Introduction - Campaign Aftermath
Tem
Fear pushes you to greatness.
Sorry about the wait, new update on windows corrupted my Drivers and I had to reinstall all my gear after trying to figure out what the issues were. Along with that, some of my original documents for the quest got deleted. Had to recreate them.
Whilst you are not the leader in any capacity, you can glance and see the others are not making the decision. Andrehan hums in thought but you know from personal experience he prefers fight to thinking. Botches is relatively new to the Regiment which means he won't have the soldier's trust. Alongside that...casting a careful eye on Botches you note his demeaner of slinking instead of standing. Not exactly leader material. The Commissar is staring at the corpse of your old squad leader. Their melted armour moulded to the screaming jaw open to the world. It looks like it's up to you.
You stand raising your voice over the controlled frenzy of Dragoons moving into cover. "Demolitions! Set charges on that Ork scrap! Everyone else, back away from it!" Your voice carries through the trench. Your booming tone that catches attention learned from watching the proud Broodcarers of the Orphanage maintaining order.
(Persuasion | I have a Plan!: 43)
They glance back at you, thinking for a second. The demolition specialist is already moving even as some of the guard is clearly thinking about ignoring your orders. They are quickly made to conform by their more convinced friends. Making their way back to you, the already miniscule cover is swarmed. Five guardsmen drop into your own hole returning your nod. As the demolitions is finally placed you can hear the Orks yelling happily from their captured lines. The person to your left holds their hand to the Aquilla on their gun praying. Muttering away to the God-Emperor and trying to ignore the xenos slobbering in the trenches.
"Fix bayonets! We hold them here! Demo, once they get past that walker blow them to hell!" You yell once more. Your own hand fitting your 'bayonet' to the rifle. The clinking of metal letting you know that order is followed. The Commissar rests on the sandbag to your right, Andrehan and Botches are further to your left prepared to lay hell. Aiming your own weapon down range, you see them once more.
They pile out of the corner of the trench, still slick with the blood of comrades. An Ork with a dazzlingly bright gold jaw laughs.
"Oi, da humiez are tryna-" is the most it gets to. The rest of the sentence cut off with its head.
(Combat | Go no further: 4+15: 24)
The first moments are crucial in a battle. This is drilled into you from the moment you first spawned on Vitrian to crawling into the Guard. Every second counts and your forces.... fail. The Ork who should be dead, missing half its head seems to focus back up. Its remaining eye glaring forward as it opens its jaw to screech
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH"
With that cry, they charge. Your comrades flinching at the cry as their guns fire overhead of the Orks making their way across the trench. Rounds of savagery make their way into the defenders, spattering their friends with blood. Some still live, screaming as limbs are torn asunder from the brutal guns. The Orks bloodlust growing as they stomp corpses into the ground and clamber over the Killa Kan.
"Blow it! Blow it! Blow it now!" The Commissar bellows out. Her voice in symphony with her bolt pistol.
(Combat | A well placed Explosive: 1)
The blob of green swells for a second. Then you are looking at the sky. A cough comes, unwelcomed. Turning onto your front, you place a foot on the ground to look.
A cloud of smoke obscures your vision. Smatterings of dirt land around you. Where there was once a trench lies a large...looming hole. The Orks are most likely splatters in the wind. Along with that...
You look down to see a leg. The well-worn boots firmly attached to the cared for trousers. The blood leaks out of the other end. A hand on the shoulder spooks you. You look into the eyes of the Commissar. Behind her you see Adrehan on his back, trying to get his breath back. Botches is trying to help even as he does the same. The five others whose name escapes you are in similar states of shock. You speak.
"That wasn't...Charges aren't...The explosive can't have..." Your voice comes out in a horrified stutter. 40 men and women of the Imperium. People who followed your plan...Gone. The Commissar leans closer to you, the grim look dominating your mind as her eyes glare with intent.
"They gave their lives for the Emperor soldier. Remember that and respect that."
For a long moment you try to hold that thought. That singular idea...The whistling wind shuddering in the vast silence. A crunch.
A green arm swipes the both of you, grunts escaping as you smack against the Auto Cannon. "You Fink Dat will 'urt me? I'z Snudruz Glintbita! You'z got to try betta than tha'!"
With a clanking step, you see the Ork with the golden jaw. Barely wearing armour apart from a single pauldron, the mechanical arm more than makes up for it as the bulky mess seems to have a makeshift shield welded onto the clawed arm. Its metal leg is much less high tech, quite literally a boot and some rebar forced into the shape of a leg. Finally, is its most distinct feature, a golden jaw welded or perhaps replacing the mouth as it leers at you.
(Personal Combat | Nice glinty target: 71+15: 86 VS I'z Unstoppable: 54)
The Lasgun fires at the eye-catching face. The power of the shot this close being more than enough to sear the jaw armour. The Ork yelps. It flinches back, kicking at you with its metal leg. You roll along the ground. Even so, you hear the crunches of the Ork as it tries to follow.
"M's Ja'! Y's Gi's!"
You manage to scramble far enough away to get decent footing allowing you to turn to observe your handiwork.... Huh. It seems the Ork was foolish enough to make his jaw out of gold. Combined with your shot. It seems to have melted. Raising your gun at the Ork you fire once more.
(Personal Combat | Hit it again: 81+ 15: 96 VS Y's Gi's: 82 Interrupt: Did you forget?)
The foe goes to raise its claw, only to be struck by a multiple lasguns. You flinch at the cracking sound of the cannon roaring alongside them. The Ork barely gets the chance to roar in outrage before its covered in fire. It smashes the ground causing more smoke to spike up. A squaky slam clicking back across the trenches as your comrades fire into the smoke. Barely able to see the gold-jawed Ork around the corner.
"...Xenos idiot." Adrehan declares. Resting on the smoking barrel of the Auto Cannon looking for the Ork. The Commissar standing next to it, not even winded from the Ork. Botches is making his way over to you. His pace is steady among the scraps of metal or flesh. He grips you and drags you back to the survivors of your squad. The other five living guards have their still cooling guns aiming towards the open terrain. Ready to do their duty.
Quietly you sit. Your watch focused on the destructive opening the bomb caused. Guarding it...Watching over the massacre of your fellow allies you feel...
(Due to bad rolls, you have witnessed an act that has caused you stress. This has resulted in a negative trait that can influence your character unless it is addressed. In order to get rid of traits like these you may do a number of things like faith, i.e priest confessions / vices like alcohol or other such actions / talking to someone/ etc. Some work quicker but may turn into issues on their own. Ya know, using drugs may be good mentally for a short peroid then suddenly getting hooked and wanting more... you get the picture.)
[ ] Haunted. What your actions have led to is something you carry. Every blink you hear the whispers of your allies. Asking for why. Every step weighed by the gazes of the dead. Those who died because of your plan.
[ ] Regret. This action was something that could have been avoided. Maybe if you knew more? Maybe if you had learned more about explosives? Maybe even questioned the demolitons specialist? You will never repeat this.
[ ] Fury. The damn Orks should have never come into the galaxy! They should have never even crawled out of whatever forsaken rock that spawned them! The blasted scum should have never forced this outcome. Should never have gotten your comrades killed.
[ ] Sorrow. You did not have a family. These people, the comrades...They were your family...And they lie dead. These souls of life laughing with you in training, comforting each other in the hard times... Gone...
A figure running towards your trench catches your attention. The Lasgun comes up a second later to focus on the figure running towards your position. A couple of seconds as the dust from the explosion is still settling you see the figure turn into an aide of the Colonel. Their more standard looking flak armour marking out their difference as you look upon them. You wave as they get closer to deliver the news...
A figure stands over a map. Rudimentary drawings of a plan are bare to see on the paper as around it, an efficient communication of information is passed between members of this room. The grey tent lit by the flashes of combat over the horizon. Off to the side artillery guns targeting specific spots before committing are placed near. Supply trucks loaded and ready to go to the front. The forward operating base being rudimentary as the bare necessities are utilised. The tent being the only main structure. Filled with aides and support staff who rely information to the figure in the middle.
He is a dark-skinned man. Their bottom half of their face covered by a well-maintained beard. A chiselled face with piercing blue eyes is all that can be made out. A large cap covering their head accompanying the grey coat and armour. Shining marks on his shoulders denote his rank as Colonel. They are listening to the information being shouted out to him.
"The Tunnel Rats have taken sectors one through to eight along with eliminating the enemy's airfield!"
"Orks at Sector thirteen, fifteen and sixteen have moved in on the bait."
"Navy is requesting an update on-"
"Janissaries are reporting Orks moving on bait."
"Chem-Dogs have been forced to stop at sector ten, heavy casualties but Orks are following the rest."
He hums in thought. A smile on his lips.
"Tell the Navy to bombard on the selected coordinates. All other Regiments hold until it is finished and move in. Status of the Dragoons?" The orders are quick and smooth as the speaker continues to look at the map. An aide pauses at a Vox-communicator.
"Squads one to four have been wiped. Squad five have a fireteams worth of survivors and Squads six to nine are fully operational." The news seems to hit harder as the Colonel frowns at this news. He hums in thought.
"After this is done, I will need to rest and get more recruits." He mutters quietly. Scanning the battle, he notes the amount of attention that the Dragoons would have faced on his own request. "You've made me proud." He whispers quietly as he talks to the other Regiment leaders over Vox.
[ ] Silrock. Remain on the planet. Recruits will be sent but for now you will be fighting at half strength. The main focus will be on combat, tactic building of the Vitrians.
[ ] Teldon. A pleasure world that will allow your regiment some R & R whilst waiting for recruits to be sent to you. Focus on regiment building, talking to people and relationships.
[ ] Ark 3. A cardinal world. You will be on a planet owned by the Ecclesiarch for all the good and bad that entails. Focus on potentially gaining allies in the church, cultural building of the Vitrians.
This introduction campaign is complete, short and sweet. One of the two final mechanics of the campaign is the debrief phase. After a campaign is finished you can influence where your regiment gets sent to next. A brief description of what to expect in the planets will be provided. Also I will be finally giving you a chance to name the character on the next chapter. The other final mechanic will be placed on Rolls for the Campaign information sheet if you want a hint.
[X] Trapping. Botches will set up the Killa Kan to explode, its radius means you give up half the trench to the Orks to enact this plan. Your remaining squad consists of 40 men and women, this plan forces more people to the same cover. Less guns down range. Higher risk and potentially high reward. Failure means a more difficult position.
You stand raising your voice over the controlled frenzy of Dragoons moving into cover. "Demolitions! Set charges on that Ork scrap! Everyone else, back away from it!" Your voice carries through the trench. Your booming tone that catches attention learned from watching the proud Broodcarers of the Orphanage maintaining order.
(Persuasion | I have a Plan!: 43)
They glance back at you, thinking for a second. The demolition specialist is already moving even as some of the guard is clearly thinking about ignoring your orders. They are quickly made to conform by their more convinced friends. Making their way back to you, the already miniscule cover is swarmed. Five guardsmen drop into your own hole returning your nod. As the demolitions is finally placed you can hear the Orks yelling happily from their captured lines. The person to your left holds their hand to the Aquilla on their gun praying. Muttering away to the God-Emperor and trying to ignore the xenos slobbering in the trenches.
"Fix bayonets! We hold them here! Demo, once they get past that walker blow them to hell!" You yell once more. Your own hand fitting your 'bayonet' to the rifle. The clinking of metal letting you know that order is followed. The Commissar rests on the sandbag to your right, Andrehan and Botches are further to your left prepared to lay hell. Aiming your own weapon down range, you see them once more.
They pile out of the corner of the trench, still slick with the blood of comrades. An Ork with a dazzlingly bright gold jaw laughs.
"Oi, da humiez are tryna-" is the most it gets to. The rest of the sentence cut off with its head.
(Combat | Go no further: 4+15: 24)
The first moments are crucial in a battle. This is drilled into you from the moment you first spawned on Vitrian to crawling into the Guard. Every second counts and your forces.... fail. The Ork who should be dead, missing half its head seems to focus back up. Its remaining eye glaring forward as it opens its jaw to screech
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH"
With that cry, they charge. Your comrades flinching at the cry as their guns fire overhead of the Orks making their way across the trench. Rounds of savagery make their way into the defenders, spattering their friends with blood. Some still live, screaming as limbs are torn asunder from the brutal guns. The Orks bloodlust growing as they stomp corpses into the ground and clamber over the Killa Kan.
"Blow it! Blow it! Blow it now!" The Commissar bellows out. Her voice in symphony with her bolt pistol.
(Combat | A well placed Explosive: 1)
The blob of green swells for a second. Then you are looking at the sky. A cough comes, unwelcomed. Turning onto your front, you place a foot on the ground to look.
A cloud of smoke obscures your vision. Smatterings of dirt land around you. Where there was once a trench lies a large...looming hole. The Orks are most likely splatters in the wind. Along with that...
You look down to see a leg. The well-worn boots firmly attached to the cared for trousers. The blood leaks out of the other end. A hand on the shoulder spooks you. You look into the eyes of the Commissar. Behind her you see Adrehan on his back, trying to get his breath back. Botches is trying to help even as he does the same. The five others whose name escapes you are in similar states of shock. You speak.
"That wasn't...Charges aren't...The explosive can't have..." Your voice comes out in a horrified stutter. 40 men and women of the Imperium. People who followed your plan...Gone. The Commissar leans closer to you, the grim look dominating your mind as her eyes glare with intent.
"They gave their lives for the Emperor soldier. Remember that and respect that."
For a long moment you try to hold that thought. That singular idea...The whistling wind shuddering in the vast silence. A crunch.
A green arm swipes the both of you, grunts escaping as you smack against the Auto Cannon. "You Fink Dat will 'urt me? I'z Snudruz Glintbita! You'z got to try betta than tha'!"
- Snudruz Glintbita (With Gold Jaw)
-
With a clanking step, you see the Ork with the golden jaw. Barely wearing armour apart from a single pauldron, the mechanical arm more than makes up for it as the bulky mess seems to have a makeshift shield welded onto the clawed arm. Its metal leg is much less high tech, quite literally a boot and some rebar forced into the shape of a leg. Finally, is its most distinct feature, a golden jaw welded or perhaps replacing the mouth as it leers at you.
(Personal Combat | Nice glinty target: 71+15: 86 VS I'z Unstoppable: 54)
The Lasgun fires at the eye-catching face. The power of the shot this close being more than enough to sear the jaw armour. The Ork yelps. It flinches back, kicking at you with its metal leg. You roll along the ground. Even so, you hear the crunches of the Ork as it tries to follow.
"M's Ja'! Y's Gi's!"
You manage to scramble far enough away to get decent footing allowing you to turn to observe your handiwork.... Huh. It seems the Ork was foolish enough to make his jaw out of gold. Combined with your shot. It seems to have melted. Raising your gun at the Ork you fire once more.
(
The foe goes to raise its claw, only to be struck by a multiple lasguns. You flinch at the cracking sound of the cannon roaring alongside them. The Ork barely gets the chance to roar in outrage before its covered in fire. It smashes the ground causing more smoke to spike up. A squaky slam clicking back across the trenches as your comrades fire into the smoke. Barely able to see the gold-jawed Ork around the corner.
"...Xenos idiot." Adrehan declares. Resting on the smoking barrel of the Auto Cannon looking for the Ork. The Commissar standing next to it, not even winded from the Ork. Botches is making his way over to you. His pace is steady among the scraps of metal or flesh. He grips you and drags you back to the survivors of your squad. The other five living guards have their still cooling guns aiming towards the open terrain. Ready to do their duty.
Quietly you sit. Your watch focused on the destructive opening the bomb caused. Guarding it...Watching over the massacre of your fellow allies you feel...
(Due to bad rolls, you have witnessed an act that has caused you stress. This has resulted in a negative trait that can influence your character unless it is addressed. In order to get rid of traits like these you may do a number of things like faith, i.e priest confessions / vices like alcohol or other such actions / talking to someone/ etc. Some work quicker but may turn into issues on their own. Ya know, using drugs may be good mentally for a short peroid then suddenly getting hooked and wanting more... you get the picture.)
[ ] Haunted. What your actions have led to is something you carry. Every blink you hear the whispers of your allies. Asking for why. Every step weighed by the gazes of the dead. Those who died because of your plan.
[ ] Regret. This action was something that could have been avoided. Maybe if you knew more? Maybe if you had learned more about explosives? Maybe even questioned the demolitons specialist? You will never repeat this.
[ ] Fury. The damn Orks should have never come into the galaxy! They should have never even crawled out of whatever forsaken rock that spawned them! The blasted scum should have never forced this outcome. Should never have gotten your comrades killed.
[ ] Sorrow. You did not have a family. These people, the comrades...They were your family...And they lie dead. These souls of life laughing with you in training, comforting each other in the hard times... Gone...
A figure running towards your trench catches your attention. The Lasgun comes up a second later to focus on the figure running towards your position. A couple of seconds as the dust from the explosion is still settling you see the figure turn into an aide of the Colonel. Their more standard looking flak armour marking out their difference as you look upon them. You wave as they get closer to deliver the news...
A figure stands over a map. Rudimentary drawings of a plan are bare to see on the paper as around it, an efficient communication of information is passed between members of this room. The grey tent lit by the flashes of combat over the horizon. Off to the side artillery guns targeting specific spots before committing are placed near. Supply trucks loaded and ready to go to the front. The forward operating base being rudimentary as the bare necessities are utilised. The tent being the only main structure. Filled with aides and support staff who rely information to the figure in the middle.
He is a dark-skinned man. Their bottom half of their face covered by a well-maintained beard. A chiselled face with piercing blue eyes is all that can be made out. A large cap covering their head accompanying the grey coat and armour. Shining marks on his shoulders denote his rank as Colonel. They are listening to the information being shouted out to him.
- Colonel Leuchtend
-
"The Tunnel Rats have taken sectors one through to eight along with eliminating the enemy's airfield!"
"Orks at Sector thirteen, fifteen and sixteen have moved in on the bait."
"Navy is requesting an update on-"
"Janissaries are reporting Orks moving on bait."
"Chem-Dogs have been forced to stop at sector ten, heavy casualties but Orks are following the rest."
He hums in thought. A smile on his lips.
"Tell the Navy to bombard on the selected coordinates. All other Regiments hold until it is finished and move in. Status of the Dragoons?" The orders are quick and smooth as the speaker continues to look at the map. An aide pauses at a Vox-communicator.
"Squads one to four have been wiped. Squad five have a fireteams worth of survivors and Squads six to nine are fully operational." The news seems to hit harder as the Colonel frowns at this news. He hums in thought.
"After this is done, I will need to rest and get more recruits." He mutters quietly. Scanning the battle, he notes the amount of attention that the Dragoons would have faced on his own request. "You've made me proud." He whispers quietly as he talks to the other Regiment leaders over Vox.
[ ] Silrock. Remain on the planet. Recruits will be sent but for now you will be fighting at half strength. The main focus will be on combat, tactic building of the Vitrians.
[ ] Teldon. A pleasure world that will allow your regiment some R & R whilst waiting for recruits to be sent to you. Focus on regiment building, talking to people and relationships.
[ ] Ark 3. A cardinal world. You will be on a planet owned by the Ecclesiarch for all the good and bad that entails. Focus on potentially gaining allies in the church, cultural building of the Vitrians.
This introduction campaign is complete, short and sweet. One of the two final mechanics of the campaign is the debrief phase. After a campaign is finished you can influence where your regiment gets sent to next. A brief description of what to expect in the planets will be provided. Also I will be finally giving you a chance to name the character on the next chapter. The other final mechanic will be placed on Rolls for the Campaign information sheet if you want a hint.
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