WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

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Ongoing
Watchers
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It is the 42nd Millennium.

For more than a hundred centuries, the God Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on his throne - carrion lord of earth, sustained by the worship of a billion billion souls.

That light had gone out.

The Astronomicon has dimmed to a guttering ember, sputtering in the night. The Imperium is riven by a vast warp storm - the Cicatrix Maledictum - and hope seems lost. It is the darkest of days. It is the end times.

You are an Imperial Guardsman on the world of Cathexias II.

And in 32 hours, you are going to die.

---
Lets get some grimdark in this grimdark! This is a 40k quest, using the Only War rules set! Write ins are allowed! There may be sex scenes, who knows. I kinda doubt it, but who knows!

Lets go!
IA! IA! SHE IS COME! PRAISE THE FIRST TWILIGHT!
FORTY ONE TWENTY TWO
First Natural Magos, the Golden Chemist, Mistress of Gravitics, Herald of the Thousand Starred Sky, Warptamer

ESSENCE: *
XP TO ESSENCE **: 24/50

ATTRIBUTES
Strength​
Dexterity​
Stamina​
Perception​
Intelligence​
Wits​
Appearance​
Charisma​
Manipulation​
***​
*****​
*​
***​
*****​
***​
*****​
*​
*​

ABILITIES
FAVORED/CASTE?​
ABILITY​
LEVEL​
FAVORED/CASTE?​
ABILITY​
LEVEL​
NOT​
Archery​
*​
FAVORED​
Melee (Lens Lance)​
*****(*)​
FAVORED​
Athletics
**​
CASTE​
Occult​
***​
FAVORED​
Awareness (Join Battle)
***(*)​
NOT​
Performance​
-​
NOT​
Brawl​
-​
FAVORED​
Presence​
*****​
CASTE​
Bureaucracy
-​
NOT​
Resistance​
-​
NOT​
Dodge​
***​
FAVORED​
Ride (Gita)
****(*)​
CASTE​
Integrity
**​
NOT​
Stealth​
-​
NOT​
Investigation
-​
NOT​
Sail​
-​
NOT​
Larceny​
-
NOT​
Socialize​
-​
NOT​
Linguistics
*​
NOT​
Larceny​
-​
CASTE​
Lore
****​
NOT​
Survival​
-​
CASTE​
Medicine
****​
NOT​
Thrown​
-​
-​
-​
-​
NOT​
War
-​
SUPERNAL CRAFT FOCUSES
CRAFT: Chemistry
*****​
CRAFT: Armorer
***​
CRAFT: Artifacts
*****​
CRAFT: ???
-​

MERITS
ARTIFACT (*****) - THE LENS LANCE
DESCRIPTION: Forged in a heartbeat, lurking within the machine for ten thousand years, the fury and spirit of a barely tamed gravitic imploder lance - long mistaken for and used as an agrav system aboard an orbital habitat - has been once more aroused to the glory of battle. Though her functions are as of yet locked behind codewalls and mystery, she remains a terrifying weapon in the hands of a skilled warrior. Her legend will burn across the galaxy.

FAMILIAR (**) - GITTA, THE EVER LOYAL
DESCRIPTION: They say the Kriegers pour their hearts into their horses - but beyond their world, none know their mounts as anything but numbers on an Administratum file. Gitta will change that. Ia! Ia! Praise her! Praise Sainted Gitta, The Ever Loyal! Ia! Ia!

TEMPERED BY THE ELEMENTS (**) - DAUGHTER OF VATS, BORN OF WAR
DESCRIPTION: Though fading into seeming insignificance in the glorious dawn of a new age, the first Twilight to walk the galaxy since the fading of the Age of Sorrows was inured to the chaos of a modern battlefield, moving across it as swiftly as open ground.

SELECTIVE CONCEPTION (*) - SUBDERMAL IMPLANT IN THE THIGH
DESCRIPTION: ...this is actually just standard issue for Imperial Guardsmen from any world with a Magos Biologis on it.​

LANGUAGES (*)
DESCRIPTION: You can speak the ancient tongue of The Old Realm!

INTIMACIES










Defining: The Galaxy is a Body, I will Heal it (Positive)
Major: Kit (Confused Attraction), Chaos (Hatred), Gitta (Love)
Minor: Technology (fascination), Xenos (Fear)

CHARMS















IN SUMMATION: Genuis flows, unabated, through the mind of the First Twilight. She is able to hold multiple projects in mind at once, easier than any mortal, while also shifting her focuses - despite not being trained in the crafting of explosives or metallurgy, she could shift her ability to create medical chemicals into that with some effort. She is able to inspire herself to construct even mighty artifacts swifter than any mortal, so long as she crafts projects that aid and help her allies and friends. She can complete mundane and even complex tasks - building a rifle, a suit of armor, or a small vehicle - in literal seconds using nothing but the raw materials and her bare hands. Raw excellence overflows in all her favored and caste abilities, bolstering their dicepools if required.
Excellent SOLAR Ability
Cost: 1m per Die | Type: Supplemental
Keywords: None | Duration: Instant
Effect: Adds +1 dice to your dice pool, up to your normal charm limits. You have this ability for any ability that is either CASTE, FAVORED, or has a SINGLE CHARM from it.

TIRELESS WORKHROSE METHOD
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keyword: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: Gain +2 Major slots per Essence.

EFFICENT CRAFTSMAN TECHNIQUE
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keyword: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: You may buy new Major slots for 3 SXP rather than 5.

ARETE SHIFTING PRANA
Cost: 4m, 1sxp, 1wp | Type: Simple
Keywords: None | Duration: Instant
Effect: Roll Int+Craft, convert 1 dot of a Craft skill into a different but related Craft skill - nearly impossible rationales can be allowed with a sufficiently good explanation. These dots last for one minor or major project.

SUPREME CELESTIAL FOCUS
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keywords: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: You may expend GXP to buy Craft skills, up to a number of times equal to [Essence]. Any past that cost x2 GXP.

SUBLIME TRANSFERRENCE
Cost: 6m | Type: Simple
Keyword: Mute | Duration: Instant
Effect: By meditating for five minuets, you may arrange your crafting XP at a 2 to 1 ratio up each level: 2 silver becomes 1 gold, 2 gold becomes 1 white, and the reverse. You may use this while unconscious or asleep.

AGES ECHOING WISDOM
Cost: - | Type: Permeant
Keyword: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: At the beginning of each Story (every 20 updates), gain GXP equal to your permanent Major Project Slots. For free!

BRASS SCALES FALLING - REPURCHASED
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keyword: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: For each 10 rolled on a craft roll without an Excellency, gain 1 SXP up to [Essence x3].

RED ANVILS RISING
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keyword: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: You gain +1 SXP per each basic objective.

CHAINS FALL AWAY
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keywords: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: You gain 1 GXP if you complete all three basic objectives on a craft project.

CRAFTSMEN NEED NO TOOLS
Cost: 6m | Type: Simple
Keyword: Mute | Duration: One Task
Effect: You may complete a Basic or Major Project (either crafting or repairing) within seconds, using naught but your bare hands and sheer creative will.

THOUSAND-FORGE HAND
Cost: 10m, 1wp | Type: Reflexive
Keyword: None | Duration: Instant
Effect: Reduce artifact crafting time to (6-Essence) weeks for 1-4 dot artifacts, (6-Essence) months for 5+ dot artifacts.

PEERLESS PERFECTION OF CRAFT
Cost: - | Type: Permanent
Keyword: None | Duration: Permanent
Effect: At the end of each story (every 20 updates), roll a free full Intelligence+Craft+Full Excellency dice pool. Every success is 1 SXP, and every 10 is 1 GXP.

FLAWLESS HANDIWORK METHOD - REPURCHASED
Cost: 6m | Type: Supplemental
Keywords: None | Duration: Instant
Effect: Re-roll 10s until 10s fail to appear, counting each as a success. Re-roll 6s until 6s fail to appear.

SUPREME MASTERWORK FOCUS
Cost: 6m | Type: Supplemental
Keywords: None | Duration: Instant
Effect: Supplements any Craft roll for Major or Minor projects with Double 9s. Can be improved further with later Charm Purchases.

EXPERIENTIAL CONJURING OF THE VOID
Cost: 4m, 4s/g/wxp | Type: Reflexive
Keyword: Salient | Duration: Instant
Effect: Can be used after a Craft roll, and adds +1 non-charm success, +[Essence] non-Charm dice. Cannot be used on basic projects.

UNBROKEN IMAGE FOCUS
Cost: 3m+1s/g/wxp | Type: Reflexive
Keyword: Salient | Duration: Instant
Effect: After making a Craft roll, you may purchase non-charm successes up to the number of successes rolled + your [Essence]. These do not count double successes for the purposes of how many successes you can buy.

SEASONED BEAST-RIDER APPROACH
Cost: 1m, 1wp | Type: Supplemental
Keywords: None | Duration: Instant
Effect: Used when rolling join battle, Gitta (or other mounts) gains an imitative track equal to 41-22's - the mount can move and attack without taking up 41's actions.

EVOCATIONS
LINE OF OBLITERATION SHAFT
Cost: 2m, 2ini | Type: Reflexive
Keywords: Withering-Only, Perilous | Duration: Instant
Effect: Due to the peerless efficaciously of the Lens Lance at battering large masses of men in formation, any withering damage inflicted on a Battle Group increases the wielder's initiative as if they had attacked a worthy foe. This effect also reduces the Difficulty of the Unhorse and Disarm gambit by 1.​

GEAR

The Lens Lance
Accuracy: 12 | Damage: 17 | Defense: 6 | Overwhelming: 5 | Attunement: 5​
Lethal: Does lethal damage when used with a decisive attack.
Melee: Uses the melee skill
Piercing: You may reduce your Defense by 1 and spend 1 Initiative to reduce enemy Soak by 4.
Reaching: Negates any mounted combat penalties when used on foot
Mounted: Can be used on horseback without penalty.
Two Handed: Requires 2 hands to be held. Provides +2 to clash attacks.
Laspistol
Accuracy (melee, short, medium, long, extreme): 4/10/8/6/4 | Damage: 11 | Overwhelming: 1​
Lethal: Does lethal damage
Archery: Uses the archery skill
Lasgun: Does +4 damage rather than adding your strength.
Mounted: Can be used mounted.
One Handed: Requires one hand to use.
Concealable: Can be easily concealed, requiring only a Diff 1 Larceny roll.
Flak Armor
Soak: 6 | Mobility: -1 | Hardness: 0
 
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The Regiment (0.1)
Pronouns
He/Him
The sky above Cathexias II was smeared with an orange-brown smudge. Tiny from a distance, it's true and horrific scale only became apparent with planetary context: the curve of a continent, the bulk of a moon, the glittering of city lights.

The smudge was the sixty eight thousand meter wide flaming wreck of the Happy Grox, which had managed - through guile and daring, elan and well trained gunnery crews - to sustain a naval engagement so lopsided that it should have been finished in under sixty seconds for more than three standard solar days. The Sword class frigate, with nearly sixty eight thousand souls aboard, had taken advantage of the evacuated megalopolis orbital infrastructure that sprawled around Cathexias II like a crown of thorns. Darting in and out of orbitals long since left to rot, turned into mine fields and fireships by the solemn, red robed priests of Mars, it had fired a quick salvo here, a shot there, harrying the Word Bearer battlefleet that had come to claim the world below.

The Word Bearers, trapped between their strategic goals and their tactical problem, had sieged the Happy Grox for those three days, sending teleportation squads every time they caught her thrust plume. A few Legionaries there, a few Legionaries here, slaughtering dozens before retreating into the vastness of the ship, their powered armor blending into duct and air vent, their power signatures masked by a ship's sprawl of over five hundred years of life. There, they set melta charges, plasma bombs, and foul shrines that drove men mad to look at them.

The slow bleeding and time caught up with the Happy Grox, and two battle-barges both managed to corner her, then bring her down moments before the Legionaries aboard evacuated in stolen salvation-pods.

The Word Bearers waited then, for a day.

In that time, the smudge faded. Vanished. And people asked, why did they wait?

Was it to salute the crew that had so bedeviled them?

Was it to say a prayer to their Gods?

Who was to say.

Because, on the tolling of the Hour of Mourning on Cathexias II, the battle-barges maneuvered past the orbital infrastructure, planning to drop their armies.

And the Governor-Elect of Cathexias II set the sky on fire.

***
The hatch squeaked open with a groan and a clunk and a wafting stink of burned air and you slowly slid out, the first to taste the surface air in almost a week. If your Commissar could see you now...you were pretty sure she'd have had you shot purely for the uniform. You weren't in a uniform exactly. Your normal colors and flak vest had been replaced with layers of cloth and metal plates scrounged up and cobbled together by a tech-wight who knew some little about radiation and pollutants. Add to that the goggles and a makeshift filter and the fact you could taste the surface at all was bad enough. You slowly looked around and...and felt sick.

This had been a city once. You were pretty sure it had been called Tanthar - but you hadn't had too long to really take in the local culture before Plan Retribution had been put into effect. Your days had been spent working with the other regiments placed here by Command to stem the tide of invasion building up fortifications, transporting the civilians who made the checklists into the bunkers, and...

Well.

God Emperor be praised, you hadn't been picked to protect the hatches when the plan had started.

The landscape around you was uniformly chaotic - craters and slagged buildings, pyres and pillars of smoke, and a blackened caul overhead. The only things that looked even remotely like they had survived were the void shielded facilities that Plan Retribution had decided were of maximal required need: Food synth and manufactorums. They looked like silvery pebbles stuck into a painting of the ten hells - black ash and bones everywhere, surrounding their eerie perfection.

And in the sky, hovering like a pregnant mangla shark, was a Chaos battle barge. Smoke wreathed it, and crackling void shields shrouded it, but it remained in the air in an utter defiance of gravity - its ventral thrusters blazing like tiny stars, pinpricks against its dark red and black paint. Fleets of flying machines were coming off the sides, and drop pods were being fired directly into the ground. Booming across the crackling wasteland, you could hear a distant voice.

"Rejoice! Rejoice, children! Your salvation is at hand!"

You nodded, the swung back down the ladders.

The other man - he was from the 45th, you thought - who had been selected for scout duty used a long pole with a hook to swing the hatch down.

"We good?" he asked.

"No," you said.

The 45ther sighed. As the hatch finished locking, he tugged his cloth covering aside, then stuck a lho stick between his chapped lips.

"Fuck," he said.

The two of you clanked down a narrow tube-corridor that had once been a sewer duct, then came to the catwalk that stretched over the staging ground for your regiments. You peered over the railings, shaking your head slowly.

It had been three months crawling through the warp. Three days watching the flowers and the firegrass bloom between the city streets. Three weeks of digging. Then, a week of waiting as the world burned above you. The bitterest thought?

It didn't even work.

"See you topside," the 45ther said, then made a gesture you didn't recognize. Might have been good luck. He stomped down the catwalk, while you collected yourself, looking for your regiment.

Ah, there they were.

---
What's your regiment?

[ ] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)
[ ] The 2nd Vashuden Grenadiers - the Drowners (a regiment of heavily armed, heavily armored close combat specialists from a water world)
[ ] The 10th Mordian Heavy Reconnaissance - the Steel Chariots (a regiment of professional, serious minded soldiers that all drive heavily armed walkers)
[ ] The 4th Shrike Void Special Service Regiment - the Helldivers (a regiment of light infantry specializing in orbital drop tactics)
[ ] Write In
 
[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)

all the reasons i hate kriegers are all the reasons i wanna see you write em
 
[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)
 
[X] The 2nd Vashuden Grenadiers - the Drowners (a regiment of heavily armed, heavily armored close combat specialists from a water world)

I love me some CQC. Be that straight up melee or using shotguns or other close range but not strictly melee weaponry.
 
[X] Write-In: The 111st Ornsworld Sappers, the "Tunnel Rats" (a regiment of gun-runners and pioneers laying and clearing minefields, survivors of a scoured homeworld)


It would honestly be so hype to kill space marines as ratlings, that's basically the sole motivation for this write-in :V
 
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[X] The 2nd Vashuden Grenadiers - the Drowners (a regiment of heavily armed, heavily armored close combat specialists from a water world)
 
[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)
 
[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)

Woohoo. DC returns to the grim dark future.
 
[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)

Emperor protect we are fighting the good fight lets libarate this Planet from Chaos and become it governor!
 
[X] The 2nd Vashuden Grenadiers - the Drowners (a regiment of heavily armed, heavily armored close combat specialists from a water world)
 
[X] Write-In: The 111st Ornsworld Sappers, the "Tunnel Rats" (a regiment of gun-runners and pioneers laying and clearing minefields, survivors of a scoured homeworld)
 
[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)
 
[X] Write-In: The 111st Ornsworld Sappers, the "Tunnel Rats" (a regiment of gun-runners and pioneers laying and clearing minefields, survivors of a scoured homeworld)

[X] The 2nd Vashuden Grenadiers - the Drowners (a regiment of heavily armed, heavily armored close combat specialists from a water world)

[x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)

What is this, ho ho ho
 
Adhoc vote count started by DragonCobolt on May 11, 2024 at 10:19 AM, finished with 15 posts and 15 votes.

  • [x] The 309th Krieg Cavalry - the Death Riders (a regiment of cloned, gas mask wearing depressives, riding genetically engineered horses into battle)
    [X] The 2nd Vashuden Grenadiers - the Drowners (a regiment of heavily armed, heavily armored close combat specialists from a water world)
    [X] Write-In: The 111st Ornsworld Sappers, the "Tunnel Rats" (a regiment of gun-runners and pioneers laying and clearing minefields, survivors of a scoured homeworld)
    [x] The 10th Mordian Heavy Reconnaissance
    [X] The 309th krieg calvary


Krieg Krieg Krieg and what's nice is this is the one that requires the LEAST amount of work for me cause it's a prefabbed one

Someone please roll me a 2d100
 
The Profession (0.2)
Author's note: There's gonna be some faint continuity hiccups, please ignore them. Downfall of wanting to show the world's surface before the vote, ah well...


They they were. You breathed out, feeling the backpressure of your breather against your face. It was why you had been sent up first. You had gone without complaint, even if you felt naked without Gitta. You stepped away from the catwalk, then hurried to the ladder. Taking it one rung at a time, you came down to the thronging mass of humans and tried to not cringe away from the strangers: Their naked faces, grotesque and flabby, or unnaturally sunken, or strangely hued, all made you think of braying grox in a pen. They didn't know any better. And worse, they still believed in life before death. You didn't speak to any of them, and appreciated the way that they cringed away from you as you stalked towards the formation nearest the ramp.

That meant picking your way through the racks of Russ tanks from the 65th Cadians. Their tanks had once been painted standard issue Cadian colors, but since the news had broken on ship, they had painted them black. The Cadians still looked resolute, despite the stories that circulated and whispered through the camp. You walked as softly as you could, jackboots clicking on steel, as your greatcoat brushed against the ground.

You got to the edge of the Cadian encampment and to your people - the 309th. The Death Riders had constructed a small stable using prefabricated structure units and their own hands. The horses waited inside, being tended to by your attached Magos Biologis.

You didn't like the Magos Biologis, Scu-Tau 41.

You found your commanding officer, 9-19. She was hunched over a box covered with hopelessly outdated maps, which she had been scrawling on - her estimation of artillery impact and shell damage had translated remarkably well to habitats raining out of the sky. She lifted her mask up, goggles glinting. "Report," she said.

You came to attention, lifting your chin slightly. "Sir," you said. "The enemy have brought their space assets into low orbit and are deploying along line-42 and 39. Air units. Tanks. Powered armored infantry. Traitor marines. Annoying loudspeaker, too."

"Hurm," 9-19 said, looking down at her charts. "Thoughts?"

"Good battle," you said. "Hopeless."

9-19 nodded. "To your mount, soldier."

You saluted, then turned and left the commander to her thoughts. You pitied her - she had to remain at the back, to focus on orders and commands. She didn't get to taste the death-wind that blew through the battlefield, the tang of sweat on your lips. You had to see to your equipment. The order was supposed to be lance, armor, rations, mount - for the mount was seen by the Priests of Mars and you were to trust them. You mentally edited the order slightly, for after all, you had checked your lance, armor and rations before heading up to the hatch. That was fine.

You just...

You walked to the stables, then stepped inside. The mounts were in their stalls, their feed-tubes hooked up, their heads bowed. The magos was at the far end, far from your Gitta. You hurried to stall marked 41-22, then opened the inner door, sliding in quietly. There she was. Gitta the 22nd cloned horse of this line of mounts. She had been not the first, nor had she been the last, to go through the automatica line - but she bore the scars of her augmentations with the same pride you would hope you would. Once...you got any. Your gloved palm slid along her neck, slowly, and you whispered softly.

"We're going to have a battle today, Gitta."

The armored face-plate of Gitta swung towards you, and her bright red eyes - shimmering like ruby stars - pierced yours. You looked away, feeling your cheeks heat under your mask. "We might get to die for Him," you continued, gently, checking to make sure the feed tube wasn't grinding against her cheek. Augh! It was! You reached around, adjusting it, and Gita shifted, her claws scraping happily on the metal grating. Her head shook then bumped against your chest. You were almost knocked over. Your cheeks heated more and you risked a quick hug around her neck.

"Are you excited?" you whispered.

Gitta let out a muffled whuff and then a whirring click as some internal augmentation settled.

You sighed, then brushed your gloved hand along her flank, slowly. "I..." you paused. "Am concerned. I want to be...to..."

The words failed you. Your people did not have the tongue it. You tried to put it all down into that palm touch, and you felt Gitta settle under your touch.

"What are you doing here!?"

The creaky, rattling, inhuman voice of Scu-Tau 41 made you jerk and spin around, coming to attention despite her not being in your chain of command. Remembering that, you went back to stroking Gitta. The furious, mostly metal face of the magos glowered over the door, her hands gripping the edges of it.

"Those mounts are property of the Magos Biologis - we bred them, we designed them, we put the augmentations into them! What's your name and rank, soldier?"

"41-22-H is my mount," you said, firmly.

"Oh I'll get your damn commissar if you don't get out of there right now and let me check it over!"

You hesitated. Commissar Telas scared you - the idea of dying before a battle even began, on a disciplinary firing line, was the worst thing you could imagine. You shuffled a bit, then stepped to the door. Gitta bumped her head against your shoulder blades, as if to say go go and you emerged. The magos glowered at you, her opticals narrowing and whirring as a thin tendril of metal extended from the grille above her neck.

"Well?" she snapped. "Name and rank!"

You came to...at ease. The closest you'd provide.

---
Well?

[ ] Private 2nd Class 41-22 (heavy weapons: carries the biggest guns and weapons)
[ ] Corpsman 41-22 (medic: specializing in healing allies and repairing damage)
[ ] Lance Corporal 41-22 (operator: best at piloting - both critters and vehicles)
[ ] Sergeant 41-22 (Sergeant: leader of men in battle)
[ ] Private 1st Class, 41-22 (weapon specialist: basically 'what if you were a normal guardsman, you were just the best normal guardsman')
 
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[X] Corpsman 41-22 (medic: specializing in healing allies and repairing damage)

One of the hardest jobs of a Krieger, almost as bad as being an officer, balanced uneasily between pity and contempt for being the very last to die for the Golden Throne and then wary respect for dutifully doling out the exact measure of blood each body can be made to give, over and over again, until death is at last fulfilled.
 
[X] Lance Corporal 41-22 (operator: best at piloting - both critters and vehicles)

Got to be the very best horse girl we can be.
 
[X] Sergeant 41-22 (Sergeant: leader of men in battle)

Sarges are interestingly enough also the best melee pick for normal guardsmen. Ogryns are obviously better, but well, clearly not an option. Anyways while I'm not a particular fan of horses or Krieg, chainsaw cavalry saber would be one of our starting weapons (probably) as a sergeant. They start with a chainsword in only war, so presumably as a cavalry regiment it would be a well cavalry saber variant.
 
[X] Corpsman 41-22 (medic: specializing in healing allies and repairing damage)

Your death belongs to the Emperor. Do not waste it.
 
[X] Private 2nd Class 41-22 (heavy weapons: carries the biggest guns and weapons)

Only War is big on avoiding damage by soaking it, and if we actually have to fight a space marine we're REALLY going to need something to deal with that armor.
 
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