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The majority will be riflemen, when you consider half the squad will be comrades.
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Jul 13, 2014 05:01
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Fair enough. Kinda forgot to consider the comrades as well. Though mechanically, they do little to no damage on their own (unless buffed with Get Them! Holy poo poo +4 damage when you make them help you fire is great) unless you plan to make them have a bit more oomph.
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Jul 13, 2014 06:01
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Lateinshowing posted:Fair enough. Kinda forgot to consider the comrades as well. Though mechanically, they do little to no damage on their own (unless buffed with Get Them! Holy poo poo +4 damage when you make them help you fire is great) unless you plan to make them have a bit more oomph. Yes and no-Comrades don't do any damage on paper, but that's because the damage they do is abstracted into the damage the PC is doing. Every time your Comrade gives you a +5 to your BS roll, that's can easily be abstracted as your Comrade hitting and doing damage as opposed to the PC scoring the hit. Likewise, with the numerous Comrade advances available for the various classes, it's easy for Comrades to not do any damage directly but provide vital support to the heavy hitters of the squad, such as performing the Heavy Gunner's Stabilize action. In a way, it's pretty similar to an actual fight-much of the time, a decent number of a squad's soldiers aren't actually going to be aiming and firing at the enemy, but performing tasks such as fire suppression, assisting the squad's commander or machine-gunners, or a number of other actions that doesn't directly translate to "Putting lead downrange". OW is a neat system, in that regard. Also, in the event that Malicious Onion accepted all applicants into the game, as of now the current "Squad" composition right now is: 2 Sergeants 1 Heavy Gunner 2 Operators 1 Medic 5 Weapon Specialists Which would actually sort pretty easily into two distinct squads. Heck, add an extra HG and Medic and we'd be set for a platoon!
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Jul 13, 2014 06:18
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I'm sure when my medic bites the dust early on we'll get a better one. Minimum wounds roll -1 was galling.
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Jul 13, 2014 08:00
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Picture and background to follow.pre:Career: Heavy Gunner Aptitudes: Ballistic Skill, Defence, Fellowship, Offence, Perception, Toughness, Agility Demeanour: Joker Characteristics: WS: 31 (20 + 11) BS: 35 (20 + 15) S: 33 (20 + 13) T: 32 (20 + 10) [+5 Speciality] [-3 Regiment] Ag: 31 (20 + 5) [+3 regiment] [+3 homeworld] Int: 27 (20 + 4) [+3 homeworld] Per: 30 (20 + 10) WP: 32 (20 + 12) Fel: 31 (20 + 11) Wounds 12 (10 + 3 -1) Fate: 1/1 (6) IP: 0 CP: 0 Skills: Common Lore (Imperial Guard, Imperium, War, Adeptus Arbites) Intimidate Navigate (Surface) Linguistics (Low Gothic) Survival Trade (Chymist) Talents: Iron Jaw Weapon Training (Las) Weapon Training (Heavy) Weapon Training (Low-tech) Weapon Training (Solid) Unremarkable Traits: Accustomed to Crowds Second Rate Conscription Gear: Common Craftsmanship heavy stubber Lascarbine and 4 charge packs 2 frag grenades 2 smoke grenades Flak vest and helmet XP (550/600): Loader (250) Stabilise (300) pre:Comrade Name: Teodor Demeanour: Loose Cannon Wounds Fate Points
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Jul 13, 2014 08:48
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I'd like to submit something this evening, after the world cup game.
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Jul 13, 2014 14:26
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By the Throne, you cocksuckers might actually have some brain cells after all. Yes, if any of you had taken the time to look out a window lately, you'd have noticed we're in the middle of a big loving desert. Congratulations, you've demonstrated the ability to answer questions. Don't let the rush of accomplishment go to your head. The Survivalist special ability applies to desert. I'll post a proper write-up of New Sedna shortly, after which you'll have a brief period to amend your sheets and backgrounds, then I'll make picks.
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Jul 13, 2014 15:00
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Hyannis Learen Hyannis' family was devout. His family had all been raised with the expectation that a life was only meaningful if it service to the Emperor. A life only had meaning if one died in service to the Emperor. This sort of attitude was needed and generally encouraged by the local authorities in low caste neighborhoods to try and prevent riots and unrest when water was scarce or the warp storms started. At the age of 5 he was given over, happily, to the service of the Ecclesiarchy for training to become an acolyte and later a priest in His Majesty's Holy Church. While most would have seen this as a chance to escape Lowtown, Hyannis saw it as a holy calling. He worked dilligently on his education, reveling in the subjects related to the natural world and the human body. His efforts did not go unnoticed and he was made a junior priest by the time his mandatory enlistment. When the time came for his mandatory service in the PDF, he fully expected to be placed in a chapel at whichever base he was assigned. However, he was not. His orders came and listed him as HYANNIS LEAREN: MEDICAE. Surprising as it was, it later became apparent that few of the low caste recruits (which mysteriously seemed to be a disproportional amount of the new recruits) had any significant education beyond how to operate machines and read warning signs. Hyannis decided he would have to do his best with his theoretical knowledge of surgery and first aid when it came time to do the practical bits. pre:Name: Hyannis Learen Specialization: Medic Comrade: Characteristics: WS: 30 BS: 30 S: 30 T: 30 (33 – 3 Regiment Type) Ag: 44 (38 + 3 Regiment + 3 Regiment Type) Int: 51 (38 + 5 Specialty + 3 Regiment + 5) Per: 31 WP: 30 Fel: 29 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4569566/ Wounds: 12/12 http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4569570/ Fate: 1 IP: CP: Aptitudes: Agility Ballistic Skill Fieldcraft Intelligence Knowledge Perception Willpower Skills: Common Lore (Ecclesiarchy, Imperium) Linguistics (Low Gothic) Medicae +10 Navigate (Surface) Scholastic Lore (Chymistry) Scrutiny Technical Knock Trade (Chymist) Stealth Talents: Jaded Sprint Weapon Training (Las, Low Tech) Traits: Accustomed to Crowds Gear: Lasgun Flak Vest/Helmet Frag Grenade (2) Smoke Grenade (2) Diagnostor Injector Medikit Advances: 550/600 -Intelligence +5 250 -Medicae +10 200 -Stealth 100 Olanphonia fucked around with this message at 14:57 on Jul 17, 2014 |
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Jul 14, 2014 02:08
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 PDF Trooper Falcone's brother; Guardsman Falcone's final moments Trooper Falcone came from a long line of Falcones who worked in Manufactorum Sigma Primaris here, small compared to the Manufactorum Alpha Primaris which was a massive complex dedicated to producing stationary for the Administratum. They handled production of military goods to supply the local PDF. His granddaddy was a foreman here, his daddy was the foreman, and pretty soon he was in line to be the foreman. Falcones and the machine cult have had a history together for a millenia here. Not every falcone was a cog worshipping son of a gun but they always had an uncanny eye for detail. If some new techpriest intiate did some work that was suspect, the Magos wouldn't tell him poo poo. He'd just drag that techpriest down to the Manufactorum and call out "FALCONE!" I mean sure there were others who bore our last name but everyone know who he was asking for. In comes a technomat whose been working there for maybe 6 months or a year, looks over some replacements parts for a chimera, takes a sniff, and tells the Magos they forgot to put sacred ungluents on it and there was rust in between the teeth of the cogs or what have you. Then he went back to work not thinking anything of it. That little show alone is enough to shame the techpriest into taking more care in his work. Though life in the Imperium is harsh, depressing, and unforgiving, it was looking up for Falcone. Until the draft notice game. It could have been worse, he could have been tithed to the Imperial Guard. Quite a few Falcones have been tithed but generally were protected from the tithe by their Adeptus Mechanicus masters. But a few have went nonetheless and were never heard from again. That family trait of good eyesight and dexterity made up for the general weakness most Falcones had since they weren't manual laborers, generally technomats or management. If the family could ever receive letters from the front, they'd know most of their sons and daughters who went to the guard made for excellent sharpshooters and scouts. Also the go to people when your lamppack or field stove isn't working. He got the PDF draft notice and life turned to poo poo for him. Ok at least he was home and got to go home, but they kinda poo poo on his chance to become part of the machine cult. No one got his jokes and the other guys seemed slower than molasses. He did enjoy the training, it made him feel like he was becoming a man or some poo poo. And he took to the lasgun like a fish to water, being one of the few conscripts who actually seemed to take in what the instructors were trying to beat into them in one month. Then he got to his PDF company and reality hit him hard. First off they gave him the loving flamethrower, what the gently caress! He was supposed to go to supplemental training to become a sniper or some poo poo, join the PDF's Grenadier section, also known as the only competent people in the whole regiment. What if they see combat and someone shoots the canister! The food sucked, the habblock's air conditioner leaked water for some reason and he couldn't figure out for the life of him why, it was either too cold or too hot. gently caress this place for real. That said Falcones take the hand they are dealt and make do. He's been keeping himself busy helping his squadmates with miscellaneous technical issues in exchange for tabasco to make his food edible and dodging the commissars. Hopefully he can get transferred to the Munitorum section so he can hang out in the armory and dodge this grunt business. Desert patrols are tiring and chafe him up all the time. Also they want him to walk everywhere with a ton of poo poo on his back, gently caress that! pre:Name: Falcone Specialization: Weapons Specialist Demeanour: Affable Comrade: Giuseppe Demeanour: Dreamer Characteristics: WS: 30 BS: 50 (40 + 5[Spec] + 5[Advances]) S: 28 (28) T: 25 (28 - 5[Regiment]) Ag: 40 (37 + 3[Regiment]) Int: 34 (31 + 3[Regiment]) Per: 30 WP: 30 Fel: 29 Characteristics Roll: 10#2d10+20 37 28 28 30 22 29 40 31 30 30 Wounds: 13 Fate: 2 IP: 0 CP: 0 Aptitudes: Agility Ballistic Skill Fellowship Fieldcraft Finesse Perception Weapon Skill Skills: Awareness Common Lore (Adeptus Mechanicus, Imperium, Imperial Guard, War) Dodge Linguistics (Low Gothic) Navigate (Surface) +10 Scrutiny Stealth Survival Trade (Technomat) Talents: Lasgun Barrage Heightened Senses (Sight) Sprint Weapon Training (Las, Low-Tech, Flame) Traits: Accustomed to Crowds Scavengers Survivalists (Desert) Gear: Lascarbine w/4 chargepacks Flamer w/3 canisters Flak Vest and Helmet 6 Frag Grenades 2 Smoke Grenades Advances: 600/600 Awareness (100) Dodge (200) Stealth (100) Scrutiny (100) Simple BS Advance (100) Viva Miriya fucked around with this message at 21:49 on Jul 14, 2014 |
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Jul 14, 2014 14:54
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 Shandra Cymbry As an off-world immigrant, Shandra was technically exempt from PDF service unless she changed her place of residence in administratum records from Minos to New Sedna. However, she'd known for a long time that when she grew up she wanted to be a clerk in the departmento munitorum, and the New Sedna department of the departmento had in their infinite wisdom instituted a policy of only considering applicants who had served either in the PDF, Imperial Guard, or Imperial Navy, as some sort of scheme to ensure the clerks were at least theoretically with the practical requirements of the military operations their task was to enable. Because of this requirement, Shandra signed up to be a proud new Sednan, and was swiftly packed off to defend her new homeworld. She wasn't particularly eager, being more into pencils than rifles, but it was a step forward. Shandra entered service together with a friend of hers, a medicae student named Tristan. Both were, to the surprise of neither, assigned into training as field medics. The surprise came further along, when Tristan was designated as Shandra's assistant rather than the other way around. Tristan, being an actual medical professional outside the PDF, was quite disappointed to be designated as an extra pair of hands for someone who was only assigned to the medical corps due to literacy. pre:Name: Shandra Cymbry Specialty: Medic Demeanour: Bureaucrat in making Comrade: Tristan Gilliam Demeanour: Disappointed, disillusioned BS:34=20+14 WS:30=20+10 S:30=20+10 T:30=20+13-3 Ag:36=20+13+3 Int:53=20+20+3+5+5 Per:32=20+12 Wp:35=20+15 Fel:39=20+16+3 Wounds: 9 Fate: 2 CP: IP: Aptitudes: Agility, Ballistic Skill, Fieldcraft, Intelligence, Knowledge, Perception, Willpower Skills: Navigate (Surface) Common Lore (Imperium, Adeptus Administratum) Trade (Copyist) Linquistics (Low Gothic) Medicae Scholastic Lore (Chymistry) Scrutiny Commerce Talents: Sprint Heightened Senses (Sight) Jaded Weapon Training (Las, Low-tech) Infused Knowledge Traits: Accustomed to crowds Second Rate Conscription Scavengers Poorly Provisioned Gear: Regimental Standard Kit Diagnostor Injector Medikit XP spent: Infused Knowledge -400 Commerce -100 Simple Intelligence -100
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Jul 15, 2014 02:59
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Recruitment has been put temporarily on hold while I deal with RL issues.
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Jul 16, 2014 23:13
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 New Sedna is an Imperial world dedicated to the printing and distribution of documents and texts for the Administratum and the general Imperium. The planet is mostly arid desert, which lends itself well to the printing trade, though makes for harsh living conditions otherwise. Toward the poles the terrain gives way to marshy swamps, their brackish waters teeming with biting insects.  Its capital and main center of civilisation is the twin city of Bythos and Aphros, each built into opposite sides of a canyon. Similarly, Sednite society is divided into Uppercaste and Lowercaste, with the Uppercaste consisting of noble houses and the governor, residing in Aphros, and the rest of the people living in the squalid conditions of Bythos. The noble houses, such as the House of Garamond and the House of Parkes, each control one of the lowercaste guilds - in this case, the Guild of Typesetters and the Guild of Conservators, respectively. Other notable guilds include the Pressers, Inkers, Binders, Illuminati, Rubricars and Proofreaders. The main spaceport lies just outside Aphros, through which all printing goods flow. While New Sedna is mainly controlled directly by the Administratum, there are of course strong factions from both the Mechanicus and Ministorum cults present. The Mechanicus oversee the maintenance of the vast printing presses, despite not operating the machines themselves. The Ministorum fulfil two roles: tending to the Sednite flock, and blessing the documents as required. A few of the larger Ministorum factions also maintain their own printing presses, for the production and distribution of their own internal documents. The illumination of these religious documents is renowned throughout the sector, and the priests occasionally perform commissions for the sector's most highly-regarded leaders. Despite enjoying great success through its high production standards, its history has been troubled, marked with rebellions and corruption. A high incidence of Warp storms in the surrounding void have been blamed, although these tempests have brought enough troubles of their own, shutting down trade routes and depriving the planet of essential supplies like paper, food and water. New Sedna has raised a number of Guard Regiments throughout its history, though its low population and lack of military tradition mean that its intakes are few and far between. This, coupled with the increased likelihood of being cut off from the rest of the sector by Warp storms, has led to mandatory conscription into the Planetary Defense Force. Despite this, the PDF are no different to many others: underfunded and undertrained. Thankfully, the average service in the New Sedna PDF is relatively unexciting. OK, if you want to amend your background to reflect your new planetary history, I'll give you some time to do so. If you want to expand on something in the above, you can either work something out with me or just make poo poo up. I've also noticed that not everyone has a background - IF YOU DON'T HAVE A BACKGROUND, YOU WON'T BE PICKED. This is also the last call for new submissions. MaliciousOnion fucked around with this message at 05:47 on Jul 18, 2014 |
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Jul 17, 2014 14:32
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Thanks MO, overhauled mine
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Jul 17, 2014 14:59
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Actually, I don't think I need to really make any changes to my background. We'll just say the very pitiful number of Guardsmen the planet raises usually includes folks from Fran's Family.
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Jul 18, 2014 03:26
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Eh, I think I'm gonna bow out to be honest. Give the others a chance, not to mention already being in one OW game.
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Jul 18, 2014 03:52
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OK you cockjockeys, congratulations on completing your basic training. You'll now be divided up into your squads, these men and women are your new family now. Squad is: Yelnats, S; Sergeant - Quornes Parsis, D; Medic - crowtribe Ouster, F; Heavy Gunner - Werix Livingstone, R; Weapons Specialist - John Dyne Falcone; Weapons Specialist - Mark Brouhard Grab your bags and head over to your bunkhouse. If you haven't been assigned a comrade yet, one will be provided for you. Duties start tomorrow. Post some impressions or whatever. MaliciousOnion fucked around with this message at 14:01 on Jul 19, 2014 |
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Jul 19, 2014 13:57
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Dear Father, I apologize for not writing you sooner; the PDF command refused to let us write until they were sure we could write. They tested this by having us complete an oral examination of basic facts about New Sedna. That is right, an oral civics exam to determine writing ability. The Guard this sure isn't. I have been assigned to be the squad support specialist. I am to carry the heavy stubber, with which I am to lay down suppression and focus fire at killzones. I am glad I have this role. The Support Specialist is often a high priority target; withstanding attack will prove that I am more than my disability. I have been assigned my squadmates. Our squad leader is a Stanley Yelnats. He is an old man, already graying at this point. He claims to have worked for the Administratum. As you and mother work there, could you check up on him and write me anything you've heard? I fear the man is no leader and has his position only because of his age; hearing from you that his co-workers say he is a good man to lead would ease my concerns. We also have two line men. The first is Reginald Livingston. He is an Ecclisiarchy man. He has proven a good shot with the lasgun, as well as a beautiful singer. He should be in a choir, not the PDF, and I am sure once his tour is done, he will do just that. The other lineman's name is Falcone. He's a sniveling grox-shite. He constantly whines about how he "should not be here" and "his mechanical talents are wasted here". He thinks himself too good for service; I fear the amount of effort he will put in if we ever see combat, even if it is only riot subjugation. Lastly is the medic. I save him for last as he is the most important. It is with the medic that I live or die. Sure he may have access to my medical dossier, but reading it on papers is nothing compared to hearing about it first hand. How at certain humidity and temperature levels (luckily very rare on our planet) it is guaranteed I will get a respiratory infection. How a bone break will take twice as long to heal. How an unclean wound can lead to severe septic infection, like at that nature camp when I was 11. But to the medic, he is kind of an rear end. He acts cold and uncaring, meaning he has the worst bedside manner ever. If anyone needs to be taken down a peg, it's him. Notice that I am the only woman in my squad. They mostly seem harmless, but don't tell mother that. She married into the Ouster family line, she doesn't understand that need to serve, and if she found out I was in an all male squad she'd likely freak out and demand I return home. Worry not, I'll always keep my knife close. I will come and visit the first time we get off base leave, though there is no telling when that will be. A hundred kisses to you and mom, Frannie.
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Jul 19, 2014 23:31
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Dear Diary, Its been a interesting time here. I've made a couple of friends, ok two and one is dearly departed. But everyone else seems content to leave me alone unless they need a hookup. Sergeant Yelnats is a decent leader. Word down the grapevine is he took the rap for his Son. He takes a bit of getting used to but he's a good guy. Reggy is a great duder, he's one of the other guys who underwent purification training, thats the flamethrower course. They found him better suit to carry a grenade launcher though, I guess thats why he got to carry it in his kit. Better him than me, that shits heavy. And by the Omnissiah he has such a wonderous voice and such a devoted man. Its kinda confusing when you start talking scripture to him but its giving me a new perspective on the universe and my place in it. Doc Parsis is decent, kinda quiet and shy but you get the feeling there's something in him thats solid like adamantium or something. I saw it when we were in recruit training, some guys apparently knew him from before this shindig and tried to give him the business. Boy he went off like a man possessed and beat the britches off the tallest one. Broke his hand punching his helmet though as the man was going down, broke it solid. poo poo was funny to watch. When the commissar came in he just smiled, sentenced them both to two days in the guard room cause we aren't allowed to fight each other here. I did see him on the final march in the desert before graduation with a plaster cast on, seemed he had something to prove. The guy who got knocked out was in me and Giuseppe's section asking if he was alright and trying to be all nice and poo poo. Punk! Giuseppe is alright, he thinks up some wild poo poo but its funny and it keeps us going and amused. When we were training he was telling us all about recruit heaven, a place where the emperor would see fit to reward us for dealing with all the commissars. There supposed to be a grox meat barbecue, lots of amasec, lhosticks, and a chocolate fountain. Course we never saw it but it sure kept me going! Also when dudes would falter during the marches, he would run up beside them and tell em about the fable about the magical titty oasis. See legend has it that in the deserts of New Sedna there's a sacred place of nymphs or sororitas sisters or whatever, the story changed each time. But if you kept marching and kept the faith in the desert, you'd arrive there and get to enjoy hours of bliss. We never found that either but after that story people would have to keep going. What, tittybits can't keep you going? Also he liked to fancy himself around the barracks as some sort of cowboy, which is why he had no problem carrying my lascarbine for me on marches. He promised to toss it back to me if he ever got bored of dualwielding them or if I needed to shoot something across the way. But then there was Fran, our machine gunner. See she's an Ouster, everyone knows about the Ousters. Boys and girls alike are hardasses and zealots. They always signed up for Guard duty and looked down on you if you weren't as faithful as them. Falcones and Ousters didn't get along, put simply. But man she's been up my rear end ever since I've arrived in the company. Like I know this poo poo ain't supposed to be easy but it makes me feel better to bitch about it from time to time. Not all the time because then you become just some bellyacher but most of the guys seem to appreciate it. Took the words out of they mouf said Jimmy from B Squad. She also doesn't like Giuseppe and thinks of him as a bit of a pig. But you can't please everyone. Man I sure wish Steven was still here. I don't know if I ever mentioned Steven in these here pages but man where do I start. Steven and I met in Instructor Mendez's riot suppression course . I’d like to say we became friends immediately but‚ actually‚ I thought Steven was quite the teacher’s pet so I ignored him. Of course‚ thаt studiousness and his ability to make friends with the “right” people is probably why Steven ended up being fast tracked to being commissioned as an officer. I came to appreciate Steven’s finer qualities and what I came to know eventually is that it was all real. Steven did not have an inauthentic bone in his body. Steven stood up for people. Something happened during the course that I will never forget and is a perfect example of the kind of person Steven was. We were hanging out in the rec center having some lhos and Steven looked deeply into my eyes and said he loved me. The next few weeks were wonderful‚ and Steven and I frolicked around the base‚ having the gay sex whenever we wanted. It was a magical time‚ it wаs the best of times. Sadly‚ on March 26th, 1972 hours Steven died in а car accident. I have never met anyone else like Steven throughout the course of my long-lived life. This is for you Steven‚ my love, my dаrling‚ my deаr. Viva Miriya fucked around with this message at 05:42 on Jul 20, 2014 |
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Jul 20, 2014 05:40
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Stan salutes sharply to the comissar, lowering his hand quickly when the man turns away, and then faces his new squad. The comissar killed too many young people during training for minor infractions, its a miracle that these got through it alive, praise the Emperor. At least the hard part is behind us now, right? Such are his thoughts as he looks over his men. Front and center, determined to do her parents proud stands Francine Ouster. She never really toughened up during training like the other guys did, but she up for it in effort. Maybe she'll live up to the Ouster family name, maybe she won't. But he's sure it won't be from a lack of trying. During training she showed aptitude for the heavy stuff, and is the squads heavy gunner. Next in line is Doren Paris, squad medic and one cold fish. Mostly kept to himself and didn't really make friends, though now he seems to be opening up a bit more. Stanley has seen a lot of kids like him, wondering what they're doing here. Poor guy should of been kept a desk jockey, but he's here now. At the very least the rest of the squad will try and keep him safe, if only so they have someone who can patch them up when the shooting starts. Still he should open up more or find out no ones willing to risk themselves to get him out of a pickle. And who's next but Reginald Livingston? Mans got quite possibly the most beautiful voice Stanley has ever heard. Devout too, and a family man to boot. Also one of the better shots in the squad, along with a grenade launcher that should come in handy. He's one of the ones Stanley wants to make sure makes it back safe and sound. The Emperor is sure to protect such a devout man. Stanley's lip twitches at his gaze settles next on Falcone. Sure, the man's the best shot in the squad, but he's also been a whiny bastard. As the training reached the end a caring man showed underneath the crusty exterior, but if he wasn't so good with that las carbine and handy with machinery Stanley wouldn't of bothered keeping him out of the comissars way. As it is Falcone won't know how close he came to a shot in the head. Long as he does what he needs to, keeps his man loving out of the comissars sight, and obeys orders he'll do just fine. He addresses the squad. "Right! Congrats boys and girl, we made it without getting shot! The hard part should be over for now, but don't slouch or do anything else to give those comissars an excuse to use their itchy trigger fingers. Now grab your junk and fall in! Those bunks won't fill themselves!" Quornes fucked around with this message at 05:35 on Jul 21, 2014 |
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Jul 20, 2014 06:34
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Doren looked around at the members of his new squad with unease. So far in training he'd had little to do with most of them, and he only had brief impressions of them from their time together. Ouster was one to keep an eye on certainly, head-strong and driven to prove herself at great risk. Doren was yet to see her individual medical profile, but in his newly trained medicae eyes, she seemed almost sickly. She would be worth keeping an eye on if at the very least if she were to fall prey to sickness or injury, the squad would find itself in deep trouble without her stubber and resolve. The sarge was a different case entirely - he seemed to be trying to be both a leader and a father, a shepherd for his new-found sons and daughters. Parsis just hoped that when the time came, Sgt. S. Yelnats could put aside the paternal instincts he held for the squad and make the tough calls and send his children to die. Falcone was a moaner, but a good guy under it all. He shouldered his load and sometimes the loads of others on the interminable manoeuvres, with a grin and a kind word always on his lips. Maybe a few more months in the Force would knock the shine out of him, but life was bearable with the kind man on your side. It was good to know the squad had the God Emperor's favour, borne in the guise of Reginald Livingston, the most devout man Parsis had come across. He'd been in Doren's basic training group, and lead the marching cadence , the sweet sound of his voice could be heard across the training grounds in the refrains of songs like "Glory Be to the Golden Emperor". He'd made the transition to the PDF regime that small bit easier upon them all, and was one of the few men Doren trusted and had opened up to more than any other. Doren turned the critical inspection upon himself. This was his new squad, his new family. While cold and shy he might be, he hoped, nay yearned, for their respect, and that they would all come to the realisation that their lives depended on the execution of his duty, and moreover, his theirs. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Rousing to the sound of the sergeant's voice, "Doc" Paris snapped a sharp salute. "Sir, yes sir, Sergeant!" Looping his lasgun over his arm by the strap, he shouldered his kitbag and jogged towards the barracks, his heavy boots tramping across the ferrocrete ground. crowtribe fucked around with this message at 02:57 on Jul 21, 2014 |
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Jul 20, 2014 07:42
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I like how everyone of you wrote about my guy being a whiny poo poo when I picked the demeanour that's literally goody twoshoes helpful guy. Like I'm not even mad about it I just find it funny as gently caress how these impressions turned out. quote:Affable: Ever willing to offer a hand to even the surliest of his squad mates, this character makes a point of trying This clearly means my guy shirks his duties when all he tries to shirk is the commissar's bolt pistols' loving embrace! Probably by working hard! 
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Jul 20, 2014 14:45
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http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3652003
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Jul 20, 2014 16:03
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I unfucked my post just for you 
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Jul 21, 2014 02:58
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crowtribe posted:I unfucked my post just for you thank you
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Jul 21, 2014 04:53
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