<Colt> ---------------------------------NO MORE OOC LINE------------------------------------
* Valera is now known as Liar
* You are now known as ColtGM
* Liar is now known as Liar[sleep]
<ColtGM> It was a cold night back on Bront, the junior Commissars had just got everyone lined up on the parade field for the Founding. A lone Sergeant mounts the stage, his voice amplified and distorted by a loudhailer. "You're in the Guard now!" he said, pacing back and forth in front of the formation. "You know what that means? That means you serve the Emperor from now until you no longer draw breath!" The Sergeant stopped in the center of
<ColtGM> the stage and gazed over the body of troops, almost proud of the pile of shit in front of him. "Now here's the best part, you're all off to Morwen VI for training!" A -very- audible moan swept through the crowd before a few bolt pistol shots brought it back to silence. That was last week.
<ColtGM> It's even colder now, no atmosphere and all here on Morwen. You find yourselves in one of many processing camps on the planet, complete with its own little prefab HQ, Medicae building, and a very unhappy looking Commissar.
<ColtGM> A very bored looking junior Commissar has already pointed you and your squadmates down one of the many rows of tents, saying you are to set up at position number 85937. You just passed number 85924.
<ColtGM> BEGIN RP
<Titus> "Let's haul ass, fellas. I'm tired."
* Lance looks Titus up and down slowly, "What?! I am stuck with this guy?"
<Titus> "Deal with it, fella. Get that tent knocked up before I knock you out."
* Lance grunts, glares at Titus and walks past him towards position 85924.
<Titus> "Haha, that's right."
<Titus> "Say, Lance, whatever happened to that wench on the station?"
<Lance> "Don't ask, don't tell."
<Titus> "Primarch's blood, she didn't. Or rather, he didn't."
<ColtGM> A few of the troopers setting up tents nearby chuckle as they hear your conversation
<Lance> "Lets just pray I don't return there and find I have to feed some ugly kids"
<Lance> "Thats all I am saying"
<Titus> "Haha, and here I was expecting worse."
<Titus> "Now be a good fella and get that tent up. The vox box is starting to chafe."
* Varity is now known as Lyra
<Lance> "Yeah. It maybe grandkids if I don't get back for a while."
* Lance nods in agreement and starts to unpack the tent.
<Lance> "Gonna put down that damned caster and give me a hand?"
<Titus> "Alright, alright. Don't get your void cup in a twist."
<Lance> "Hope I don't either way. I enjoy breathing"
<ColtGM> The tent seems to want to set itself up quite perfectly... Until Titus screws it up.
<Titus> "Woopsies."
<Titus> "Be a dear and get that fixed, eh?"
<Lance> "Cmon' man! The commisar wil be along for inspection soon! Don't muck about!"
* Lance attempts to fix the issue with haste.
<Titus> "Blessed Emprah, where's Lyra when you need a hand?"
* Lyra meanders out of the plot, "Have you managed to get yourself devoured by your own camping gear, again?"
<ColtGM> Titus seems more a hinderance than a helper, but you get the tent set up. Or is that pole supposed to go on the other side?
<Lance> "He has indeed. Give us a hand quick smart."
<Titus> "Well uh, we'll have to make do if the Commissar 'imself got gripes."
* Lyra sighs, and promptly moves to aid in extraditing people from the vicious tent beast.
<ColtGM> Speaking of Commissars... You hear some heated shouting a few rows over. Thankfully it isn't followed by a bolt pistol shot.
<Lance> "That being said I am quite tempted to leave you to it your self now."
<ColtGM> No, no. The tent is set up correctly now!! Well, to your knowlege.
<Titus> "There you go!"
<ColtGM> That fellow earlier mentioned something about a kit inspection... Oh, what was it?
* Lyra stands back from the masterpiece of a tent. Yes, truly perfect. Well, as perfect as one can expect anything in the Guard to be.
<Titus> "Erf. Primarch's soul, I can't for the love of me remember what it was..."
* Titus shrugs.
<Titus> "Probably not important."
* Lance sits down at the enterence flap to the tent and pulls out his Las Pistol and a rag, and proceedes to spit shine it. "Just gotta wait for the commisar now."
<Titus> "Now, Lyra, my sweet, how about we lay together tonight, for warmth?"
<Lyra> "Did you forget your bedroll? The Commissar will probably save you the discomfort by way of a Bolt shell, if you did."
<ColtGM> Someone is walking down your row now... They look mad.
* Titus shouts aloud.
<Titus> "That's what it was!"
<Lyra> "We're supposed to have everything set up and cleaned and ready for an inspection. That means your vox, and the bedrolls."
<Lance> "Oh boy oh boy. Looks a bit late now Titus. Here he comes."
* Titus groans.
* Lyra promptly draws out her Long Las and looks busy maintaining it!
<Titus> "This doesn't bode well..."
* Titus fumbles quickly with his pack before throwing his hands up in the air. He sighs disgustedly.
<Lance> "For you anyway."
* Lyra *told* them to set up the vox! Geeze!
* Arngrahm (Goddammit@sux-EEBDF32A.jax.bellsouth.net) has joined #guardgamelol
<Lance> "Lyra's right Titty. Better set up that box of yours."
<ColtGM> He stops to yell at some troopers before continuing your way. As he gets closer, you realize it's the same junior Commissar from earlier.
<Titus> "Emperor's ghost, here he comes!"
<Lance> "Set up that box man! You're the com guy!"
* Lance puts the rag away and pistol back in his holdster and stands to attention.
* Lyra slings the Long Las and does the same, when the Commissar is close enough.
* Lance whispers down to Titus, "And be quick about it."
* Titus fumbles with his gear. He sighs.
* Lyra slips over to the tent and lays out the bedrolls. As neatly and fancily as possible.
* Titus mutters under his breath as he fumbles with his vox.
* Lance sighs and gets down to help Titus with the dammed vox caster.
<Lance> "If I get done up for this...."
<ColtGM> Mr Junior Commissar is yelling his head off at another squad a ways off. You hear something about their tent being inside out and their lack of a vox.
* Lyra tidies up the tent and sets the appropriate gear out.
* Titus curses loudly under his breath.
<Titus> "There!"
<Lance> "Good! Get up! Stand to attention everyone lets look good."
* Lance returns to his previous place at the door of the tent, chin up, looking proud to serve his Emperor.
* Titus snaps to attention with his lasrifle.
<Titus> "Come on, fellas, you're making us look bad!"
* Lyra finishes everything, presumably, and goes back to standing, as well.
<ColtGM> Junior Commissar... What was his name? Is walking down the line, pausing to yell at other squads before finally reaching position 85937
<Lance> "Sir."
<Titus> "Sir."
* Lance salutes the Jr Commisar.
* Arngrahm is now known as Laeter
* Lyra snaps to attention and salutes, as well!
<Lance> "I trust everything is to your liking, Junior Commissar Sigismund?"
<Titus> "Er, yeah, Junior Commissar Sigismund."
* Titus nudges Lyra in the ribs.
* Titus also salutes, rather belatedly.
* Lance continues his stony faced look fowards, ignoring the other squad mates who are just asking for a bolter shot to the brainpan.
<ColtGM> He's obviously surprised someone was smart enough to remember his name. He grunts acknowlegement and looks over the laid out gear and weapons, checking the Vox's channel and looking into the tent for a moment.
* Lyra is nudged in the ribs, but holds the salute.
* Lyra made that tent nice and clean! Provided it's set up right, at least.
* Titus grumbles to Lance's direction. "Unlikeable git."
<ColtGM> Sigismund is impressed that this tent is set up, let alone facing the correct direction and -not- inside out. Still, he can't make them think they're good at anything so his expression is grim as he writes on a dataslate before moving on.
* Lyra holds the salute as he walks away. Expecting him to whirl around and exclaim that they were not dismissed or put at ease, yet! As some kind of surprise evaluation.
* Lance waits till the commisar has moved down another tent or 2 before breaking his stance. "He was wasn't he. Still better to say on his good side rather then his firing side."
* Titus smacks the back of Lance's head.
<Titus> "I meant you, ya git."
<Titus> "Looking all prissy and neat for your darling commissar, aren't we?"
<Lance> "Better then looking untidy and stupid right? A commissar is a commissar."
* Titus sighs.
<Titus> "I suppose you're right. Git."
<Lyra> "I guess everything was set up well. At least, well enough not to get yelled at. And, you know what they say about only needing to do better than the worst person to survive."
* Titus rubs his stomach.
<Titus> "I'm starving, mates."
<Lance> "Well I dono about you guys. But I am starving. I could eat a grox at this rate."
<Lance> "Whats say we head to the mess tent?"
<ColtGM> The smell of delicious, delicious Guard food wafts over your tent from the nearby mess hall.
<Lance> "TO THE MESS TENT FELLOWS!"
* Titus half vomits over the smell.
<ColtGM> Delicious of course being what the Commissars told you it would tast like.
<Titus> "We'll have to make do, I suppose."
<Lyra> "For once, I think we can all agree on something, then."
* Lance heads off towards the tent with the squad.
* Lyra plods off with! Deliberately leaving weapons behind.
<ColtGM> After sulking through the rather long line, you all end up with... Tolerable food! The cooks seemed to have actually made an effort for it to taste like real food!
* Lance still has his Las Pistol straped to his hip.
* Titus 's stomach groand loudly.
<Lance> "Should we say a prayer to the Emperor first?"
<ColtGM> There's a commotion about 20m behind you.
<ColtGM> Lance and Lyra see that the same junior Commissar from earlier is arguing with another junior. Titus is too busy stuffing his face to pay attention.
* Lance ignores it and makes a short prayer to the Emperor over his plate of.... whatever.
* Titus lets out a small burp.
* Lyra keeps an eye on the squabble, attempting to discern what they are arguing about, if possible.
<Titus> "Well, it's palatable, at least."
<ColtGM> Sigismund looks pretty pissed, and is easily heard. "What do you bloody mean the cooks served the grunts the Lord Commissars food?!"
<Lance> "Tastes like real food. Kinda of."
* Lyra decides this is just fine, and goes back to devour the food. It has a semblance of actual taste!
* Lance glances at the other 2. "Oh Throne."
* Titus grunts. "What?"
<ColtGM> The obviously most junior of juniors Commissar looks especially freaked out "I didn't- But the-." After a few moments Sigismund drags him away. A gunshot is heard shortly after.
<Lance> "Didn't you just hear Sigismund?"
<Titus> "Officer chatter, mate. Better not to hear. You'll live longer."
<Lance> "Or live longer for hearing it. Better eat up fast before he comes in again."
* Lyra mentally salutes the men who died to provide them with this food.
* Lance eats as fast as he can, making sure the plate is clear as possiable.
<Titus> "Now that's a sentiment I can get behind."
* Titus resumes shovelling food down his gullet.
<ColtGM> It begins raining outside.
<Titus> "Thrice-blasted hell. What a mess."
* Titus spits out his food.
<Titus> "The weapons!"
<Titus> "They're outside, quick, fellas!"
* Titus runs to the mouth of the tent.
<Lance> "Wonder if we can get seconds?"
* Lance looks around oblivious to Titus panicked rush out the mess hall.
* Lyra notes Titus seems to have dutifully taken the task of securing the tent and weapons to himself.
* Lyra enjoys food and dry mess hall.
<Lance> "Where did he just run off too?"
<Lyra> "I think he left his weapons outside."
<Lyra> "Or, that could just be because he specifically said he left his weapons outside."
<Lance> "Really? That guy is going to get us killed."
* Titus slogs through the quickly forming mud and puts away the weapons. Grumbling, he makes off to secure the tent as well.
<Titus> With a quickly muttered curse, Titus also sets aside the vox.
<Lance> "You did put yours away in the tent with your pack didn't you?"
* Titus returns and slaps the back of Lance's head.
<Titus> "Save any more grub for me?"
<Lance> "I havent even gotten my seconds yet!
<Lyra> "Yep. Doesn't matter that much, though. The Commissar already inspected them and they're durable enough to survive the rain."
<Titus> "And I'll have you know, I put away your lasrifle as well. Silly git."
* Lyra taps the fork or other generic grimdark eating utensil, "I think the vox might eat it, though."
* Titus shouts a curse and looks at his muddy boots and shins.
<Titus> "Well, can't complain. Still alive, aren't I?"
<Lance> "Thanks for that then. I guess I'll get you seconds as well then."
* Lance grabs Titus's plate and his own and goes to see about another helping.
<Lyra> "For now."
* Titus lets out a chuckle and smiles.
<Titus> "Good for something, after all."
<Titus> "We'll see if that big head of yours keeps us alive on the field, Lance. Now, Lyra, how about a kiss full of that rather delectable meat pie?"
<Lyra> "You'd have to ask the cooks. You might even not get shot by the Commissar for devouring his food."
* Titus lets out a grimace.
* Lance retuns with the plates. Each having a smaller helping then before and the muck looking slightly greyer then the previous muck.
<Lance> "This is all they said we could get."
<Lance> "It looks a bit different.
* Titus sighs, then digs in.
<Titus> "Wh-wha."
<ColtGM> Is this mud?
<Titus> "This is definitely mud."
<Lance> No. Its slightly greyer muck then the stuff we had before,
<ColtGM> No... Maybe not. It sort of tasted like ... Yeah, it tastes like mud.
<Lyra> "It's *nutritious* mud."
<Titus> "Mud, with an aftertaste of more mud."
<Lance> "I swear its not mud mate."
* Lance takes a mouthful as well.
<ColtGM> It -could- be food.
* Lance chokes on the stuff and forces him self to get it down. "Ok maybe it is."
* Titus pats Lance's back.
<Titus> "Easy, guardsman."
<Titus> "Here, have some of mine."
* Titus pushes the plate in Lance's direction.
<Lance> "More mud? You shouldn't have."
* Lance attempts to finish what is on his plate. Not wanting to cop the ire of any officers. Waste not, want not.
<Lyra> "He's making up for leaving the Vox caster out in the rain to be ruined."
* Titus casts a sidelong glance at the commissariat table, before dumping the leftovers onto the mud.
<ColtGM> It blends in perfectly!
<ColtGM> A klaxon! Everyone is getting up!
<Titus> "Note the exquisite colours of the sample."
<Titus> "Abbadon's filth, what was that?"
* Lance gets up and starts following the others in the tent. "Lets go guys, call for prade."
<ColtGM> A group of oh-so-nice Commissars starts ushering everyone out of the mess tent. "Back to your tents!"
* Lyra hops up! And heads back to the tent.
* Lance heads after Lyra.
* Titus tags along behind.
<ColtGM> Announcements over the camp loudhailers! "Companies A-C report to the range. Companies D-I report to the parade ground. All other companies rally in your camps."
<Lance> "Man now I am going to have to clean these boots. AGAIN!"
<Lance> "Ahhh guys. What company are we agian?"
<Lance> "Guys?"
* Lance gives up and heads towards the tent to grab his rifle, and then onwards to the range.
* Titus makes for his rifle and vox set.
<Titus> "Ergh... I think it was... Uh..."
* Lyra checks her uniform for a company and unit number/designation.
<Lyra> "We're in *B* Company, you dolts. To the firing range."
* Lance stops and looks at Lyra. "Despite the fact that is like looking at your underwear for your name. THAT IS AN EXCELENT IDEA!:
* Lyra grabs her weapons from the camp and scurries off to the range!
<Titus> "Well, uh.."
* Titus runs off towards Lyra.
<Lance> "Yeah..."
* Lance procedes as before.
<ColtGM> Seems like you found the range. Well, there are a bunch of targets lined up and you see other Guardsman shooting at them.
* Lance heads for the nearest officer to report for training.
* Titus shuffles his feet and waits for the news.
* Lance salutes the officer. "Squad reporting in for rifle training sir!"
<ColtGM> The officer glances at Lance's unit badge and checks his data slate. "Range Primaris 10. Junior Commissar Sigismund is the officer in charge."
* Lance tries not to look worried and salutes again. "Thank you sir!"
* Lance turns back to the squad. "Range 10. We got Sigismund agian."
* Lyra follows after Lance.
<Lyra> "Fantastic." The sarcasm drips.
<Titus> "Hup to it, fellas."
* Lance moves towards Sigismund and presents the squad. "Reporting in sir. Ready, willing and able."
<ColtGM> Sigismund points Lance to the right hand lane, Titus to the center lane, and Lyra to the lefthand lane.
* Lyra swiftly moves to the lefthand lane!
* Titus salutes and steps to his position.
* Lance moves out.
<ColtGM> Sigismind motions to the targets as he speaks "Aim for the red target, it is at 50 meters. You have three shots, you must make two of those three. Understood?"
<Lance> "Yes sir! We won't let you down!"
* Titus salutes.
* Titus goes prone and aims.
* Lyra also takes aim!
<ColtGM> "Note that there is a short sandbag wall in front of you, it is there so you can rest your weapon for a steadied shot. You will likely have something similar in the field. Fire one shot each from right to left on my mark."
<ColtGM> "Mark!"
* Lyra fires off a shot at the target! Striking it handily!
<ColtGM> Sigismund bellows "WHAT ARE YOU DOING GUARDSMAN?!" and approaches the overeager sniper
<Lyra> "Grit in the trigger, sir. Our vox operator left the weapons out in the rain."
<ColtGM> However, he notices that she hit the target... dead center.
* Lyra goes to tinker with the gun.
* Titus has quit (Ping timeout)
* Lance lets off a single, cool shot at the target, striking it flawlessly. This time.
<ColtGM> Sigismund decides to let it slide... This time. This was the bunch with the perfect tent setup earlier, after all. Seems like they can handle weapons, too.
<ColtGM> Satisfied with three solid hits, Sigismund signals for them to fire again.
* Lyra waits for the other two to shoot!
* Lance fires off another shot, this time his aim not being so swell. He just manges to clip the shoulder of the dummy.
<ColtGM> Sigismund frowns slightly, chocking up that guardsman's first hit to luck.
<ColtGM> Titus fires and hit the target in the chest!
* Lyra takes aim and fires another pretty good shot!
* Lance cracks off his last shot, carefully aimed and puts a clean hole through its right arm.
<ColtGM> Titus sneezes and overshoots the target a bit. Sigismund isn
<ColtGM> 't concerned since Titus already got his 2/3
* Lyra fires off another shot, and strikes true!
<ColtGM> Sigismund looks satisfied. "Now, fire at the blue targets. Range of one hundred meters. Fire at will, three shots."
* Lyra takes aim at the blue targets, one doesn't snipe without doing so, after all.
* Lance takes aim. Holding his breath for his first shot.
* Lyra fires off another shot at the blue targets, and hits handily. Not too hard!
* Lance fires and over shoots his target. Dammit!
* Lyra takes steady aim and fires off a similar shot, striking the target neatly, again. Woo!
* Lance makes a quick adjustment to his sights for the extended range, which he stupidly didn't do for the first shot, and fire again. Another solid hit to the arm.
* Lance again missies his last shot by over shoot. DANG!
* Lyra takes aim and fires off another accurate shot!
* Lance coughs loud enough for Lyra to hear, "Showoff"
* Lyra just smirks.
* Lance prays to the Emperor. "Don't let him shoot me, don't let him shoot me."
<ColtGM> Sigismund jots down a few notes on his dataslate before indicating a very distance yellow target at 450m. "Guardsman Sniper, fire upon the yellow target twice"
* Lyra takes aim on the yellow Target!
* Lyra snaps out another shot, and strikes the distant yellow target dead in the head.
* Lyra is now known as Varity
<ColtGM> After not being executed you go back to your tent and sleep!