.6 men per unit. These vehicles are crewed by the drop cavalry squadrons. They are armed with either a heavy flamer or a grenade launcher, depending on operational requirements. Tauros venators: 18, 123.3 men per unit. These vehicles are crewed by the drop cavalry squadrons. They are armed with either a lascannon or a multilaser, depending on operational requirements.
c o m m a n d e r
Name: Colonel Domitilla Agrippa. Age: 41. Gender: Male. Physical Description: Domitilla is a sturdy man with a dark and sparsely scarred complexion, adorned with salt-and-pepper cropped hair and faded brown eyes. His hairline is starting to recede, which he often conceals with a helmet or field cap. The entirety of his left arm and his left leg below the knee are placed with bionic alternatives. A lho-stick is often found hanging out of his mouth. Equipment: While the kit that Domitilla carries varies depending on the situation, he is seldom found without at least a laspistol at his hip and the common lho-stick assortment in his coat. In the field he wears the standard carapace and carries an accatarn IVe lasgun, although how much use it sees is debatable. Within his personal assortments away from the field, he is fond of his cogitator, which he uses to stay in touch with his family back home. Personality: Domitilla is a weary man with a quiet and perceptive demeanor in his day-to-day routine. It's not that his sparsity of voice should be mistaken for a lack of presence: some comical exaggerations detail how he could stare a hole through a sheet of metal if he thought the enemy could be hiding on the other side; it's much more saving his voice for when it is needed as an old injury makes his voice coarse and painful to use. He has a tick where he runs his knuckles over the tip of his nose when he's irritated and is distrustful of most authority figures, as is trademark of the "Bastard Seventh". Capabilities: On top of the standard skills of a veteran drop trooper, Domitilla has a mind capable of running at a million miles per hour, able to comfortably process several sources of stressful information and make something from it in a fraction of the time of his peers. Combined with his thorough understanding of unconventional warfare and his own regiment, he's capable of running an elusive, almost spectral force should he successfully get into the head of the enemy commander, which is definitely not unheard of. Failings: In addition to his mortal shortcomings, such as his bionic replacements and failing voice, he is a man of ill renown among his peers. He stood among the command staff responsible for the purges and the retreat at Arcen-III, and some would even suggest that the handover to command to him wasn't entirely over the table. Much more quietly, few may even question his own mental state - or rather, the purity of his mental state.
h i s t o r y
The Seventh Araheim Drop Troops Regiment was raised with the blessing of the planetary governor of the time in 433.M40, shortly after Krieg declared their independence. Retired officers from drop troop regiments both local and slightly more afar were commissioned to establish and executive the training regimen while veterans from other regiments were drafted to fill the command structure. It took approximately of 2 years and 1 month in local time to completely train and outfit the regiment to the high standard that drop troops are held to, where the regiment was then provided to the Imperial Guard as a part of Araheim's tithe to the Imperium.
The Seventh went on to find relative success in the efforts to come. Battles were far between in the relatively peaceful sect of Imperial space but were dense where they were found. Supporting local Adeptus Arbites elements with insurrections and raids came to become their bread and butter, where the regiments mobility and shock-and-awe capabilities made a reliable hammer to beat against the arbitrators' anvil. This grew to the point that local planetary governors and marshalls made a note of requesting any drop troop regiments if any were in the area on the off chance they were able to assist, to the chagrin of local PDF forces who typically lacked such elite forces.
The Seventh came to fame in mid-601.M40, where they were hastily recalled home by an Ordo Hereticus contingent, alongside the rest of their battle group. A prominent chaos cult swelled and boiled over into open rebellion which chained into several others on the planet joining on the spontaneity. Convenient timing played a part in the inflation of their image: while the PDF and arbitrators continued to struggle to contain violence in the streets of the hive world after months of fighting, a small armada ripped its way into atmosphere from the warp and loomed over the insurrectionists. The Seventh were naturally the first on the ground, reinforcing collapsing sectors and containing sects of the insurrection with risky orbital deep strikes. While the brunt of the work came later with the imperial reinforcements that landed with the beachheads, the Hereticus contingent made a show of the Seventh to humiliate the insurrectionists, being killed by their own people. This reputable image combined with high praise from the forces on the ground formed a proud reputation for the Seventh, as well as some degree of fear from their talent at arms with their fellow man. They grew in favor by the Ordo Hereticus which often had a line of work ready for them.
The Seventh's newfound reputation flickered and jumped through the centuries until very recently, at the Schism of Arcen-III in 996.M41. An Ordo Hereticus investigation at the request of the local Adeptus Arbite precinct forced a deep-rooted genestealer cult to show its hand a few months before the arrival of the hive fleet. The Seventh, which happened to be patrolling through the area, moved to assist with their battle group, expecting a short battle in their confidence before drawing a line in the sand to meet the hive fleet with; tragically, it was nothing but. What followed was a messy, complicated, and under-resourced operation where the Inquisition contingent, which had since been joined by the Ordo Xenos, used the Seventh to conduct raids and purges on several groups of "suspected cultists" - very few of which were.
After months of failing purges, the Seventh joined the battle against the hive fleet once it arrived, where they found the swarm had little in the way of supply lines and much to fill the gaps with. At the height of the battle, where regiments of guardsmen fought and died attempting to reclaim the planet, the commander of the Seventh ordered a general retreat and abandoned their positions behind the lines and reinforcing positions. Records detail the commander of the time citing that "the swarm will end the Imperium, but it will not end us, not after all we've given for this fucked planet." Naturally, the Officio Prefectus moved to execute the commanders and seize command, but Inquisitor Cole of the Ordo Hereticus forbade it; the Inquisition was nearly done signing the five rites of Exterminatus and an atmospheric incinerator torpedo had already been prepared. Not all of the imperial forces on the planet were able to evacuate, but allowing an elite regiment to begin evacuating a little earlier was a small cost for being able to put them into your back pocket. So the disgraced "Bastard Seventh" abandoned their fellow man to the swarm, where many of them remained after the planet was turned to glass. A small cost to deny such vast resource to the hive fleet, one that allowed the Imperium to even push them back, but a cost that left the Seventh now infamous.
Now, eager to move past their now polar repute, the "Lapdog Seventh" continues on in their reluctant and even unwilling service to the Imperium.
"Boss was real scared, he was. He said that other gangs were being whacked off every day by these army boys sent to fight some aliens that are coming. He said that these army boys'll come out of nowhere n' shoot at anything. He said the aliens were never coming, that it was just some big excuse to shoot up the undercity... We just found him dead in his room. He was so scared that he shot himself. The rest of us are getting off-world; aliens or not, this place is fucked, it is."
— A recording found on the corpse of an undercity gangster who attempted to breach the quarantine zone at the Schsim of Arcen-III.
c u l t u r e
Araheim is a dense, smog-covered hive world that acts as the de facto capital of its sector of the same name. The labyrinthine floors of industry and ports make the planet a popular spot for travelling traders and imperial retinues travelling through mid-Segmentum Pacificus and often tempt local off-worlders to immigrate for a "new life of opportunity", as hilarious as that might sound. This has created a hotpot of several ethnic groups and cultures, which is reflected in the rank-and-file of the Araheim Seventh.
Most of the regiment speaks low gothic, but other local languages from the sector and even high gothic can sometimes be found among the ranks. Individual interpretations of the imperial cult are varied and diverse, but there are certainly more loosely practicing soldiers than there is fanatics.
r e c r u i t m e n t
The Araheim Seventh is an all-volunteer unit with soldiers sourced from other Araheim tithe regiments as well as the Araheim Planetary Defense Force.
In order to qualify for drop force candidacy, a soldier must have completed their basic training as well as their initial employment training for their profession within the Imperial Guard or PDF. At this stage, any Araheim soldier can apply to undertake Drop Forces Candidate Selection, which is managed by Araheim Drop Forces Command and typically run either per locale at select venues or delegated to other formations for more far-flung regiments. Candidate selection involves physical evaluation, psychological evaluation, and soldiering skills evaluation across a three day exercise.
Those who pass candidate selection are invited to undertake drop forces initial employment training at Fort Arcen. The task-intensive course runs for 6 standard months and covers everything from non-linear gravity chute operations and void combat to unconventional warfare and operational spin control. The pass rate of the course is approximately 63.5 percent. Those who pass are entitled to wear the Araheim drop forces "wings", join the pool of candidates organised in order of course results for drop forces replenishment and are returned to their home units. When a drop regiment requests replenishment, the requested number is drawn from the pool of candidates from the top of the list down and are reassigned to the drop regiment in question. Occasionally, where replenishment requests are outstanding, successful candidates are sent directly to the regiment from Fort Arcen.
I'll also post up a WIP too then. A bit of a show that things are coming along if nothing else.
EDIT: Now completed.
Seventh Araheim Drop Troop Regiment "The Bastard Seventh"; "The Lapdog Seventh".
s p e c i a l i t y
Paratroopers: Generals and admirals are always eager to get a hold of a good drop regiment and with good reason: these all-volunteer elite and unconventional troops are few and far between, capable of fighting unpredictably and quickly with reduced supplies on short notice. Surprise attacks, raids on supply lines and vulnerable positions, ambushes, and guerrilla warfare, only barely covers off the tip of the iceberg of what a good drop regiment can do. Close Quarters Experts: The soldiers of the Araheim Seventh have a long history of fighting in close spaces, whether it's the dense streets of their hive world or the narrow corridors of a spaceship. Not only are they aware of this trend but they're proud of it, being certain to keep themselves up to scratch. This makes them a popular choice for navy captains as not only are they almost two thousand pairs of hands that are comfortable with void combat, they're also able to pass on a few tricks to the ratings. Kinslayers: The foe that the Araheim Seventh excel at destroying is, tragically, their fellow man. Many veterans of the regiment can recall uncompromising raids on renegades and traitors, something which is often admitted with some hesitation. Such is the cost of "peace" in the Imperium.
f l a w s
Indebted: If it weren't for the timely intervention of the Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor Cloe Aemilius some time ago, the regiment would have many different faces. But as is expected, the assistance of the Inquisition rarely comes without a cost and Cloe in particular is quite pressing when it comes to reminding the regimental headquarters element exactly how many of their lives are owed - or in practice, owned - to him. When Cloe or another from the Hereticus pulls the leash, the seventh can only bow their head and scamper along behind them, hence the nickname "the Lapdog Seventh"; and should they refuse, the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers "assisting the regiment with training standards" will surely finish the work the Officio Prefectus was forced to leave unfinished. Untrustworthy: Many have not forgotten the broad and uncompromising purges executed by the seventh on behalf of the inquisitorial contingent at the Schism of Arcen-III, killing fellow man and traitor alike in hope of uprooting the genestealer cult. Many also have not forgotten the general retreat order executed by the seventh while other regiments stood and fought to the death against the Tyranid swarm; not least of the Officio Prefectus, who had every intention of executing the regimental headquarters element and assuming command until an inquisitorial rosette stood in their way. Furthermore, it's the worst kept secret within the regiment that the men are scarcely afraid of looting the majority of enemy weapons should their own limited supplies - which, in fairness, they do well to conserve - run too thin. While many soldiers in the regiment pass off the "Bastard Seventh" nickname as a jab at their guerrilla tactics, there is much more to it than that. Organic: While few dare talk about Arcen-III, those who recall it know too well: that forsaken swarm will one day be the end of the Imperium. Some among those even believe that they will be the end of the regiment too, once karma catches up with them and they're sent to cut off swarming supply lines that don't exist. Even on top of the difficulty that a drop regiment faces fighting the swarm, the seventh struggles even further again, struck with fear and recollection.
h u m a n _ s o u l s
2219, including attachments.
"I remember it, clear as day: our position was collapsing, the heretics were overwhelming us. I was staring down the barrel of a stub gun. Then, as I made my last prayers to the emperor, it vanished - it vanished under a boot, because one of them landed on him. It was like the emperor heard me pray but ran out of angels, so he sent men brave enough to step up to the job instead."
— A retired Arbite Arbitrator on his deathbed, recollecting the Seventh landing at the Araheim Heresy.
c o m p o s i t i o n
Regimental Headquarters Colonel Domitilla Agrippa, Commanding Officer. Major Nerva Severinus, Executive Officer. Captain Tatiana Paula, Adjutant. Captain Liviana Florianus, Operations Officer. Captain Laurentinus Septima, Regimental Quartermaster. Sergeant Major Lucretius Paulina, Regimental Sergeant Major. Four Araheim Drop Grenadiers. Two Araheim Drop Grenadier Medics.
Regimental advisers Iulius Laurentinus, Astropath. One naval officer for liaison with the navy and her aircraft assets, at the discretion of the local naval authority.
Inquisitorial attachment One squad of Inquisitorial Stormtroopers (10), commanded by Sergeant Iunia Valerius.
Officio Prefectus attachment 8 commissars and 2 junior commissars.
Adeptus Mechanicus attachment 5 enginseers.
Per Battalion Headquarters One Battalion Commander. One Battalion Executive Officer. One Operations Officer. One Regimental Quartermaster. One Regimental Sergeant Major. Four Araheim Drop Grenadiers. Two Araheim Drop Grenadier Medics.
Drop Infantry Companies Nine drop infantry companies, designed Alpha through India, accounting for 1632 of the regiments total number. There are three companies assigned sequentially to each battalion, designed 71st Araheim Drop Forces Battalion through 73rd. Each company contains: - A company command element, including a company commander (captain) and company sergeant major (gunnery sergeant). - Four platoons of drop infantry, counting at 32 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element of a platoon commander (lieutenant), platoon sergeant (staff sergeant), and 30 drop infantry. The soldiers within this are organised into three squads of ten, which include a squad commander (sergeant) and squad second-in-commander (corporal). Without operational requirements outstanding, two soldiers per squad will carry special weapons. - One platoon of heavy weapons teams, counting at 10 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element and 8 crewmen. These platoons normally operate two heavy bolters, one missile launcher, and one mortar.
Drop Grenadier Companies Three Drop Grenadier Companies, designed Alpha through Charlie, accounting for 486 of the regiments total number. There is one company assigned sequentially to each battalion. Each company includes: - A company command element, including a company commander and company sergeant major. - Four platoons of drop grenadiers, counting at 32 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element of a platoon commander, platoon sergeant, and 30 drop infantry. The soldiers within this are organised into three squads of ten, which include a squad commander and squad second-in-commander. Without operational requirements outstanding, two soldiers per squad will carry special weapons. - One platoon of heavy weapons teams, counting at 10 per platoon. This includes the platoon command element and 8 crewmen. These platoons normally operate two heavy bolters, one missile launcher, and one mortar.
Drop Light Armour Squadron Three Drop Light Armour Squadrons, designed Alpha through Charlie, accounting for 12 of the regiments total number. There is one squadron assigned sequentially to each battalion. Each crewman in the squadron crews a drop sentinel. Each squadron includes: - A squadron command element, including a squadron commander and a squadron sergeant major. - Three light armour platoons, counting at 4 per platoon. This includes a platoon commander, platoon sergeant, and 2 crewmen. One of these platoons is commanded by the squadron command element.
Drop Cavalry Squadron Three Drop Cavalry Squadrons, designed Alpha through Charlie, accounting for 24 of the regiments total number. There is one squadron assigned sequentially to each battalion. The crewmen are organised in pairs, each pair crewing a Tauros or Tauros Venator. Each squadron includes: - A squadron command element, including a squadron commander and a squadron sergeant major. - Two cavalry platoons of Tauros light vehicles, counting at 8 per platoon. This includes a platoon commander, platoon sergeant, and 6 crewmen. The two commanders crew different vehicles and one of these platoons is commanded by the squadron command element. - One cavalry platoon of Tauros Venators, set up identically to the above.
a r m o u r y
PT-38 jump suit: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in administratum grey. Webbing and pouches, Elysian 68 pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in black. Combat boots, Ieva pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in black. Jump gloves, Ieva pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in black. Synth-plast flak armour: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This includes the cuirass, spaulders, elbow pads, and knee pads. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Regimental insignia is displayed on the chest, campaign insignia is displayed on the left knee, and company designation is displayed on the right spaulder. Rank indicators for non-commissioned officers and commissioned officers are also painted onto the back of the helmet. Veterans of 8 or more drops display a red stripe on their left spaulder. Carapace armour: 632, at 3.5 men per unit. This includes the mentioned above plus complete arm and leg harness. This item is issued to grenadiers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Type 5 pressure helmet: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Atmospheric-rated respirator mask: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Gravity chute: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. It is issued in thunderhawk blue. Lasgun, Accatran pattern mark IV: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to drop infantry. It is issued in the stock runefang steel. Lasgun, Accatran pattern mark IVe: 375, at 5.9 men per unit. This item is the standard issue special weapon. It is issued in the stock runefang steel. Laspistol, Accatran pattern mark II: 760, at 2.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to sergeants and above, as well as special weapons operators and vehicle crew. Meltagun, Accatran pattern: 300, at 7.4 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Flamer, Accatran pattern mark Ic: 300, at 7.4 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Shotgun, Accatran pattern model 34: 300, at 7.4 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Grenade launcher, Voss pattern: 300, at 7.4 men per unit. This item is may be issued to a special weapons operator with operational requirements outstanding. Missle launcher, Accatran pattern: 30, at 73.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to heavy weapons platoons in the place of a lascannon, as to allow it to be air mobile. Hellgun, Ieva pattern: 631, at 3.5 men per unit. This item is standard issue to grenadiers. Hellpistol, Ieva pattern: 99, at 22.4 men per unit. This item is standard issue to grenadier sergeants and above. Heavy bolter, Accatran pattern: 60, at 36.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to heavy weapons platoons. Mortar, Ieva pattern: 30, at 73.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to heavy weapons platoons in the place of a lascannon, as to allow it to be air mobile. Long-las, Ieva pattern: 170, at 13 men per unit. This item may be issued to a special weapons operator or to a grenadier with operational requirements outstanding. Lasgun power pack: 14423, at 6.5 units per man. Five of these are issued to every man with a laser weapon. Hellgun power backpack: 631, at 3.5 units per man. One of these is issued to every man with a hellgun weapon. Missile, shoulder operated: 390, at 5.6 men per unit. Ten of these are issued to each heavy weapons platoon. Promethium canister: 2993, at 1.3 units per man. Five of these are issued to each man with a flamer and three to each man with a chainsword. Ten are issued to each Tauros vehicle armed with a heavy flamer. Meltagun canisters: 2184, at 1.01 men per unit. Five of these are issued to each man with a meltagun. Drop sentinels armed with meltaguns carry ten. Laser packs: 192, at 11.5 men per unit. Ten of these are carried by Tauros Venators. Shotgun ammunition, shell: 14976, at 6.7 units per man. Forty of these are issued to each man with a shotgun. Shotgun ammunition, slug: 5990, at 2.7 units per man. Sixteen of these are issued to each man with a shotgun. Shotgun ammunition, stun: 1500, at 1.5 men per unit. These may be issued to men with shotguns with operational requirements outstanding. .75 caliber bolt magazines: 338, at 6.6 men per unit. While bolt pistols are not issued by the regiment, some attaches and officers within acquire one through their own means. Their ammunition is supplied by the regiment. .998 caliber bolt boxes: 483, at 4.6 men per unit. Ten of these are issued to each heavy weapons platoon. Six are issued to each drop sentinel armed with a heavy bolter. Mortar shells: 780, at 2.8 men per unit. Fifty of these are issued to each heavy weapons platoon. Fragmentation grenades, handheld: 5769, at 2.6 units per man. Two of these are standard issue to all drop troopers. Fragmentation grenades, ballistic: 2750, at 1.2 men per unit. Eighteen are issued to special weapon operators with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Twenty-four are issued to venator crews with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Krak grenades, handheld: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. One of these is standard issue to all drop troopers. Krak grenades, ballistic: 4000, at 1.8 men per unit. Six of these are standard issue to special weapon operators with the Accatran pattern mark IVe lasgun. Six are issued to special weapon operators with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Twenty-four are issued to venator crews with a Voss pattern grenade launcher. Melta bombs: 748, at 2.9 men per unit. Two of these may be issued to special weapon operators or grenadiers in place of the standard grenade issue with operational requirements outstanding. Snare mines: 748, at 2.9 men per unit. Two of these may be issued to special weapon operators or grenadiers in place of the standard grenade issue with operational requirements outstanding. Demolition charges: 748, at 2.9 men per unit. Two of these may be issued to special weapon operators or grenadiers in place of the standard grenade issue with operational requirements outstanding. Combat knife, Ieva pattern: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. Chainsword, Ieva pattern: 425, at 5.2 men per unit. This item is standard issue to sergeants and above. Vox-caster: 83, at 26.7 men per unit. This item is issued to command elements from platoon level to regimental level. Camouflage cloaks: 170, at 13 men per unit. This item may be issued in tandem with the long-las. 9-70 entrenching tool: 2885, at 1.3 units per man. This item is standard issue to all drop troopers. Long range ground scanner: 425, at 5.2 men per unit. This item is standard issue to sergeants and above. Lascutter: 374, at 5.9 men per unit. This item is standard issue to special weapon operators. Drop sentinels: 54, at 41 men per unit. These vehicles are crewed by the drop light armor squadrons. They are armed with either heavy bolters or melta guns, depending on operational requirements. Tauros light vehicles: 36, at 61.6 men per unit. These vehicles are crewed by the drop cavalry squadrons. They are armed with either a heavy flamer or a grenade launcher, depending on operational requirements. Tauros venators: 18, 123.3 men per unit. These vehicles are crewed by the drop cavalry squadrons. They are armed with either a lascannon or a multilaser, depending on operational requirements.
c o m m a n d e r
Name: Colonel Domitilla Agrippa. Age: 41. Gender: Male. Physical Description: Domitilla is a sturdy man with a dark and sparsely scarred complexion, adorned with salt-and-pepper cropped hair and faded brown eyes. His hairline is starting to recede, which he often conceals with a helmet or field cap. The entirety of his left arm and his left leg below the knee are placed with bionic alternatives. A lho-stick is often found hanging out of his mouth. Equipment: While the kit that Domitilla carries varies depending on the situation, he is seldom found without his hellpistol at his hip and the standard lho-stick assortment in his coat. In the field he wears the standard flak armor and carapace and carries a power sword, although how much use they see is debatable. Within his personal assortments away from the field, he is fond of his cogitator, which he uses to stay in touch with his family back home. Personality: Domitilla is a weary man with a quiet and perceptive demeanor in his day-to-day routine. It's not that his sparsity of voice should be mistaken for a lack of presence: some comical exaggerations detail how he could stare a hole through a sheet of metal if he thought the enemy could be hiding on the other side; it's much more saving his voice for when it is needed as an old injury makes his voice coarse and painful to use. He has a tick where he runs his knuckles over the tip of his nose when he's irritated and is distrustful of most authority figures, as is trademark of the "Bastard Seventh". Capabilities: On top of the standard skills of a veteran drop trooper, Domitilla has a mind capable of running at a million miles per hour, able to comfortably process several sources of stressful information and make something from it in a fraction of the time of his peers. Combined with his thorough understanding of unconventional warfare and his own regiment, he's capable of running an elusive, almost spectral force should he successfully get into the head of the enemy commander, which is definitely not unheard of. Failings: In addition to his mortal shortcomings, such as his bionic replacements and failing voice, he is a man of ill renown among his peers. He stood among the command staff responsible for the purges and the retreat at Arcen-III, and some would even suggest that the handover to command to him wasn't entirely over the table. Much more quietly, few may even question his own mental state - or rather, the purity of his mental state.
h i s t o r y
The Seventh Araheim Drop Troops Regiment was raised with the blessing of the planetary governor of the time in 433.M40, shortly after Krieg declared their independence. Retired officers from drop troop regiments both local and slightly more afar were commissioned to establish and executive the training regimen while veterans from other regiments were drafted to fill the command structure. It took approximately of 2 years and 1 month in local time to completely train and outfit the regiment to the high standard that drop troops are held to, where the regiment was then provided to the Imperial Guard as a part of Araheim's tithe to the Imperium.
The Seventh went on to find relative success in the efforts to come. Battles were far between in the relatively peaceful sect of Imperial space but were dense where they were found. Supporting local Adeptus Arbites elements with insurrections and raids came to become their bread and butter, where the regiments mobility and shock-and-awe capabilities made a reliable hammer to beat against the arbitrators' anvil. This grew to the point that local planetary governors and marshalls made a note of requesting any drop troop regiments if any were in the area on the off chance they were able to assist, to the chagrin of local PDF forces who typically lacked such elite forces.
The Seventh came to fame in mid-601.M40, where they were hastily recalled home by an Ordo Hereticus contingent, alongside the rest of their battle group. A prominent chaos cult swelled and boiled over into open rebellion which chained into several others on the planet joining on the spontaneity. Convenient timing played a part in the inflation of their image: while the PDF and arbitrators continued to struggle to contain violence in the streets of the hive world after months of fighting, a small armada ripped its way into atmosphere from the warp and loomed over the insurrectionists. The Seventh were naturally the first on the ground, reinforcing collapsing sectors and containing sects of the insurrection with risky orbital deep strikes. While the brunt of the work came later with the imperial reinforcements that landed with the beachheads, the Hereticus contingent made a show of the Seventh to humiliate the insurrectionists, being killed by their own people. This reputable image combined with high praise from the forces on the ground formed a proud reputation for the Seventh, as well as some degree of fear from their talent at arms with their fellow man. They grew in favor by the Ordo Hereticus which often had a line of work ready for them.
The Seventh's newfound reputation flickered and jumped through the centuries until very recently, at the Schism of Arcen-III in 996.M41. An Ordo Hereticus investigation at the request of the local Adeptus Arbite precinct forced a deep-rooted genestealer cult to show its hand a few months before the arrival of the hive fleet. The Seventh, which happened to be patrolling through the area, moved to assist with their battle group, expecting a short battle in their confidence before drawing a line in the sand to meet the hive fleet with; tragically, it was nothing but. What followed was a messy, complicated, and under-resourced operation where the Inquisition contingent, which had since been joined by the Ordo Xenos, used the Seventh to conduct raids and purges on several groups of "suspected cultists" - very few of which were.
After months of failing purges, the Seventh joined the battle against the hive fleet once it arrived, where they found the swarm had little in the way of supply lines and much to fill the gaps with. At the height of the battle, where regiments of guardsmen fought and died attempting to reclaim the planet, the commander of the Seventh ordered a general retreat and abandoned their positions behind the lines and reinforcing positions. Records detail the commander of the time citing that "the swarm will end the Imperium, but it will not end us, not after all we've given for this fucked planet." Naturally, the Officio Prefectus moved to execute the commanders and seize command, but Inquisitor Cole of the Ordo Hereticus forbade it; the Inquisition was nearly done signing the five rites of Exterminatus and an atmospheric incinerator torpedo had already been prepared. Not all of the imperial forces on the planet were able to evacuate, but allowing an elite regiment to begin evacuating a little earlier was a small cost for being able to put them into your back pocket. So the disgraced "Bastard Seventh" abandoned their fellow man to the swarm, where many of them remained after the planet was turned to glass. A small cost to deny such vast resource to the hive fleet, one that allowed the Imperium to even push them back, but a cost that left the Seventh now infamous.
Now, eager to move past their now polar repute, the "Lapdog Seventh" continues on in their reluctant and even unwilling service to the Imperium.
"Boss was real scared, he was. He said that other gangs were being whacked off every day by these army boys sent to fight some aliens that are coming. He said that these army boys'll come out of nowhere n' shoot at anything. He said the aliens were never coming, that it was just some big excuse to shoot up the undercity... We just found him dead in his room. He was so scared that he shot himself. The rest of us are getting off-world; aliens or not, this place is fucked, it is."
— A recording found on the corpse of an undercity gangster who attempted to breach the quarantine zone at the Schsim of Arcen-III.
c u l t u r e
Araheim is a dense, smog-covered hive world that acts as the de facto capital of its sector of the same name. The labyrinthine floors of industry and ports make the planet a popular spot for travelling traders and imperial retinues travelling through mid-Segmentum Pacificus and often tempt local off-worlders to immigrate for a "new life of opportunity", as hilarious as that might sound. This has created a hotpot of several ethnic groups and cultures, which is reflected in the rank-and-file of the Araheim Seventh.
Most of the regiment speaks low gothic, but other local languages from the sector and even high gothic can sometimes be found among the ranks. Individual interpretations of the imperial cult are varied and diverse, but there are certainly more loosely practicing soldiers than there is fanatics.
r e c r u i t m e n t
The Araheim Seventh is an all-volunteer unit with soldiers sourced from other Araheim tithe regiments as well as the Araheim Planetary Defense Force.
In order to qualify for drop force candidacy, a soldier must have completed their basic training as well as their initial employment training for their profession within the Imperial Guard or PDF. At this stage, any Araheim soldier can apply to undertake Drop Forces Candidate Selection, which is managed by Araheim Drop Forces Command and typically run either per locale at select venues or delegated to other formations for more far-flung regiments. Candidate selection involves physical evaluation, psychological evaluation, and soldiering skills evaluation across a three day exercise.
Those who pass candidate selection are invited to undertake drop forces initial employment training at Fort Arcen. The task-intensive course runs for 6 standard months and covers everything from non-linear gravity chute operations and void combat to unconventional warfare and operational spin control. The pass rate of the course is approximately 63.5 percent. Those who pass are entitled to wear the Araheim drop forces "wings", join the pool of candidates organised in order of course results for drop forces replenishment and are returned to their home units. When a drop regiment requests replenishment, the requested number is drawn from the pool of candidates from the top of the list down and are reassigned to the drop regiment in question. Occasionally, where replenishment requests are outstanding, successful candidates are sent directly to the regiment from Fort Arcen.
Interested! I'm kicking around a couple of ideas, which I've got down to either an armored regiment or a drop troop regiment. I'll probably bother you in Discord about it as well as "party" composition and that.
Blue lines of text streamed through the pilot's helmet, but his eyes only darted between a select several sentences and phrases. He had ran through the routine more times than he cared to recall, so much that it become more habit than practice. Moving his glances in the practiced order, he found the same word four times: online; online; online; online. As he reached his two hands out, flexing his fingers around the controls on either side and pressing his feet to the pedals beneath him, his eyes fell on the final confirmation: standing by.
The green behemoth lurched forward as it's bracing lifting from it's sides and shoulders. Even compared to the other giant machinations in the hangar, the Aegis stood taller again, going as far as to test the height of the hangar's roof at it's lowest points. As the machine went, the Aegis exchanged glances with a familiar Gladiator on their way to the launch rail. That was all the two needed: between themselves, Atalyah and Brit confirmed the old routine with one another once again.
> Launch: OK!
. . .
No matter how many times Atalyah flew these patrol missions, he always felt uneasy. For years, contact with Coalition pilots rarely meant anything beyond outright hostilities, so seeing those familiar models across the way every other day felt something like sitting up to between your mouth and your nose in water: the feeling you're in danger, the need to swim, yet needing to stay and breathe through your nose instead. He shook his head at the thought - that was far too complicated a comparison.
Yet, on this run, the discomfort seemed all too justified: across the way sat an all-to-familiar red Fafnir, complete with helm and cape. For longer than he realized, Atalyah stared from within his cockpit. While underestimating even a rookie MAS pilot would at least lead to being shot from a blindside, it was hard to pay attention to them when the Bloody Valkyrie was standing besides them.
"Don't doubt it, Brit." Atalyah chimed in on the private communications, following up behind Ingram. He didn't add more than that: he was sure the others would understand. He glanced over to the Shrike for a moment, contemplating elaborating for the newest addition to the squadron, before ultimately dismissing it as he looked back. Surely an eager pilot would have read about any double-ace, he quietly concluded.
In his seat, Ingram slowly began to become more comfortable. With all the chatter going on, it seemed like it was just going to be another day in-
Everything exploded at once. While a great orange ball burst out of the Perseus, quickly sucked up and dissipated by the inhospitable terrain that is space, several notifications ambushed the view of the middle-aged pilot. > WARNING: Severe damage to neutral unit PERSEUS. SOURCE: Internal; unknown. > WARNING: Power spikes detected from NEUTRAL MAS at RELATIVE: (-27, -114, 214); (104, 387, -226);... But above all, one stuck out in particular - one that he didn't quickly dismiss with a blink and swipe of his eyes, one that his glance lingered on for a fraction of a second longer than the rest: > WARNING: Coalition weapon signatures detected at RELATIVE:...
Atalyah didn't stop to think - or rather, certainly not conscious thinking. A rush of adrenaline jump-started his instinctual response, trained and tuned throughout more sorties than he cared to recall: he grasped tightly at his controls, bringing his machine back and aside in preparation to take a position towards the front of the formation. "Enemy weapons systems coming online, prepare for an assault!" he called over the squadron communications. It wasn't his job to command the battle - that was left to Ingram; yet, command and control were two separate and demanding tasks, and Atalyah had no intention to let the 12th become disorientated so early - especially while an enemy double-ace sat across the field. Atalyah continued to speak as he lifted a hand, pressing at a few switches to bring his weapons systems to life - ironically, entirely oblivious to what was going on in the bridge: "Hold your ground and don't fire first! Rookie, get on the far side of the formation from the red one and remember what I said! Irish - if Valkyrie comes at us, I'm going to need you with me holding him back!"
As the Aegis moved into position towards the front of the formation, it's two shields came firmly to it's front, stood firmly in front of the rest of the chassis. Taking it's AC-2 autocannon from it's back, the machine snapped the forward grip to be angled towards the left, allowing it to more easily poke it around the right hand shield. Within the cockpit, as whirring and slamming engulfed the focused Atalyah as the missiles were loaded into their pods, the two shields seemed to almost vanish from his view: cameras from the other side streaming footage to him, allowing him to watch the Coalition MAS move into their own formation.
Taking a deep breath in, Atalyah looked over the enemy machines - namely, the Red Valkyrie, keeping a fix on where it was heading. The hairs on the back of his neck stood in anticipation, adrenaline suppressing the shock of exactly what had happened - only so he could deal with it all at once later. With his map in the corner of his eye, he watched the positions of the rest of the squadron as he waited: waited for Ingram's voice, waiting for a direction to take the team in.
Atalyah's attention returned to the enemy double-ace. No matter how he spun it to himself, even with all his years and kills beneath his belt, the idea of confronting the Valkyrie made his stomach churn. Tigres is much faster than he is, and he's acting purely reactively at this stage. Even with Irish helping him, holding him off is a tall order. Hopefully it won't come to blows, but he said the same thing about the peace talks going well in the first place.
Atalyah pressed out a breath as he pushed the thoughts from his mind. If Tigres came, he would deal with it then - and he had a few tricks of his own up his sleeve.
Chloe listened to the impromptu briefing intently, trying not to fidget under the feeling of eleven eyes sizing her up. She clenched her jaw slightly at her commander's comment about surviving the war intact, making an effort not to betray any emotion even as Delaney laughed his head off to her right. She remembered him from the Academy, not too long ago; buerocratic circumstances had resulted in his shipping out slightly before her, and no doubt he was relishing the opportunity to laugh at the expense of Miss Perfect. Then the klaxon sounded, and she barely had time to salute her officer again before she was instructed to rush off to her MAS.
Throughout the exchange, Atalyah remained mostly silent, bar the odd grumble or 'hmph' as he listened. For whatever reason there may be, he was the odd one as the revelation washed over the rest of the squadron: while the others blinked and whispered between themselves, putting 2 and 2 together with the squadron commander and the spook, Atalyah kept swiping at his datapad. His thought process was never terribly transparent - it couldn't possibly be the real Atalyah if it was.
Yet soon enough, Atalyah's lazy swiping and distant observations were interrupted by the wailing siren. He knew the sound all too well: before he realized it himself, he was pressing in on the side of his datapad and pressing it back into it's thigh pocket. As he scooped up his helmet, he looked over towards Ingram after hearing his name. The direction was simple enough: get the rookie to the Shrike - yet, Atalyah initially blinked at the direction, a little curious. "The Shrike?" Atalyah asked, shooting a side-eye towards the would-be honor student. Admittedly, he hadn't been paying that much attention when she arrived, so his head turned to face her for a moment as he continued: "Christ, you're confident in the rookie, boss." Despite his questioning, he gave Ingram a light slap on the back as he passed him, silently communicating that he was all over it.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to live up to that confidence," Chloe said as she followed the veteran with quick, halting steps. "I've put up some good numbers in simulators with the Shrike... I did better with the Gladiator, but I guess that's the way these things go." She swallowed sharply to cut off her own babbling. This wasn't even a combat situation, unless things went horribly wrong - acting like some nervous rookie here was beyond ridiculous.
She took a deep breath as the war machine came into view. The Shrike was a nimble machine, as complicated anything ever made to fly. If she wanted a chance to prove herself, the red and white suit that towered above her was the chance. She noted wryly that there were a few scratches and dents in the paint that had yet to be buffed out - old machine, new pilot, she thought wryly.
"What do you fly?" she asked Atalyah, following behind him like a baby duck. "Something heavy, I'm guessing?"
As Atalyah listened, walking alongside her on the way to the Shrike, his expression remained flat and unbetraying; yet, despite this, it left little room for doubt that he was judging her. Whatever the outcome was, it couldn't have been too harsh, because he answered in kind: "What gave it away? Is it because I'm old and fat?" he'd let out a brief, quiet chuckle as he motioned Chloe towards the boarding staircase, pushed into position by an engineer only moments ago. "I drive the big one over there." he'd answer properly as he glanced to the side, pointing to easily the largest machine in the hanger: a towering machination of largely green, with one of it's two extra limbs twitching at the behest of an engineer standing on the catwalk above it.
As he looked back, he moved to trail behind Chloe, to make a file with the steep stairs-on-wheels on the other side of her. "Any questions before you board? Any doubts at all? This should be a good practice flight for getting started with the squadron, we can run through it all properly and get you introduced to the boys once we're back."
"Just a hunch," Chloe murmured. "The old and fat part had nothing to do with it." She stepped up the boarding staircase gingerly, gripping the railing until her knuckles were white beneath the gloves. "Nah, I'm... I'm good. Sure I've got nothing to worry about with you in that four-armed thing there." She cracked a smile, internally frustrated that she couldn't recognize the model of the veteran's MAS. She'd have to review the dossiers again.
The klaxon sounded again, and Chloe rolled a crack out of her neck. "So, what's my callsign? Red?"
"Noob," Atalyah responded frankly, without missing a beat: "your callsign is noob. That is, until you manage to earn one for yourself." He followed behind her up the staircase, leaving her a bit of room as she progressed. As much as he hated to admit it, he was curious: how would a student-of-merit do in their first flight? He'd never seen an academy graduate quite of that caliber before.
Regardless, keeping his thoughts to himself like always, Atalyah continued: "As you already know, it's going to be a dry one. Just stay in formatioon and try to get a feel for how the different pilots operate; although, I'm sure you heard it all in the academy before." He'd pause for a moment, glancing towards Ingram, before looking back to add: "...and if anything goes wrong - which it won't now, but just for future - and you panic, just get behind me, yeah? I'll worry about whatever while you get your bearings back."
He would remain behind her, half-lifting a hand in preperation to check the cockpit seal once she was inside.
"... Yeah, guess I could have seen that coming." Chloe stepped into the cockpit. "Alright, fly behind four arms, got it." She flashed the veteran a smile as the cockpit sealed in front of her - he may not be speaking much, but she could tell this one was someone worth learning from. Whatever he knew, she'd have to know, too.
The cockpit of the MAS sealed with a hiss, and information panels flickered to life in front of her. "Ensign O'Connor is in gear," she spoke into the comms channel, flicking quickly through the diagnostics of her machine.
Returning the guesture, Atalyah returned the smile - an almost faint, jaded thing, one that seemed more tired than anything. It faded as soon as it arrived, his attention taken by other things: as the cockpit door pressed shut, Atalyah pressed his two gloved hands along the length of the seal on either side, listening for rushes of air and watching for any subtle movements. While it was rare, it has happened before: depressurization from an equipment failure, the poor pilot being sucked through a slot too thin for a coin with what's left being shot out into space. He had seen it himself, all that time ago.
Yet, everything seemed to be in order. Lifting a hand, Atalyah flashed the pilot he couldn't see a thumbs-up as he started to tuirn. Before long, he'd no doubt dip out of sight of the latest addition to the motley crew, the ladder being wheeled away shortly after. As he crossed the hall, he flipped his helmet about in his hands before lifting it above his hand, where he could bring it down over his graying hair and press the seal into place.
Thankfully, as Atalyah approached his own machine, the engineer was walking away on the catwalk overhead. The two exchanged a glance and a sequence of thumbs-ups, communicating that everyting was in order. Climbing up his own boarding staircase, Atalyah hefted himself into his own cockpit: much bulkier than the one he just checked, yet much more welcoming for him. Everything was where it should be, where it has been for years: from the obvious switches to the subtle touches, it all sat where it felt right for him.
As the cockpit door closed over him to embrace him yet again, Atalyah spoke, his helmet transmissing his aging voice over the squadron frequency: "Boss, this is Nix - loud and clear. All irish over here. Over." he answered, lifting a hand to swat at a few switches as he did. As he spoke, he looked over towards the Shrike he just came from. From the safety of his cockpit, he allowed himself a quiet moment of thought as he watched Chloe run through her checks: why would a young mind like that, with the smarts to graduate from the academy as the student of merit, try to join the military? It made him feel a pang of guilt - almost irrationaly, as he very well knew.
As he returned his attention purely to his pre-flight procedures, Atalyah enjoyed the thought of the war ending sometime in the next few months. He'd seen alot of bright minds like Chloe's come to posting and be shot down shortly after; at least he wouldn't have to see it again.
Only a cruel, metaphysical god would punish these men and women with such a fate, surely.
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