Master At Arms Ludicus Marleno's page

Ludicus had withdrawn to his quarters to contemplate his next step.
To keep himself occupied, he had dismantled his Commissariat weapons and were performing a meticulous maintenance rite.
He had always found that his thoughts were more ordered when his hands were occupied.

right now, orders were beginning to be handed out to individual squads, and no doubt junior officers and veteran NCOs were in the process of giving speeches to boost moral.
It might be a good idea to go out there and be seen.

Standing up, Ludicus slowly checked himself in the mirror.
He wasn't a vain man, but taking care of his appearance was important for a Commissar.
No fool, Ludicus was well aware he had made Commissar in part due to his classic good looks.
He had the appearance of an Imperial hero, and normally, hi red uniform made him stand out, even amongst his peers.

Chuckling softly, he was reminded of the question one ignorant trooper had asked when he just happened to pass by.
"Do the mekboys have their own Commissars too?"
it was a...forgivable question, after all, his red uniform meshed well with the robes of the Adeptis Mechanicus and the Skitari present.

Eventually, having shaved, strapped on his "badges of office", Ludicus ventured forth, making sure to be seen, stopping on occasion to give advice, cheer up a trooper, and generally just bolstering morale.

Cunning 45 +Commander 10 Ranks, Loyalty 3: 1d100 ⇒ 45

But, a Commissar, even one who tries to lead by example and by charisma, sometimes have to remind others that while one hand might be open and ready to help you stand, the other was a fist, ready to strike you down if you truly deserved it.

As such, he made sure to come down, hard, on anyone slacking off before such a big push, especially a group of solders that had found themselves a stash of illicit drugs.

Brutality 45 Enforcer 6 Terrify 3: 1d100 ⇒ 29

"Hmm, we can draw some conclusions based on how much of that request is granted.
The more of it that is, the more the Magi in charge believe that this mission is likely to succeed, and that it is vital.
If they are reluctant, and it is not based on a lack of resources..."

"I believe there was a report of one of our squads managing to delay a smaller class Titan by using strategic explosives to weaken the fundaments and causing it to crash through the floor.
I suspect our foes would have prepared to use such tactics as well.
Walking into a trap willingly can be a viable strategy, but not in this case I suspect."

Ludicus frowns for a moment, thinking about what Virgil said.
Then he raises a hand and speaks, doing his best to not sound accusatory in any way.
"How recent is this information? This mining town has been a central element of the line for quite some time.
Artillery, tanks, trenches...
There should be a considerable amount of damage done to that area, meaning that any reports we have would be less than reliable"

Ludicus slowly strokes his chin, noting with some concern the feel of a hint of stubble against his fingertips.
Water rations have been cut back somewhat, but I cannot allow myself to set a poor example.
I may have to go thirsty tomorrow...

"Mechanised forces..."

"Naturally, while the enemy is heretical, delusional and at times ephemeral, we cannot base our tactics on them being stupid.
A place like that is going to be absolutely well guarded.
We would need to distract the enemy, draw them away.

Naturally, if we are too obvious, such a tactic would become obvious to the enemy."

"It goes without saying that such a thing cannot be allowed to continue.
Not only would annihilating such a thing be a victory for us, it would most likely disrupt the enemy's plans, as well as inflict a possibly devastating blow to their morale."

"At this point, it sounds like we would have a chance to strike one or more telling blows against our ancient foe, and potentially break a deadlock on this planet that has existed for a very long time indeed."

"However, this does make the idea of using military authority to recruit a number of the local abhumans to help us strike at these points all the more vital."

"Furthermore, as a moral officer, I can categorically state that our troopers are ill suited to this kind of environment, and a prolonged stay here will cause more and more serious infractions to occur.
I am talking about the sort of infractions that may cause loss of personell, possibly doubly so as both victim and perpetrator will end up dead."

With deliberate slowness, Ludicus draws his boltgun and drops it loudly on top of the table.
"Kindly keep this on a civil level gentlemen. This is a discussion of what is to be done, it is not a shouting match in a low hive public house."

Ludicus leans forward, his black eyes unblinking as he looks from the Deacon to the Enginseer.
"Should you feel you have just been scolded like pre school juvies, kindly remember that the best way to avoid such is to not ACT like such."

"I was in the field before we made contact with the local Admechs. We encountered a daemon, setting up an altar that was at least partially made out of skulls.
It was a large creature, horned, red and wielding a sword of some sort."

Ludicus is next to speak, his calm and well modulated tones designed to grab peoples attention and then keep it.
"I have been studying the after reports of our latest missions, and as many after reports of previous missions that has been undertaken before our arrival.
One reason our mission went so well seems to be the aid our squads received from the local Ratling population.
These Abhumans have been living in the battlefield for generations, and know the area better than anyone.
And yet it seems that anytime a group of them are discovered, they are immediately processed and returned to the workforce rather than utilised in a way to help win the war, as scouts for example.
On paper, it may seem logical to stabilise production, but won't help the overall goal of winning the war necessarily.
I do believe that if make contact and recruit a force of them, we might be able to use them to make a number of surgical strikes at vital positions from unexpected angles, and destabilise the enemy significantly.
It may be somewhat...unorthodox, but a war that has staled as long as this one, requires so called "out of the box" thinking."

The cast is gathering, now we merely await the director for this little pict drama.
I wonder what role I shall play today?

There is such a thing as being overly familiar or undiplomatic...
However, certain...eccentricities are often allowable in the upper strata of the regiments.
I believe I shall however, tactfully, avoid mentioning anything in my official report to the Commissariat.

As befitting a member of the Commissariat, Ludicus had been present even before the appointed hour, and was sitting at the table, hands clasped together, his chin resting on top of them.
Situated before him was a steaming cup of recaf and a half eaten grox bun.
Luckily, the regimental stores were still full enough that they did not need to make do with the typical reconstituted paste that passed for "nourishment" to the Adeptus Mechanicus.

The table of to the side of the room held a large selection of such treats, since a meeting of this nature could be quite pressing on the constitution.
Besides, it was always better to eat while they were warm and fresh.

In typical Commissar fashion, Ludicus unblinking, completely black artificial eyes were observing the door to the room, waiting to see who would be the first to join him.

Ludicus is going through the after action reports of the various missions the regiment had taken care of.
Normally, that wasn't part of what he did, usually he was relegated to the punishment details, since that was the typical Commissar fare.

However, these were not normal circumstances, and you had to make do with what you were offered.
He came across several names that he recognised as he thumbed through the reports.
It seemed neither flame trooper Ulric, nor Sergeant Henner had survived, though by all accounts, Ulric had acquitted himself well until his weapon had misfired, and Henner had died in what could be called an Heroic fashion.

Trooper Cecil had survived, and Corporal Simmins had not only survived but earned another promotion.
A fairly quick rise indeed, but not an unexpected one.
The regiment was quite fresh, and a lot of non coms and junior officers had died due to inexperience, mistakes and sheer bad luck.

And of course, those holes needed to be filled.
By all accounts, there were quite a need for Corporals, a few Sergeants and by all accounts, one or two cadets and/or Lieutenants.

Ludicuse's hands twitched, and he felt a strong urge to reach for a Lho stick, but as always, he refrained from giving in to temptation.
When you give up a vice, you really need to give it up for good, not just for when it is not convenient.
As such, the packet remained on the side of the desk, unopened and untouched, a constant temptation, but one that was once again successfully resisted.

I wonder if this is enough? These successes may make a dent in the heretics forces and plans.
Or perhaps they will have no greater purpose in the long run. Only the emperor can know for sure.

Sighing, Ludicus reached for his cap and carefully placed it on his head.
He needed a break, and a short and brisk patrol might help his mind clear.
Taking a quick look in the mirror to make sure he was presentable, he then stepped out of his office and began to patrol, his unusual red Commissar uniform making him stan out amongst the black and yellow troopers, as well as his colleagues.

"Certainly Corporal, personally I believe that any piece of equipment rusting in the supply depot instead of being turned against our enemies is a waste.
This does look like a mere oversight, and should not incur such a stiff penalty.
However, it has to be seen that you receive some form of punishment, and volunteering is often seen as such."

The Commissar stands and extend a hand to the Corporal.
"Good luck on your mission Corporal Olways, the emperor look after you."

The Commissar indicates the chair opposite his desk.
"Come in corporal Olways, sit down. We have an important matter to discuss."

Tapping the stack of parchments on his desk, The Commissar directs a black eyed stare towards Simmins.
"Every downtime means a lot of work for Commissars, but most of these are tiny infractions, needing little more than a warning or a writeup, handed over to the junior members of the Commissariat."

"This one, pertaining to you however, is rather more severe.
An accusation of black marketeering."

Skimming over the relevant documentation, The Commissar folds his hands in front of his face and looks at Olways.
"A requisition form in your name for ammunition to a heavy stubber, a weapon you are not supposed to posses.
HOWEVER...
According to my files, you were recently transferred from your old specialty where you were in fact in possession of a heavy stubber.
This leaves me wondering if it is not racketeering but rather an oversight on your part, failing to release the stubber in question back to the supply masters?"

"While a much lesser charge than racketeering, such an oversight could still see you stripped of your promotion corporal.
I am loathe to strip a rank from someone so quickly, and especially since the rank in question is untested.
Therefor I offer you an alternative.
As you are in fact untested, should you volunteer to be part of our next mission, I shall post date your request, thus allowing you the chance to hand in the stubber nice and orderly, and then make a request to be issued a new one (merging the request for ammunition), and thus spare us all needless problems."

After having spoken with the three troopers he had scheduled, the Commissar sits down to go through his paperwork.
So far, he had not been given a dedicated Batsman, and was thus forced to deal with these things himself.
One file seemed interesting and demanded his intimidate attention.
"A suspicion of black market activity? That is a rather serious accusation, and if true, could lead all the way to a penal legion transfer."

Rising, he Commissar leaves to find someone to locate the offending trooper for him.
It wouldn't be seen to run after every complaint in person, plus, if the trooper was innocent, it would be a shame to damage his reputation.
Instead, he sends a summon to one trooper Olways to come to his office.

Perhaps I should make some rolls too?
Charm on Cecil (Fel +20): 1d100 ⇒ 46
Command on Sgt Henner (Fel +20): 1d100 ⇒ 44
Intimidate on Ulric (Fel +20): 1d100 ⇒ 7

Those are all successes, even if I also get -20

Sitting in his makeshift office, the Commissar waits patiently.
He had been made aware, thanks to his building reputation for fairness, that some troopers would probably benefit from having a conversation.
He had prepared himself by reading their files as well as finding out what their problems seemed to be.

It seemed clear that all three would need a different hand so to speak, and his first appointment was with trooper Cecil.

As the woman entered, the Commissar was currently sitting at the edge of his desk, affecting a friendly and un-intimidating mien.
"Trooper Cecil, come in, shut the door behind you and take a seat please."

This woman needed building up, to understand that being rattled by a near death experience didn't in any way make her less of a person, or a coward.

"You are not a coward trooper Cecil. Fear is a natural part of life.
You have heard the saying "Fearless fool" no doubt? There is a lot of truth to that.
Those that truly do not feel fear are often fools, they are unafraid simply because they are too foolish to realize the danger.
But being afraid is no weakness, as long as you do not let fear rule you.
How can you be brave if you don't have fear to overcome?"

Taking a pin, he taps it against his black eyeballs, letting a faint "ting" sound through the air.
"You think I did not know fear, waking up and being blind? Fearing I would forever be stuck in darkness?
I knew fear then, deep, primal fear.
But you may have heard how I risked my life to save troopers during our latest engagement?
Fear might be in my heart, but it cannot rule me, for others rely on me, just as they rely on you.
And it goes both ways trooper Cecil, you may rely on others as well."

After an hour of talking to the trooper, he sent her on her way, telling her to return the next day if she felt like it.

Now came the Sergeant, he was in some ways easier to understand still, a leader who lost all, he needed to understand that he could lead again, and redeem himself in his own eyes as well as the eyes of the emperor.

This time, as the knock on the door came, the Commissar sat behind the desk, more business like, a stern but fair father figure perhaps.

"Enter! Sgt Henner, right on time. Punctuality becomes you Sgt."

Indicating the empty seat, the Commissar waits until the Sgt is seated.
"In some ways troopers admire, respect and envy storm troopers.
The superior gear, the training, the strong bonds of comradeship...
And yet, there is a weakness there.
When storm troopers loose a member of the squad, they become less efficient permanently.
The bond prevents reinforcements, it would be impossible to add a new trooper to the mix without reducing their effective combat potential more than it already is for the loss."

"In a way, the bonds we forge with our fellow troopers is less strong, but also less limited.
We have the ability to forge bonds with those we lead, and sometimes we lose them, only to forge new bonds, wowing to do better, to lead better.
We accept that sometimes we simply cannot succeed, but we try our best, because what else can we do?
And if troopers die and we live? That means we will still have a chance to do better, so that the next troopers we lead can benefit from the hard earned lessons we've been taught by the battlefield.
Remember Sgt, no death is without meaning or purpose, the emperor decrees it so."

Another hour passes before the Sgt is sent on his way.
The final meeting was with the flame trooper Ulric. Strange name that, for some reason it seemed ill fitting for a flame trooper, the name brought the images of ice to the Commissars mind. ice and...wolves?

This time, the Commissar prepared the room to be a bit more intimidating.
He purposely lowered the chair the visitor sat in, as well as raised his own for example, small little tricks of the trade.

The Knock that came on the door was quickly followed by a barked "Come!" without pause.

"Trooper Ulric! Are you the enemy?" The Commissar barked as soon as the trooper had sat down.
"If not, then why are you directing your hatred towards your weapon rather than the enemy?
Are you responsible for the death of your comrades? Or is it the enemy?
Are you saying you would rather go into the field with a possibly faulty weapon, risking your comrades lives because you neglected to care for your assigned weapon, that you did not learn how to use it well?
Tell me Trooper Ulric, is it not a more fitting tribute to your fallen comrades to learn how the flame works so that you may make sure it works for us rather than the enemy?
To bring the flame of justice and retribution towards our hated foe?
Truly skilled flame troopers can use their own fire to create breeches in infernos, to redirect fire, to counter others.
Is that not what you should learn, what you should desire.
To be the torch that lights the way, and the shield that guards the front?"

"I understand, I only ask that we may bring our honored dead along as well.
They deserve better than to rot away among these heretics."

The Commissar nods to the others, making sure they understand that they are to accept the situation without fuss.

"I'm afraid we cannot answer that, as we lack information what a cyberworm is.
If a cyberworm is an independent thing, and very small, it might have escaped the body while we were busy destroying the emplacement.
As for the second question, yes, during our treck to the target, we came across a deamon creature setting up an altar.
We destroyed the creature as well as the altar."

The Commissar can't quite keep a bemused look of his face as his fairly reasonable order of "Call up the bunker and ask if they have a tech priest that could identify the code" turned into "call up the bunker and ask a random person if THEY know the code.

He also wasn't entirely pleased at hearing Yeta's voice.
The man was a madman, and since he had not ALWAYS been so, it was somewhat regrettable.

"Hmmm, Alpha 6642, you said the signal occurred to the south east? I believe that this would put it in the area where the distraction attack happened.
The other element of our force currently in the trenches made and attack there to distract the enemy from my own group of infiltrators, while we made a strike at the lascannon emplacement."

"Lieutenant, the group currently holding the bunker providing us with fire support, can you contact them and ask if they include a tech priest?
Even if it's not the one we are after, he may be able to identify this Secundus Rho-Zero-Gamma-Rho-Four-Seven-Four."

"Ordinary troopers are unlikely to know an admechs id code.
But admechs assigned to guard regiments tends to have a more common designation s well, so maybe if you tell us that one?"

The Commissar frowned, sure this was a test, but unsure of what exactly the test was.
However, he certainly couldn't answer a question that he had absolutely no knowledge of.
"I am Commissar Ludicus Marleno, of the Serenust 1st, recently deployed to Junatan 3 where we successfully vanquished the Ork warboss Screwdriva.
We were not meant to be deployed here as we have been blown off course by warp current, or so I have been told."

"You really should get into contact with our Colonel for further information.
As for your question, we have encountered no tech priest bearing that designation.
Indeed, the only tech priest we have encountered was in the cannon emplacement, and was most assuredly not a loyalist."

"We don't leave our fallen heroes behind.
If need be, I shall carry her myself."

"We'll have to see what we can arrange Trooper Tark.
I'm afraid that the traditional 21 gun salute might be somewhat outside of our current capabilities."

"That would be the rather large and bloody fellow over here, Sergeant Walkover."
The Commissar puts a hand on Kersin's shoulder.

"And while we wait, I suspect it may not be a very long wait, let me express my pride in all of you troopers.
You have done the emperor proud today, as far as I am concerned, each and every one of you is a hero in his or her own right."

"Everyone, follow trooper Edwards example."

Turning to the Lieutenant, the Commissar strokes his chin for a moment.
"Well, we are safe for the moment, but I believe we should probably talk to this "Alpha" on our own, and with our weapons sheathed, to avoid stirring up any trouble."

Turning to the other troopers, The Commissar affects a half smile.
"Well, for the moment, we appear to be safe enough. When the Lieutenant and I step out to meet with this admech leader, you will keep your weapons at hand but lowered, and look to the sergeant for command."

"If there is any doubt, we can officially surrender to your custody, and allow the higher ups to straighten this situation out."

The warp?!

Tapping his combead, Ludicus opens the command channel.
"This is Commissar Marleno, we have a problem with the admech reinforcements, they are not recognizing the official codes. Advice please."

The Commissar steps to the front, to make sure he is seen.

"Commissar Marleno, of the Serenus 1st, identity code H, 3, Rho, 0.
Todays code is Alpha, Rho, Sigma, Epsilon."

"Sergeant, dispatch your foe with the emperors wrath!"

Heroic inspiration: 1d100 ⇒ 64
Not quite enough sadly.

Turning back to his own foe, the Commissar lashes out, taking advantage of the fact that the enemy doesn't seem capable of simple tactics, like parrying for example.

Attack: 1d100 ⇒ 27
Damage: 2d10 + 6 ⇒ (8, 6) + 6 = 20
Another 14 damage, 2 pen, take that!

Thinking that it would be best to fell his enemy quickly so he can step in and help the struggling Sergeant, Ludicus lashes out with his chainsword.

Attack: 1d100 ⇒ 18
Damage: 2d10 + 6 ⇒ (8, 4) + 6 = 18
14 damage, 2 pen

"Well done trooper Edward, your skill honors our regiment.
Well? Form up and cover that side, any unfriendly dare approach us from there I want them taken out before they become a danger."

Tapping his microbead, the Commissar sends over the guard net.
"This is commissar Ludicus Marleno, calling the Ad mech contingency, please identify yourself."

Always best to have a name attached to your rescuers, it helps with the paperwork as well as...other things...

While talking, he also engages his telescopic sight, scanning the area Lynn covers so he can see the enemy as well.

"Keep firing to the front troopers, me and the sergeant will cover the rear.
Sergeant, with me! We shall teach them a final lesson.
That lesson is, SILENCE FOR THE EMPEROR!"

Stepping up, chainsword in one hand, bolt pistol in the other, the Commissar narrows his eyes, allowing them to work their magic before firing the bolt pistol, aiming to thin the herd coming towards them.

Cinema: 1d100 ⇒ 31
I think that can be considered a success.

Quickly realizing that shooting isn't the best option for him to do, the Commissar falls back on doing what he tends to do best.
Inspire people to do better.

"Troopers! This is the final stretch!
We have completed our mission, and now we merely need to hold on long enough for our reinforcements to arrive.
It has been a hard mission, and you have all done your duty well.
Now we need to live to reap the rewards, and we have a duty to make sure our comrades who have died will be remembered.
Brace yourself, aim true, strike with precision.
I am proud of you!
For the emperor and for the grandchildren!"

Command (Fel +10): 1d100 ⇒ 49

"Perhaps a somewhat excessive prayer Lieutenant.
I would surmise that the rite of reloading and aiming might service us well enough should we repeat them.
It is unfortunate that we neglected to retrieve the heavy stubber if we are to dig in here for any length of time."

Completely forgot Awareness, which is logical considering...
Awareness (Per -20/-10 if sight): 1d100 ⇒ 4

T...that's a success, holy hell!

"We'll keep that option open trooper Tark, should we at some point pas close enough to the distraction team for it to be feasible.
For now, we should focus on spiking the gun and getting to safety.
The more steps a plan has, the more things can fail after all."

The Commissar stands straight and begins to dust of his sleeves.
"It is every troopers duty to keep themselves alive to serve the emperor.
...
However, there is no regulation against helping a fellow solider if you have an opportunity."

The Commissar looks around for a moment before coming to a decision.

"This place looks like a complete loss, we would require an enginseer and a priest to consecrate the area before it was safe to use.
I am inclined to agree with trooper Tark.
If we prevent it from falling back into the hands of the enemy, we will have performed our duty fully.
Besides, our losses are too great to be able to hold here.
If we merely spike the guns, we can retreat, report our success, and allow the distraction element to fall back as well.
We can all regroup and wait for further orders and reinforcements."

As the searing storm of energy bolts starts to punch through the barricades and slam into Felix, a pair of strong hands reach out and grab her, and before too many of them manage to hit, she finds herself pulled to one side and on top of a commissar suddenly holding her.
That position only last for a brief second before she find a gloved hand on her head and another roll, finding herslef somewhat shielded from the worst of the storm by a most unexpected (if somewhat heavy) bodyshield.

As soon as the storm abates, the Commissar scrambles of her, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Come on Trooper, napping on the job is unacceptable behavior. There is still a lot of work to be done!"

Heroic inspiration: 1d100 ⇒ 41

"Sniper Edward! Kindly remove whatever passes as this "things" misbegotten head!"

Success, 2/4 used.

Having motivated the troopers, helped stabilize the stubber, and called out a command the Commissar then also dodges low behind the barricades.

"The only betters we recognize is the emperor of mankind and the high lords of Terra.
You are a filthy heretic, and we do not fear you, we will END you!"

Galvanizing presence: 1d100 ⇒ 28

"I'm blinded, guide my hands trooper!"

Toughness -10: 1d100 ⇒ 79
Agh! Emperor dammit!

Dazzled and blinded, the Commissar quickly crouches low removing his goggles and keeping in cover until his sights return.

That was a fun round for me.

With the immediate enemies neutralized, the Commissar found himself in a slightly uncertain situation.
Shooting into melee would be dangerous, especially for someone as poor a shot as him.
Going into melee didn't seem like a particularly sane option either.
But maybe...

"Trooper Tark, over here. You may not be trained using a heavy stubber, but that generator is an immobile target.
Let us take it out, I shall load you."

Command 1/4 (Fel + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 99

The Commissar, having landed and now facing two foes, opens his mouth to command Felix to shoot one of the heretics down before they have a chance to join combat properly.
However, instead of the rich baritone of the former master at arms, only a small squawk emerges, not loud enough to even be heard by the commissar himself over the din of combat.

Embarrassed, but thankfully hidden fro anyone decides to heed the words of his erstwhile drill instructor.
"The emperor smiles on those that make their own luck in life."

Attack: 1d100 ⇒ 20
Damage: 2d10 + 7 ⇒ (8, 9) + 7 = 24
Headstrike that, 16 wounds.

Acrobatics (Ag -20 + 20):1d100 ⇒ 31

Despite hardly being trained in such things, the Commissar just barely manages to clear the barricade AND stick the landing.