Thud nods. Thirty seconds later he's displaying one of the hallmark qualities of a true Guardsman: he's passed out, asleep against the comforting armor of the Chimera.
As the ogryn slumps, he reveals a much smaller guardsman behind. The man is looking through the crates of gear next to the chimera.
Tutting loudly, he swings up a locally made launcher tube and checks the sights.
"Spinward drift, that will need adjusting for. There'll be kick too..."
Flicking from one hypothetical target to another, he realises too late that he has a 'target lock' directly between the eyes of his Lt. He drops the weapon, wincing at the clanging impact, and throws a parade ground salute, eyes locked to the middle distance.
"Private Drips, reporting to muster as ordered, Sir. Sorry, Sir."
Before Cormaeg stands a private, his uniform is... Perfect. Not the unblemished perfect of a fresh recruit, nor the starched crispness of a try-hard. There is just no element of the well worn uniform that even the strictest commissar could find fault with. The man is otherwise unremarkable: tallish, blondish, a classic trooper.
Cormaeg takes a moment to study the new trooper before answering his salute back.
"Private Drips is it? Very well.
I take it from your little demonstration that you are familiar with launcher type weapons?
Any other weapons besides the standard las rifle you are skilled with?"
The local launcher is a pretty hefty beast in fact. It comes with an attached weapon shield and a pretty advanced sighting and targeting system, which seems to be specifically designed to acquire a good lock on vehicles. For this with experience with such things, its a repurposed Hunter-Killer targeter.
Overall, those aspects of the pattern make it heavy and bulky as hell but were quite obviously and purposefully designed for entrenched infantry and anti-vehicle defense.
"Standard Las, Sir?"
He knows!
His eyes flick over to where he has left his kit in a pile, a couple of carry-alls and two weapons cases.
"Yes sir, standard las. And launchers. Shotguns, autos, las-locks, bolt-action, stubbers... Carbines. I can turn my hand to most in a push. If I may speak freely sir?"
His pause I barely long enough to catch a breath, let alone reply
"These local launchers are inadequate for the effective mobile operations of the modern guard. Sir. They will require a static and stilled strategy that is not suitable for mechanised advance. I recommend we only make use of them in the direst of circumstances. Sir."
He is still stood to attention in full salute. But for one misdemeanor he has not even moved his eyes.
Cormaeg's eyes narrow imperceptibly, he hadn't missed that little glance, but decided to not make an issue of it just now.
"Stubbers as well? Good, that'll be useful.
Given a chance, I'd seek training in flamers as well down the line.
Of course, that is not a concern for now."
Cormaeg considers the words of the trooper for a moment.
"Well, it's hardly surprising. It's most likely made with the Skitari in mind, rather than us flesh and blood soldiers."
Taking a step closer, Cormaeg meets Cuthber's eyes and holds his gaze for a moment.
"For further references, trooper Drips, situational awareness is vital for a guardsman.
According to regulations, aiming a weapon at your commanding officer is an offence punishable by field execution.
I'd REALLY dislike having to waste a trooper on something like that, clear?"
"Clear as Sacra, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir. Sorry, Sir."
"What won't happen again trooper?
I have no idea what you could be referring to.
I didn't see you aiming a weapon at your commanding officer just now, because you did not in fact do that."
"At ease Private Drips."
Glacing over at the "command" APC, Comraeg motions towards it's grenade launcher.
"You are with me in the APC over there.
It's a bit light on armament, but how would you feel about manning the grenade launcher?
Or do you think you would be more useful elsewhere?"
A large man, who looks possibly part Catachan and certainly not from Serenus, moves easily into the area occupied by the others. His kit is all brand new, still-creased from the stores, except for the power fist attached to his left arm, which wears several scratches that seem to have been patched with a basic paint job.
The brand new kit seems at odds with the soldier wearing them, his weather-beaten face, scarred arms and old military tattoos giving him away as 'experienced'!
Looking around slowly he eventually spots the LT, watches him ball out another soldier before hurrying over, coming to a perfect salute, eyes sighted 6 inches over the LTs head, as only a product of the scholam progenium can.
"SIR, Trooper Hastings, I mean sorry sir, PRIVATE Hastings looking for Lieutenant MacCammon or Sergeant Tivnan, am I in the right place SIR!"
Hmm, what do we have here? This looks like a man who might mirror myself to a degree.
"At ease Private Hastings.
You are looking...in the vicinity of Lieutenant MacCammon."
Taking out a date slate, Cormaeg notices Hastings name assigned to the command APC as well.
"Looks like you are with me, Hastings.
Together with Private Drips here, and our sleeping muscle behind me, Bone 'ead Thud'dr.
The Sergeant has yet to arrive."
"By the looks of your kit, you are specialised in melee combat, Private Hastings?"
Cuthbert walks around the vehicle slowly.
"Not the worst ride I've had the pleasure of using. Are we med support sir? Or just lucky?"
Hoisting himself up, he stands on top of the tank.
"I'd be a good option for the launcher sir, one of the best."
There is no irony in his voice, no false modesty
"It's a shame we don't have a gear head with us, we could try and mount one of those siege launchers up here. Wouldn't want to try myself, on account of the spirits, Sir."
Looking down he spots a newcomer approach, atop the chimera, he crouches on his haunches to watch.
"Luck in the guards is usually not a factor Private Drips. Fortunately, we won't be going on our own, and the other transports are better armed than our own."
"As for the launcher, consider yourself assigned to it for the duration Drips."
"Considering that we are in the middle of a Mekboy base, and we're going to fight in their war, you would think they could spare a cogboy for us.
So far, I do not think we've had that pleasure.
At least, my orders do not mention it."
"That's right sir, like it up close and personal sir. I've been assigned to you straight from the medbay sir, still got some of their confetti jammed up under this flak vest, but it's all who can fight assigned to units for this one, not that I had much intention of missing out!" a happy and vicious grin crosses his face before a look of sheepishness joins it. " Sir, I'm feeling a little 'light' without me ol' carapace and kit, plus I haven't found my way round this regiment's way of doing things yet, any chance someone could help me see if I can get a couple of things? Mostly looking for a riot shield for breach and clear stuff, or a carapace breastplate, my old one had a big old bit of shrapnel sticking through it when they cut it off me. Spare bolt shells for Ol' Betsy here and spare frags for that breach and clear stuff again?"
"Hmmm, well, I do want my troopers to be well kitted for the mission.
Here, a standard requisition form.
Fill it in and I'll see what I can do."
"Yes Sir"
After executing a smart dismiss action, Grox goes to move off and fill in the paperwork, but catches himself and , jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the sleeping Thud'dr "Sir, did you say the big lad is joining us! I really hope so, I've heard a lot about him, and he sounds fun"
"That is correct Hastings.
Bone 'ead Thud'Dr is indeed joining us for this mission.
Just "Thud" will do for him, but you'll get a chance to introduce yourself soon enough.
I have little doubt he'll enjoy having another "little 'un" fighting beside him in Melee."
ZzZzZzzzzzZZZ Thud responds. It sounded enthusiastic?
Leni waltzes in, not from the direction of the barracks but the entrance roughly in the direction of the medbay. She's still in blood splattered apron and chirurgical gloves but discards both soon after entering.
She wave-salutes towards Cormaeg while passing him, the blows him a kiss with a naughty kid expression, wink-grin with slightly shown tounge.
Still her first destination is her locker. She grabs her new specialist kit and grumbles for about the hundredth time about having to specifically ask for a medkit now. After finally attaching the Magnoculars to her belt she finally heads over to Cormaeg. And gives him a proper salute this time. They ARE in front of the troops after all.
"Sergeant Tivnan reporting back from Medbay duty. I still gotta ask the Munitorum guys for some stuff thought. Sending me out without medkit..."
"Ah, Sergeant Tivnan.
Glad to have you join us."
That woman is going to be the death of me, but what a way to go...
"I know that Thud will be pleased to see you once he wakes up.
You are in command of this squad, and you report to me.
Looks like it's a three squad mission we've been assigned to."
Patting the Chimera, Cormaeg nods to Leni.
"They may not have assigned you a medi kit, but they did assign you a medivac.
Before going to the quarter masters, check inside and see if there is a spare one in the kit first."
In his sleep, Thud'Dr is hunting on the soft, pillowy fresh-snow. The sounds of the world are dead. Caught and smothered in the fresh fallen drifts. There is no quarry in sight yet. No seal or caribou. He hasn't even seen any predators beside the one Great Eagle. The cold seeps to his bones, drawing him into connections with the world. He breathes with the wind and sighs with the wind-snow as it is carried off the drift-peaks.
There is a voice carried on the wind. Stern and yet playful. It's followed by a tougher voice that feels like leather and discipline. It's time.
Thud snaps awake, the transition from sound asleep to perfectly alert taking fractions of a second. With a great heave that sets the Chimera to rocking he takes to his feet and beams a terrifying smile at Mamma Leni.
Mamma Leni! Thud heard you on the dream-snows! I'm so happy to see you! I made you a givey! He pulls out something that, for him, is a delicate work. It's a six inch brass cog with a strip of industrial canvass tied to the center and hanging down a full foot from the toothed edge. On the canvas, written (or possibly just stained) in what looks like engine grease, is written the Chorus of Spiritual Fortitude in rough high gothic mixed with what looks like the spelling of a child.
By the Emperor... it's a purity seal?
"Thud, I know you are glad to see "Mamma Leni" but remember, she is a Sergeant now.
You salute her and call her Sarge.
THEN you give her the..."Givey"."
Cormaeg looks sternly, but not unkindly on Thud, radiating his command.
"Remember what we talked about, the men with the caps do not like it if we don't salute properly."
Thud jumps at the correction and salutes, forgetting about the six inch hunk of brass in his hand. The gear hits his forehead with enough force to crack any other person's skull, but he barely winces.
Mamma Sarge Leni, yes, Ma'am. I give you a Givey!
It's not even close to fit for the parade ground, but that's what only a few months of training gets you. Thud extends the gift and smiles at Cormaeg. Like dat, Eltee?
Leni answers Cormaeg before being interrupted by Thud waking up.
"Ohh fun stuff. More room to pick up the pieces and sew them back together. I'll check in a minute"
Then Thud interjects.
Leni grins at the exchange. She probably shouldn't but Thud'dr doesn't have any ill intent and no malice at least towards the squad. So no reason to control her outwards appearance here.
She properly returns Thuds salute "Nice to see you Bone'ead Thud'dr."
Then looses the fake "stand to attention" tension "Happy we'll be out there together, Big'un. Now let's see what you made there. Ohhhh that's nicely made. For me? I love it! Now I just need a good way to secure it to my armor. I kinda want to combine it with my good luck charm tho, is that okay?"
She takes a spent bolgun shell casing which has been hanging from her belt and shows it to Thud'dr. The casing is larger than it should be and is engraved with an aquila marking bearing a striking resemblence to the one you always see in murals. Astartes murals.
Cormaeg nods, allowing himself to switch from stern dad to proud dad for a moment.
"Exactly like that Thud, well done."
Cormaeg stepped back and looked through the req forms he had been given.
Quite a bunch of stuff they want.
If it was up to me, I'd give them pretty much all of it, but...it's not up to me.
And I don't want to break bank with the quartermasters, that'd be bad for my career.
I guess I'll pick the pieces from each form that'd be hardest to get, and let them try for the small stuff themselves.
Cuthbert is poised to drop from the chimera roof next to the motley quartet, when he reconsiders, not wanting to make another bad impression. He drops from the other side of the vehicle and approaches on foot. Drawing himself to his textbook attention.
"Sergeant. Private Drips."
He is not as thrown by the obvious pre-existing bond between his squad mates as one might think. The regiment had suffered extensive losses in recent years and almost constant rearrangements meant being ready to drop into all sorts of social arrangements.
Leni pulls out another fine salute for Drips. Still hating it as much as when she was on the other side and it probably shows somewhere in her posture, but it's not obvious enough that anyone pointed it out to her yet.
"Private Drips. I'm Leni Tivnan. Call me Sarge while higher ups are in earshot. Among ourselves Leni is fine. I'll sew you back together if you leave enough bits of yourself lying around for me to find. That and shouting at you to do dangerous stuff. So what's your speciality?"
"Ok sarge."
Cuthbert flicks a glance at the Lt. in his view very much a "high-up."
"The lieutenant's put me on the launcher tube. Making more bits of them than they make of us is what I do better than most. If I can be plain, Sarge, do you know where we're headed? Looks like we've been given a lot of launchers here. Are we to expect armoured resistance?"
Leni takes a moment to think about what the actual intentions behind their current orders is.
Cormaeg's praise brings a proud straightening of Thud's spine. Doing things the right way is so awesome!
Thud nods vigorously at Leni's suggestion of combining it, seemingly just happy to see her happy.
Cormaeg is too deep in his ruminations about gear that he isn't currently paying attention to the others.
Hmmm, another request for Carapace armour...
I have to get buddy buddy with a mekboy at some point, so I can get some insight into how different the process to manufacture carapace is from flak.
Is it really that more difficult and/or expensive?
SOME regiments seem to be able to afford at least partial carapace for their troops.
Subconsciously, Cormaeg reaches into his front pocket and withdraws a cheroot, stick it between his teeth and begins to slowly chew.
Leni scratches her chin for a moment before answering Drips.
And another moment passes before she decides what to tell him about it. Mentioning the big stuff on our side would certainly boost morale but on the other hand it would also highlight how little firepower we have in comparison...
"Well I wouldn't worry about the launchers if I were you. That's just the local market doing its thing. But yes there will be loads of armour on both sides out there.
But the big stuff is not our concern, since we aren't even equiped to deal with it."
She waves her hand at the Chimera, roughly where a main gun could've been
"I believe there will be three phases in this mission:
First, Support the big stuff, meaning prevent it from getting swamped by enemy infantery targets
Second, The big stuff supports us in breaking through to some kind of hinterland objective
Third, Get off of our wild stallion and do whatever is required at the objective."
Thinking about this a thought strikes Leni and she turns to Cormaeg.
"Saaay, Lt, those suits we're supposed to get for the mission... aren't going to fit the Big'un, are they? Any ex-sergeanty wisdom whom to talk to to get at least _something_ ready for him in time?"
Cormaeg snaps back to reality and blinks for a moment as he processes Leni's question.
"No, but I think I know whom to ask.
According to the squad makeup I've got here, Second Squad have a dedicated Ogryn handler, a Specialist 1st class Hardley.
If someone is likely to have those kinds of connections, it would be that trooper.
And should that be a bust, we'll have to run it by the quartermasters when we hand these req forms in."
Ambling up with the form mostly filled in, Grox looks up about to ask a question and spots the sergeant has joined the group. Snapping back into military discipline, he marches up neatly and throws a salute. "Sergeant Tivnan I presume, Private Hastings reporting from medbay, I believe I saw you in there sarge, didn't realise they'd stuck the docs on the front line too now! Can't say its a bad thing though, less ditance for someone to carry me!"
Leni turns to the newcommer and returns the salute.
"That's me. Sarge will do tho, or Leni while we're among ourselves. And it's not the docs being stuck onto the front. I'm just a little front line medic getting medbay duties because I had prior education before joining the regiment. And lots of chances to get experience with the guys of the squad. Looking at you you'll feel right at home with them."
Thud takes immediate notice of the new guy now that he didn't have the distraction of remembering his gift to Leni. He looks the grizzled beefcake of a man up and down before smiling that terrifying and yet child-like grin of stained marble protrusions masquerading as teeth.
Hi Lit'leUn! You be a Mamma Leni kid now?
Leni then half turns towards Cormaeg and interrupts the answer towards Thud "Did you greet the Lt alread tho? I'm still new to the whole leadership thing but I believe you're supposed to start with the important guys and work your way down"
A grin is plastered on her face, indicating that despite her "careful" words she is having a lot of fun pointing the private to the "super important" personal
"Sorry Thud, rules to follow"
"Trooper... Mister... Pastor... Thud'dr?"
It is clear that Cuthbert has not had a lot of dealings with Ogryn
"How effectively could you wield one of these?"
He could probably fire one on the move... Probably not very accurate though... Can his fingers even work the trigger?
He hefts one of the shielded launchers and hands it to the ogryn.
Thud turns his huge, jagged grin on Dreamer. He doesn't really respond to any of the names, suggesting that he'll probably respond to all of them. He takes the large metal weapon in one hand and gives it a few experimental swings. It's empty tube whooshes and howls impressively, but Thud seems unimpressed. Eh. It's all hollow and stuff. No Fump to it. I guess I could handle it if ya want. I like dis better. He pats the handle of his Evicerator that's peeking over his shoulder.
"...Good to know my friend. How about you? Grox is it? Can you handle a tube if it comes it?"
He eyes the man's power fist, trying to work out if the thing is built into the flesh.
Through the knot of troopers, two cackling ones approach the first squad.
Specialist 1st class Frederick "Speaker" Miller, a regal looking man in his fourtys with greying, curly hair, is your assigned driver and vox operator. He abruptly comes to a standstill as he witnesses an Ogryn test-swinging a missile launcher as if it were a bat.
The same sight is making "Lost" cackle even harder and somewhat more hysterical. She is a blonde bombshell, with striking violet eyes and your navigator and "Speaker's" Co-Pilot.
"Told you we would get to ferry HIM, didn't I?!", she crackles and then makes the sign of the Aquila to the Ogryn in priest's robes.
Thud drops the launcher in Dreamer's hands and returns the sign. His large fingers make the Aquila look like the bird of prey it represents.
What so funny? he asks with a little worry at missing the joke.
"Ahh, it's nothing, father.
Its just the usual crazy of guard life and the small moments of hilarity it produces.
We just passed "Patchy" back there and saw him tripping over the robe of a local tech priest and scatter his entire load over several square meters of floor. He just should walk three times rather than stacking his stuff so high, he cannot even see over it.
And, well, the mix of profanities he was shouting mixed with the irritated buzzing of the cogboy were just the icing on the cake."
The exchange seemed to have caught the attention of one of those cogboys. He looked very much as if somebody had taken a suit of heavy armour and decided to dedicate it to the Adeptus Mechanicus - that is, paint it red, bolt on some mechadendrites and iconography, drape some red robes over the top and give it a big, cog-toothed axe.
This was perhaps not so far from the truth, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the fact that the faceplate was open, revealing a lined but surprisingly unmodified-looking human face. Currently wearing a despairing expression.
"This," the man muttered in a crackly voice which one might suspect was intended to carry (after all, surely if he were really talking to himself it would just be irritated buzzing), "Is why there is an approved list of Ogryn-friendly weaponry. Omnissiah preserve me from people who don't read the manuals."
The grenade launcher having apparently survived the experience, he chose not to press the matter, instead zeroing in on the commanding officer and clumping his way over. "Lieutenant MacCammon? Magos Duct Vidic reporting. I have been assigned to act as your liaison and local guide." Duct formally handed the lieutenant a scroll setting out those orders, under the seal of the Tacticae Triumvirate - the highest authority within the Hiveforge. A careful read would reveal that the Triumvirate hadn't specified that Duct would be assigned to MacCammon's unit specifically, but best not to inspect a gift tech-priest's bionics.
Cormaeg takes the paperwork offered and gives it a quick once over.
A full on Magos? Now THIS is getting interesting.
"Well then, Magos Vidic, happy to have you.
Would you be willing to give our transports a quick once over?
I'd rather take a few minutes for a double check, than lose an hour in the field because something was overlooked."
"Of course," Duct crackled approvingly, "So much more efficient to perform the rites of maintenance beforehand than in the field, under fire."
He expected there would be plenty of field repairs to be performed under fire soon enough. No sense in adding to their workload.
"Yes sarge, he's had me filling in some forms for kit, was trying to figure out how many extra frags I could ask for. I can't use my lasgun much when this fist is fired up, but I have a good throwing arm."
Grox turned to look at the massive unit of an ogryn, he had seen ogryns before but it was a different experience when one looked like he was only a couple of steps away from giving the sergeant a hug, particularly when this one had the reputation he did. Patting the ogryn on the arm companionably he blanched slightly and the thick slabs of muscle and at how far as a tall man he still had to reach up" Hi big lad, yes, I'm with you and sergeant Leni now, we can get some good smashing done yes?"
Chuckling over the interaction between Private Drips and the Ogryn, he answers up to his nickname. "Yeah that's right, on account of how I much i eat and definitely nothing to do with me being a grumpy fracker. As for the tube I'd give it a go, can't be that hard right, but no not trained as such."
While "Grox" and Thud'dr size each other up, heavy grunting and shuffling and general ruckus can be heard from the other side of your chimera, from the direction of 2nd Squad.
Moments later, two more massive ogryns turn around the vehicle and approach their red-robed kindred. Those two lack the clearly visible brain cybernetics of Thud'dr however. They are also not robed but wear thick strips of armor plating seemingly bolted right onto their flesh as well as carry big shields in addition to the signature ripper guns and additional heavy maces.
On their chests, stenciled in large white letters, they bear their names and unit assignments.
Un'Groll - Serenus 1st, 2-2-2
Duk'Tar - Serenus 1st, 2-2-2
They stop three steps from Thud'dr and slab their fists against their shields, causing some serious noise and grunt in not-really-unison:
"Oi, Bruva-da-speak-for-Emprah. Da lil'un wunz us ta go in metal box. But is dark'in 'ere!"
Rounding the corner after the two brutes comes a sturdy looking trooper with noticeable greying, black hair and half-beard with a quite exasperated expression. Name tag reads Smith and he bears the markings of a Specialist First Class and big yellow patch with a black hand, pointing right with two black shapes in the back: the sign of an Ogryn handler.
Thud turns from Grox to face his two brothers square. His brow knits together when they report their willful disobedience. His eyes quickly find their handler.
Is day yer lil'un? he asks pointing at the handler. When they nod and grunt, he steps forward to the man and takes his thick rosarius in his hand. You be lil'un. Da DARK has no fear for ya. Not for me neither. But you fail at leaderin'. Bruva Un'Groll an Bruva Duk'Tar know da Creeps in da dark. Day tingle on the brain. You gotta STUMP EM! Be Bigga! Be LOUDA! He roars, the sound of this bravery echoing between machines.
LEMME HEAR YA ROAR AWAY DA DARK!
Cormaeg observes Thud's interaction with a raised eyebrow.
I had forgotten that Bone 'eads are the Ogryn equivalent to officers. This will be interesting.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans back for a moment.
Leni was settling into the role of a Sergeant fairly well (with her own irreverent spin on it of course), Thud was Bon'eading it up, The Magos was busy doing last minute check ups, and the troopers were mingling.
so this is it? This is the life of a junior officer?
The heavy lifting is done by the NCO's, and the important stuff is done by the seniors, leaving nothing for us?
Rubbing his nose he groans in annoyance.
I need to get promoted again REALLY soon, there is no way I can put up with this for long.
Smith looks a bit dubious at first but then the two Ogryns suck in air with huge force and their upper bodies swell ominously. A few heartbeats later every other sound in the general vicinity is drowned out by the sound of two absolutely deafening, conflicting and overlapping shouts that make your ears ring like danger-close artillery strike. And yet, the to conflicting voices start to come together to a crude canon-like song.
Their handler, hands pressed over his ears, smirks in an expression of "Really, guys?", then also sings along - probably. You really cannot hear him over the auditory onslaught of the singing (?) Ogryns.
They continue to shout and scream as Smith is leading them off towards the second squad's chimera - with a mouthed "thanks" towards Thud'dr and a quick salute towards the lieutenant.