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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Now with more Dreadnaughts, Ogryns and Cadians oh my.

(This is now a general Warhammer 40K /tg/ sentimental writefaggotry thread in addition to the ongoing Krieg themed works.)

Past Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Love%20and%20Krieg

Authors please try to include your pastebin in your first post of the thread, and we can shove them in the OP of subsequent threads.

Big thank you to our OG OP BataviAnon for getting this feel train rolling weeks ago. Choo Choo.
Cog and Krieg: http://pastebin.com/Mt1cGGvw

The feedline issued a few more weak spurts into Miria's lap. Nearby, some of the bird analogues that had flown away as the wurm approached could be heard returning to the nearby trees, tittering and cawing.

From the other side of the corpse, a saw could be faintly heard, buzzing away.

"...Oh. My. God Emperor." Miria said. "You're s-serious."

Beta and Alpha looked at each other for a moment, the signature Krieg gesture of incomprehension. "Our training was focused-"

"No. Sh-shut up." Miria snapped, looking around within arm's reach. She spotted a small vascular plant, with a simple blue blossom atop a narrow stem. She yanked it from the earth and held it under Alpha's rebreather.

"What. Is. This?" She demanded.

"...A plant." He stated flatly.

"What is its n-name?" Miria shook it at him.

"Frau Enginseer, this world is uncharted. This plant has no name." Said Beta.

+Technically correct. The most frustrating kind.+

"If you s-saw this on K-Krieg what would you call it?" She asked.

"We would not."

"Not what? Name it? Are you telling me that s-since people on Krieg don't get names t-the plants don't either? Has anyone ever told you y-your people are INSANE?" Miria's eyes darted between both of them, still futily looking for some sign that maybe this was all some horrid attempt at jest. She had, after all, yet to see what passed for humor on Krieg.

"See it." Alpha clarified. "There are no plants on Krieg."

+...What? How...+

"N-none?" Her eyes widened.

"Not since-" Alpha seemed to hesitate for a moment. "-not for many generations."

Miria began to feel that sensation again. The one she had felt when they had all first met. Something dark. Deep, deep beyond her ability to see was clawing at the back of her mind. Wrong. Wrong. Everything about them was wrong. A race of people with no names, from a world with no biosphere. Why had she never seen any of the crew's faces? Why did she so badly want to forget the one face she had seen?

"...I'm s-sorry." She said, looking away from their glass eyes. "T-this is a flower. Specifically a-any plant with a fruiting body or b-bud like this on the top, nearly a-always colorful." She pinched off the petals and placed them in the commander's hand. "I n-need samples from them."

Alpha placed the petals in his breast pocket and rose from his crouch. "Understood."

After a few moments more of uncomfortable staring, and Beta turned as well, walking off to find Gamma.

Miria shivered, though the rain was not at all cold.

Sure enough, draping the camo tarp over the rib bones had created a makeshift trough beneath the guns that quickly filled with rainwater. Miria tried not to think about how much the jutting rib bones resembled tusks.

The twin Stormhammer's burned for a full three seconds, right up until the barrels began to steam as the rain vaporized on impact with their housing. Delta lowered the angle of the guns until they dipped into the makeshift pool beneath them, enveloping the turret in a cloud of haze. Mounds of flesh sloughed off the carcass, revealing massive ropey tubules that served some function Miria couldn't guess at. Fortunately, almost all organisms had only one digestive tract, multiple stomachs occasionally, but still connected to just the one long big tube.

"S-see? Just don't drive so f-fast all the water falls out."

"It is functional." Said Delta over the vox.

+Probably the highest praise I'm going to get.+

Three more shots like that and they had found it. The creature's powerful digestive acids had already gone to work, to be expected from an animal that swallowed its prey whole with little to no chewing. That pushed this organism into the category of sedentary ambush predator. Long periods of inactivity followed by a kill, then a lengthy digestion that made full use of all the materials it had consumed.

The pod's hull was tarnished from the beginnings of acidic scoring, and the hard edges and exposed rivets had already begun to smooth out. The Imperial Aquila's gold plating had eroded almost entirely, exposing its inner brass surface. Somewhat shoddy workmanship, to be expected perhaps of a civilian free trader. It was quite possible this creature might have fully digested the pod, given enough time. As it stood, Miria used her servo arm to drag the pod free of the stinking mass of flesh where it could get rained on a bit and let the acid and gore wash off.

Experimentally, Miria banged on the hull twice with her mechadendrite, and received a faint double bang in return.

"T-the occupant is alive! And conscious!"

She and Gael tried the automatic hatch release, it was disappointingly unresponsive. The pod was rated for hard vacuum and even minor explosions and micrometeoroid impact, but it was designed to be opened easily by rescue crews. The backup mechanical release involved pulling a latch that triggered a series of explosive bolts, no electronics required, to blow the door off after a short delay. Miria grabbed the lever and gave it a yank, falling over even though she had been waiting for it as the hatch flew off and slid down the creature's ruined side. Alpha and Beta had their rifles at the low ready, presumably in case the person inside tried to attack them.

+There's vigilance, there's paranoia, and then there's pointing guns at escape pods.+

"What ina' stankin' treasonous bowels o' Goge Frakkin Vandire took yun sa long? I been fixin' ta go mad in'ere with ya'll yammerin an hammerin away!"

A hulking bear of a man with a wild looking mane of red hair and beard heaved himself from the pod's recesses, leaping off the lip of the hatchway into the slick forest floor. And promptly fell over, cursing. He was clad in a personal void suit, sans helmet, albeit one adorned with all manner of jangling trinkets and baubles. In place of the helmet, he had an enormous wide brimmed hat, with one side of the brim vertical and affixed to the crown by what Miria belatedly recognized as a badge of office for a Chartered Merchant Captain. She had seen them once or twice before, on the breast or at the hip of men who would sometimes visit the Temple at the behest of the High Proctor or the Fabricator Locum. Pallas had few methods available to it to transport their Magi to other solar systems, and contracting free captains who plied the sector in trade had been one of their preferred methods. Despite the limited facilities and budget of the Pallasian Admech, the Fabricator Locum insisted that they carry out 'all the duties and operations of a Forgeworld in microcosm, including the dispatch of Explorator teams to further the quest for knowledge.'

From the mud, he wiped his face with his sleeve. Miria saw he was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. "Ah been blown up an ate in th' same damn day."

He looked around, finally taking in the scene before him. "Aw hell. Gasmasks. So ya'll are what Cap'n McKeon were transportin. Ah 'spect yun ain't afeared them greenskins none, so there's that." A smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth. "Ah'm a mite put off ya'll even took th' time ta fetch me."
(Waifu story)

88c walked down the barracks of the 645 second company it was interesting, 88c thought. But as a condemmed woman everything had a different light to it.

88c accepted her death, she's accepted it since the day she was spawned, all the kriegers have, but that was always a "Hopefully soon" kind of deal. It was different then actually knowing that you would never see the inside of your sleeping gear again.

She looked at the copper monolith vault overhead, the reddish sand she stepped on, it looked so peaceful... which was improper given that it was a warzone. The fact she saw less dead in the guard then off it was a odd realization. Irritating. Puzzling.

The krieger wandered the tents, looking for the Commissar's it was best to do it quickly. Unfortunately doing so involved going past the firing range.

88c watched the Catachan Sargent take his shots, Lascarbine firing into another ork corpse, the bleeding corpse's chest riddled with small holes where the las hit it enough to bore through the skin. The man grinned, slinging the rifle on his back as he noticed the diminutive depressed digger.

"Oi gassy, back to stalk me again?" The man tilted his head back. "Wait what the hecks wrong with you, I didn't even think Kriegers could slump, thought they shoved those shovels of yours up your arses so you can't bend."

Steam hisses from your mask. How rude! He isn't THAT far off but still, can't he feel sorry for her, on the last day of her life. You thought these offworld guys were supposed to be romantic and offer people freeze cream and deweaponized flora. Honestly this is why catachans are wow that guy is a lot closer then he was five seconds ago.

"Are you getting down with the sniffles or something." The Sargent says placing a hand on her mask, "You feel awfully warm and given this place used to be occupied by traitors disease outbreaks aren't impossible."
So, about the Krieger for Towergirls...

The dowries suggested last thread were one of the Proctor's fear-suppressing gas masks, and the Kriegers' own personal trench shovel.

But does anybody remember the Commissar story from the original L&K? In it, the commissar gives the Krieger his own gas-mask when she loses hers just before a gas attack. When she starts following him around like a puppy, it turns out lending someone your gasmasks is a heart-felt declaration of eternal love for a krieger. I think the Krieg-girl's own gasmask would be a far better dowry.

Also, clearly the Krieger wants a sweet, gentle introduction to love-making, not rough sex/bdsm. And bare skin is new and intriguing to her.
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88c knocks the hand away. "Unit is functioning optimally." The krieger hissed, wait this was her last day alive and the company did not have a confessor, she should say something meaningful to him so she can confessor for him.

"Listen, unit is apologetic for unwanted surveillance." The Catachan nods but 88c continue before he can continue. "And for making disparaging comments on your effect on my olfactory senses. And for confiscating your used drying apparatus during daily sanitation rituals."

"Wait your the loon that stole my towel?" The Sargent glared. "What the Soritas's ripped for her pleasure chainblade did you do that for?"

88c waved a hand in the air. "Research purposes. It is against protocol to interrupt. Proceeding." 88c thought on the towel, she procured the raggity red item in hopes to discover how his skin always held moisture regardless of how long it's been to skin to water contact. Results were inconclusive. Puzzling, yet rewarding.

"Unit further is apologetic for borrowing your lascarbine, using the weapon in recreational activities rather then immediately returning it. And finally unit 88c is sorry for ensnaring you within her malicious web of avarice endearment and false aesthetic pinnacles." 88c bowed. "Unit is finished and will now report to the commissar.

88c scampered off, steam trailing from her mask as the sargent blinked, thumbing through the dictoral section of the Uplifting Primer.

"Let's see here, Dictatium Administratium, Kanak... here we are, how to speak Krieg... " The sargent mumbled as he attempted to decipher the weird girl's ramblings....

"Oi did this cocky cunt just admit she's going to get herself executed for being criminally cute? That cheeky bugger." The sargent ran after the girl.

"Imbeciles, children, and loons. Why can't the guard ever recruit someone as well adjusted and civilized like meself?" The man muttered.
Commissar Cicartus von Unterbrechan thumbed through the dataslate.

A giant of a man, Unterbrechan left coatarm dangled uselessly, a single brown eye trailing through the lines of the dataslate.

"The Amore et Krieg?" The commissar rasped, placing the dataslate down and reaching for a copper tin within his greatcoat, flipping the lid open to reveal a set of flower petals.

"Lovely aren't they? Consecrated with the blessed waters of Holy Terra, they are particularly fragile in the face of the witch's foulness." The man placed a petal on the slate the pink petal sitting peacefully upon the mechanical device.

"This is not the work of any foulness of the psyker 88c." The man said, his face a patchwork of burns and scars pursed into a single lipless line. "Therefore the rot does not lie within this, tale of fancy."

The krieger gulped doing her best to shrink under her chair, it... wasn't cursed? Then that just meant... she was naturally cute? The implications were horrifying. Then, just on her own she could make the catachan do... do those THINGS HE DOES.

A sharp cough interrupted the krieger. "Now then." The man drew out the report of treason that 88c filled out for herself, eye turned away from the woman to the paper. "You report your symptons as?"

The krieg nodded. "I believe my cuteness has robbed Sargent Tear of his reason. This was the fault of my own avarice and materialistic failings."

The commissar noted. "Ah yes, the Glamour de Bellus, a popular technique of the Lord of Excess's bloated brood of perversions. And you say you have signs of this compromise?"

The krieg paused... in hindsight this seems a awful lot like Tear was going to get shot, that was unintentional. But they are orders, she must comply. "Yes, shortly after third ration, two days prior, Sargent Tear was coerced into... applying his fingers to my helm and issuing unnecessary commendations to my person!"

The commissar crossed the sign of the Aquilla. "By the throne."
Steam hissed from the krieger's mask. "There is more." She whispered.

The commissar leaned in, face devoid of any mirth. "No."

The krieg shook her head. "That same day the Sargent misplaced his lascarbine. And when I went back the next day, he stated the previous detraction did not count because he only touched my helmet. Implying he desired... skin to skin contact."

The Commissar muttered a prayer. "Clearly the rot has sunken deeper then either of us have anticipated." The commissar rose from his seat, laspistol hanging from his waist. "Alright then, let us retrieve this Sargent of yours."

"COMMISSAR HOLD ON A BLOODY MINUTE." The catachan ran into the room, muscular chest heaving with exertion.

"NOW this bloody idiot in a gasmask is going to tell you she is possesed by some, oh look shes aint shot yet cool, anyway she think she's possesed by some mind altering cuteness or whatever but I want to point out something."

The man pointed at the krieger. "This shorty is the dumbest motherfucker I ever laid eyes on and I played cards with ogryns. You don't go shoot those big blokes just because they thought they killed you when they blinked to long right? So you ought to spare this lass even though she's clearly off her rocker, she's not off it in a heretical way or anything."

"Are you finished?" The commissar rasped as the man shook his head.

"Just getting started mate, you see not only is she stupid but this crazy lass is a crazy good shot, and of course that means nothing if she was a proper heretic but shes just not right in the head and all, its not like she don't think the Emperor is a right bloke or nothing she just thinks shes cuter then she is."

"Unit's intelligence is not lacking." 88c muttered.

"And another thing!" The Sargent yelled. "You see um... er... yeah I'm done."

The commissar nodded. "Very compelling argument but one can not be lenient in the face of treachery."
The commissar pointed a gnarled finger at the Krieg. "Infantrywoman 645-88c, for attempting to subvert the ranks of the Astra Millitarium you will be removed from your squad and integrated into Sergeant Richand Tear's, you must bolster yourself in this advesary and remain stalwart against temptation.

The main pointed at the Sergeant, "That goes for you too Sergeant, these are serious charges, and should such incidents continue you must report it to me IMMEDIATELY. As a recently absorbed regiment I understand cohesion can be difficult but failures of the self is the weapon of the heretic and the xenos. Dismissed."

The krieger scampered off as the catachan blinked. "But wait sir, that's it? You ain't gonna blow anybody's head off?"

Commissar Unterbrechan would have raised a eyebrow if he still had them. "Do you wish for me to blow your head off." As the Sergeant shook his head the commissar pointed out the door. "Then you will survive, and understand the Emperor's mercy all the more for it. Dismissed."

The sergeant trundled off, the Commissar watching them disappear from view with his single lidless eye, watching the two figures shrink among the sea of tents before collapsing to the floor.

"Oh emperor. Too cute she says." The commissar rolled on the floor laughing, dust tracking on his great coat.

"Oh it hurts, everything hurts. Her boyfriend even tries to, emperor have mercy." The man slams his hand on the dirt floor. "I can't, too cute." The man chortled, coughing as he crawled to his desk.

"I have to call Annrietta, she'll flip." The commisarr crawled his way to the desk, still giggling as he dialed his fellow commissar.

"Annrietta, are you alone, I need to divulge a confidential matter. Look your ogryn story can wait you will not believe the report this Krieger gave me."
And on that I go to bed, you guys have better liked that it took forever... relatively at least.
I fucking knew the captain would survive. I mean he still has his date to go on. Can't let down a lady, now can he?

Course he made it. We need him alive so he can educate Miria about gasmasks.
That was pretty damn fun, liked the tie-in at the end. Your characterisation is spot-on and the dialogue is superb. It could maybe be formatted a little better but that's an extremely minor quibble compared to what we got.
That seemed like a pretty natural ending but if you felt like doing more I wouldn't complain in the slightest.
Ya'll tards forgot to link the last thread, and link in the last thread, that might be a blaming.
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For those confused about how the stating of the Warhammer gals goes, heres an example sheet. i'll leave it for yall to decide over until the end of the day before taking whatever suggestions you give and compiling them into her card, based on whats popular or what makes the most sense
FUCK YEAH, CAP'N STILL ALIVE UP IN HERE! And the dude has the best damn story to tell when he gets home, hopefully with a certain SOB with him, dis gon b gud.
Posting from last thread.

Death Korps of Krieg.
Krieger/grenadier chan.
Soldier of the imperium.

+Completely devoted to her commander.
+A curious girl, inquisitive about these new...feelings.
+Has thousands of clone-siblings to fight with her
+/- Has no idea of what smut is.
- Eschews wealth or glory, as that is what doomed her planet.

Love #-#-#-#
Lust #
Power #-#-#-#

Krieger mask.
Negate all morale or emotion based issues when Item is in use.

Trench shovel(does... something?)

Superheavy artillery battery.
Destroy any target object with #-#-# or lower.
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Sounds legit, I want to leave my Kriger girl panting and clinging to me at the end of the night. Then snuggle up together while balls deep....damn, I made myself sad now.
>Literally needs to use a guide to translate cute Krieg girls ramblings
this is why I like the thing you write.
This commissar is taking the piss...right?
Oh god, the commissars are in on the shenanigans, this is fucking gold.
They will never know.

The commissar's are the funnest to come up with because there canon alternatives are overthetop badasses so I get to play that out here.

'Commissah' Annrietta was always around the 645, while Commissar Cicartus was absorbed alongside the catachan regiment. This gives you the kindof idea of what they have had to go through and their personalities.

One specializes in diplomacy and reads the tactics of her idols like Yarrick and Ciaphas, the other has the job of herding incredibly surly cats.

Incidentally Cicartus got his scars from shoving his left arm in a carnifex and detonating a melta grenade.
The xeno's hide was tough enough to protect him from the worst of the blast but not the alien's internal organs. He still looks like that because he refused cybernetics, referring it as a waste of funds.
This is actually really good.
What if the trench shovel can "Be used to automatically liberate one Solider from enemy lines, ignoring fortifications."
Badass and funny.
I maintain it should be her own, personal gas mask.
But anon, then she wouldn't have one. Unless it's her spare mask.
Maybe shes one of those rebellious Kriegers who hang out with the other regiments and get influenced by the wrong type of crowds. Like the cadians.
As if our girl could be anything so heretical. If anyone's going to be corrupting the Krieger it's going to be us.

Anyway my pastebin was asked for here it is, ignore whatever isnt 40ky thats for a different thing.
is the non 40ky stuff good?
No, because its for a pokemon quest.

If you look at it your going to find info docs you dont really care about.
It's a romantic nod to the origina L&K. She knows it's against regulations; that's how much she loves you.
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Here is a rough idea.
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I want to protect her the entire time we are fighting the Emperor's enemies, get garrison duty, move in together, make pic related and have it feel like a real home for her. We can even put a little trench outside and barbed wire around the sandbags.
Id say

>4 love
>1 lust
>3 tech and 3 power

seem more of an even arrangement
Fetishes - gentle, clothed
Dislikes - deviancy
>Dislikes - Too much deviancy(knows the signs of heretical extremes, but anything before that she is as innocent as can be. Might be very willing to learn if she enjoys it.)
There we go, fixed it m8.
prolly cant fit that much into a single worded dislike mate-o
Turn offs- Everything. Herself.

Simplified it.
>Dislikes - Heresy(Knows only as much as she was told about it)
How about this.
Turn offs are a separate thing, and that would only count until she gives you her mask. Then the fun can start...well it can start and she really enjoys it then...eventually.
"But mimikyu she can't hate EVERYTHING.

Lets make her dislikes heresy!"

Pick one. If it exists its heretical, if it doesnt exist its even more heretical because imagination is the path of the witch.
They aren't that stupid, otherwise they wouldn't be able to fight with other regiments as the standard tactic to deal with something they hate/is heretical/ect, is to shoo the ever living shit out of it...or shank it with a shovel. They also need to meet the minimum requirement to function around others if they suffer the fate known as Garrison duty.
shoot it* shooing is reserved for the random ogryn that wanders into the command tent.
I thought there was a famous inquisitor quote that basically said "Everythings heretical" but what do i know I tend to miss things.

But I do recall krieg's command staff is entirely auxillary for that reason. The krieg do not have the mental flexibillity for the diplomatic waters of high command.

This is also why you do not see a krieg inquisitor, beyond such a thing being horrifying.

So many exterminatus.

Uh dude, no. You have no idea what you are talking about do you? Their Commissars are non-krieg, same as every other regiment, but the command staff are Kriegers. Now there may be no Krieg inquisitors, but there are Krieg Colonels Majors and Generals. I'm kinda getting sick of you coming in here and spewing your opinions when you clearly have no idea what you're talking about and haven't done any research beyond maybe taking a peek at a wiki.

Not only do you frequently propose things that aren't compatible with canon, in the past when anons have pointed out that the books do not support what you have to say you've essentially said "well that is stupid" and proceeded to ignore it. You aren't an authority, despite your trip, and unlike the other write fag you haven't even bothered to do your research.

Now that's fine for just having a giggle, which is all what you've written is good for, but you really need to stop trying to shove your misconceptions down other anon's throats.
"Staff officers and flag officers are usually seconded from other Imperial Guard regiments or from the Imperial noble classes that provide much of the Imperial Guard's upper echelons and these positions are often retained as hereditary entitlements. Krieg officers, who are dedicated to the Death Korps' narrow doctrine of attritional warfare, are generally considered incapable of performing the political and diplomatic roles required for the staff officers or commanding officer of an Imperial Guard army command."

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I'll see your wiki reference and raise you a page from the primary source book.

I just realized that sounded like I was contradicting him. Supporting evidence my bad.
The everything is heretical is a quote from a know lunatic Inquisitor(pre clean up), its a meme in their universe, or as close to a meme as they know about. Hell the guy has nothing to do with the Krieg anyways, why did you think that.
Basically this.
You have no idea how much of a reply I deleted.

Look I get I do not have much Warhammer literature but I DO try, do you know how long it took me just to write the backstory of "What kindof drill would a ogryn have?".

I do have parts wrong, like my Medal of Sufficiency, but the stuff I say that I've been contradicted on is more on the other peoples stories not the actual canon.

Cause while my interpretation of the vitae womb is off, Krieg is mostly left to our imagination.

Do people think I don't try?

The claim wasn't "Krieger's think everything is heretical." The joke was "Everything is heresy so the two words are synonyms". It's still wrong but that's the answer to your question.
why did you think that* was relevant?
Meh, just tunnel vision and overthinking about justifying what you write, and the cursory understating of the universe being annoying as well though, past that pretty good....the double space typing being a waste of space and spreading out your text unnecessarily not withstanding.

I'm sorry. I kinda feel like shit now. I don't mean to say you don't try, and I suppose I was overly confrontational, and I apologize, it's just sometimes you are really insistent about things that are not quite right and I'm autistic. It rustles my jimmies and i let that make me into an ass, and i shouldn't have. You are of course entitled to your own interpretation, and no one is perfect, so it's understandable. I mean i make mistakes too, I made one when when I called you out. You were right, there are staff officers seconded to the Krieg from other regiments, and the practice is common. It's just in the books I had read the Generals were Kriegers, and I acted without thinking and let my temper get ahead of me. I hope you'll forgive me. I don't mean to say I think you put no effort into your work, it's quite enjoyable and I'm sure that takes some effort, I just fell into the classic blunder of /tg/ and started a shit show that really wasn't necessary.
Well evidently I can't fix most of that because I can't find any books besides the Horus herasy series (Which predates krieg) and one Commissar Cain book.

I can get some of that, as mentioned before I have found that my fake medal doesn't exist, and I'm sure I made more impossibilities, but I don't remember most of them.

It's difficult cause these things take hours (Well as a lump sum) and if all they are good for is being mildly amusing I can just go for one liners.

They are better for more than just a little amusement. I rather enjoy them and I look forward to seeing you update I just...look I take lore to seriously for my own good alright? I got kicked out of my LGS for arguing with a guy about tech priests like some sort of retard. I had been trying really hard to hold it in and not do anything cause I didn't want to shit up the thread or stop you writing, but I've been having a bit of a bad day and when I came in and saw that I just kinda lost it. Hurray autism.

But if you wanted to read the books you could find the pdfs in the Mega in the 40k general. Dead Men walking, Down Amongst the dead men, all the Siege of Vraks, one or two of the Cain novels, and Fall of Orpheus for latest rules. Unless the mega is down. I think it might have been, I only go in there when I need to download books and I haven't been in for a while. That place is bad for my sanity and blood pressure.
I forgot those were options, I'll give them a look. Thanks.
I'm mainly concerned because of how utterly my story is character driven.

I mean there is sort of a plot, in the same not really way a lot of comedies do. It's not like I got any action scenes or suspense, if the characters are boring or inaccurate to the setting that's really all I have. If its off then its just some weird nonsensical space ripoff. With no space.
On a serious note SHOULD I continue the waifu thread.

This isn't a "Should I pack it all in" deal, this is simply. "Is that story at a good cuttoff and should I work on the ogryn one in double shifts instead." or "Should I keep winging it?"

Cause I mean I can move forward with the story if I need to but thats not to say that I'll get a better point to end it then that. There are plenty of stories that in my mind went on too long and messed things up.

Off course 88c never got her sweet legitimate head pat.
When you say Waifu thread, what do you mean. If you mean the story then yes, if you have the time an energy we would appreciate it. We NEED to see her get legit head pats...and see the Catachan's reaction to her smile.
For some reason I call both of my stories threads so yes

I really wish I had a better name then "Waifu Krieger" but I didn't and still don't.

Though its doubtful the catachan will ever see her smile, for the simple fact that only one Krieger has a interest in not being in full uniform.
Hey can you post your story to a pastebin?

Did that.


The stories are even seperated, which should make things WAY more easier.
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In another error I noticed I use the Uplifting primer as some sortof combination of the Hitchhikers guide and the Boyscout handbook, the go too book of whatever random regulations and tips you need, from how to speak Ogryn to the proper way to fix your bed.

In canon however, its just the biggest crock of shit is mainly there to attract recruits who do not know any better.

But in a actual fun fact, Thudd got his name from a gun. For some reason I named him Thump and changed it mid way because I don't think things through.

But the thudd gun is four motars strapped together commonly used by Krieg.

Make of that what you will.
In no particular order:
Things like the primer being a reference book and so on...Fuck it, it was funny. You do the comedic stuff with aplomb so don't sweat the details too much. The loremonster who was posting earlier is not really indicative of how the majority of us see your work. Go with your headcanon if it makes for better story and disregard the nitpicking. You seem to have a good handle on the important stuff anyway.
Should you continue the lovelorn Kreig-chan? Sure, if you want to. The way it was left is fine as an endpoint if you feel like doing ogryn full-time, but I'm sure we'd all like to read more if you're up for it.
Your characters are great, definitely your strong point. The ogryn is oddly sweet to read about and the kreiger girl is all kinds of cute fun.

Ultimately, do what you want to do and we'll read it happily for most of the reasons I've mentioned. All I would ask is - if you want to pack it in, let us know so we're not waiting in vain. What you've done is great and no-one who matters would begrudge you.
Do you want more feedback on each of your posts?
Sure why not. Note it may or may not be used.

The reason for this is no offense its simply that I write so "immediatly" and without editing that even if someone tells me "Oh you used there wrong", I am inevitably going to do it again. I simply write too much with the goal of "getting it out so I dont over think it" to polish it that much.
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Actual lore question: Was Greiss a commissar. The wiki says no, 1d4 says yes, I am confused.

This only matters because it affects who the Commissah reads books from.

One thing people need to work on is changing tense and point of view in the middle of the story. Sometimes it's third person in past tense, sometimes it's second person present.
I've noticed that a few times, my biggest issue is that each of the stories have different ones.

88c's is written 3rd while Thudd's is written in second because I didnt think to write it in first for some reason. If I do a third story, which i am likely to inevitably do because I have too much free time due to looking for work, I likely will have a first person narrative just for giggles.

The time tenses i am just awful at though.
Fragments: http://pastebin.com/64EeM2WG

“You are unbelievable...do you think I am just going to disappear?”

“Don’t let it bother you,” the commissar offered her an iho-stick, “they all do the same thing to me.”

The Witch leaned back and regarded Theta. The man across from her examined his gloves, wondering how many hands had worn them and who would get them next. The whispers made him sit up and the voice nearly made him shoot out of his chair. “You're sick,” the voice had said, “you’ve been sick for a long time.”

Theta looked at the Witch but her lips were not moving.

“You can tell me everything, unless you want me to pry. I know that sounds unpleasant but you might enjoy it.” Her smile threatened to split her face.

Before Theta could turn the room into a charnel house the colonel’s aide entered and escorted them to the command room. Colonel 76, a small man in a battered cuirass as old as the regiment, was examining a stack of picts taken from orbit. A bust of Colonel Jurten the only decoration on his desk. He waved the Captain and the commissar over. Theta and the Witch watching them from a respectful distance.

Theta did not hear the opening remarks, he was too busy staring at the colonel’s bust. “Are you hearing this?” the Witch hissed, “we are leaving!” She was right.

“The wilden mob from Catachan discovered a gap we can exploit in the eastern sector. We will join the rest of the division and attempt a breakthrough there.” The colonel sounded bored. Then: “But you have a special task Captain. If the breakthrough is going to succeed we need their reinforcements to be drawn somewhere else. Your company will launch an assault on the opposing trench line tonight. You will hold their ground and try to repel all counterattacks.” The colonel leaned back, satisfied.

“I… don’t think this is possible Colonel.” The commissar had gone pale. “They do not have the manpower to hold and without supp-”

“It is not a matter of holding land it is about drawing the enemy away from the rest of the regiment. If you have doubts about this action you can join company A on their excursion.”

“That will not be necessary.”

Theta watched impassively as his death sentence was argued over by a drunk and a fanatic. A model guardsman if there ever was one. Eventually the commissar ended his objections and resigned himself to defeat.

“Reaching the objective will be difficult in the dark but the psyker will aid in navigation.” Colonel 76 turned to the Witch, who had gone pale.

She stammered. “My br... The Lord General did not not send me here to be invol-”

“A message arrived this morning putting you under my jurisdiction. A copy of it was sent to you but it appears it never arrived. Most unfortunate. You will receive a vox bead and a uniform as soon as possible.”

“I want to…I need to have a word with everyone in company A… before they go. I would like to bring priests from the village...” The commissar seemed more weary than usual.

“Don’t delay them. The priests are unnecessary, the last sermon given to the company will not be heresy. Dismissed.”

The Witch trembled beside Theta but he did not spare her a glance. For the first time in his life Theta felt relief. The mornings, the backward villagers, the prying Witch, the drunk political officer, the all pervading guilt, all of it would be swept away in blood. The only thing the corporal hoped for was that he would reach the objective before… Now that the permanent end of his career faced him it was hard to comprehend it.

The corporal looked into the eyes of the bust. He squirmed under their gaze.
You know what i realized.

None of us kept the old LoveandKrieg's habit of the krieger's being completely mute unless explicitly ordered to speak.

Which was never canon. Kriegers can and do speak in the original source material . Someone back then just did it, and then the thread latched on to it and ran with it.
Oh I am aware of that much at least. It's just interesting because some elements HAVE been used in future works even if not necessarily canon. Like Regentrop. But no one used that one, I may use it later on, sounds like it can cause a fun bit of frustration.

"So let me get this straight." The Commissah tells you, mechanical hand holding her head as the woman sighs. "You met a man in the tunnel with a chain-pickaxe, exchanged pleasentries and then he just left."

You nodded, teeth grinning. "Dat's roight, lovely fellow."

The commissah groaned, hand in her head, rebreather unit hanging from her belt as the woman sighed. "Latrine duty, for as long as you live."

"Um boss, I already got dat." You said as the woman sighs even harder. "Then latrine duty... lets see here... Watchmaster."

Sixtysomethingelse blinked to attention. "Yes sir?"

"What is something degrading and humiliating you'd rather not do?"

Sixtysomethingelse paused, the officer pondering the question. "Unit would be resistant to unnecessary fraternization personally."

The commissar blinks. "You are trying to tell me that the best way for me to punish your men is to make them play cards with there friends?"

"What is a 'friend'? General Pipal did not requisition these assets to us." The watchmaster questioned as the woman groaned.

"I bet Yarrik never had to deal with this." The woman muttered as she came to a decision. "Right then, latrine duty... while doing math problems. You can't leave till your done."

You gulped, you no good at math... dat was the one bout the colors right?

"Commissar with respect this is a waste." Captain Thirteeun stated, sabre at his hip. "If we began pursuit immediately the xenos would be dead by now."

The commissar sighed. "I am not going to send perfectly good men down to try to chase a ORK tunnel, knowing the greenskins the thing's already collapsed and the bastard simply hasn't noticed. Mission rejected." The commissah sighed as the Captain.

Sixsomethingelse thought. "Permission to speak sir?"

"Granted" Thirteeun and Commissah said together.

"If the ork didnt recognize Thudd, as testimony indicates its likely to return equally bewildered. Chances are that pursuit is simply unnecessary for staging ambush.
Thirteeun was silent, weighing the pros and cons. "We can stage a ambush and kill him there."

You blinked, the tatikul information hurting your head. "Can I go to latrine duty now?" You ask as the commissah waved a hand.

"Oh, of course, both of you dismissed Sixfiveseven retrieve Engiseer Aregos for us." You got up as da wotch masta nodded. It took a bit but you got it all figured out.

Wotchmasta meant little boss, so dey tell you whats what, but they get told whats what by Thirteeun who gets told what what by dis nice lady who gave you a cake one time, and she gets told whats what by um... you guess the emeperor.

And he gets told whats waht by your mum, cause she knows best but she gets told by the emepror again because he's extra smart so he gets to tell people whats what twice.

Dis of course not including buddies like the Commissah and Thirteeun are, or you an Fifteehate.

Speaking of buddies you amble up to her, the woman armed with dose water shooters as she hosed down the latrine with the practiced aim of someone used to those hot things you can't touch no more.

"Greetings Ogryn." The woman tilted her head to the towel. "Dry."

You nod as you get to work.

A few minutes later you admire your first day on the job.

"Dat looks like some good job." You said admiring the water soaked latrine. It's smell went from da latrine smell to the smell you get from da rest of the tunnel where it is rainy. You've been told dat is what done smells like.

Fifteehate nodded. "Conclusion is acceptable..." Fifteehate paused. "Inquiry."

You stop walkin and wait. "Woit?"

"Unit... I have a question." Fifteehate stated, doing her best to learn how to speak da words right like you do.

You smile as you nod. "Dat sounds like a boss's job, I'll go get Thirteeun." You start to amble off but your finger is grabbed by the Krieg, the officer's head tilting away.

"Actually, this is a question for you."
You blink. No one ever asked you what's what, you usually just made sure dey didnt do nuffin dumby like dieing cause dey got shot a little. You blinked. "Go ahead."

"When your unit, the Catachans, got absorbed by the sixfortyfives... what was it like. Having to work with," The woman thumbed her hand over the underground trench behind her, the vast small that's been the subject of your not good dreams. "This. Us, me. Was it difficult?"

You shrugged. "Whats a diff-u-cult? Dat sound's heretical... I ain't heretical, i finish the green stuff on my plate all proper like."

Fifteehate thought, trying to rephrase the purpose. "Was it hard? Losing your friends and being stuck in this? Having to go into tunnels every day and digging when your job's to fight. We've had other regiments serve with us, they are always cleaner. Even the penals. More pure or something, normal I guess. Forgivable." Fifteehate paused, steam lingering from her mask. "Interregiiment moral is always... suboptimal."

"Oh... I don't know." You shrugged. "I mean I did it, so dat's dat right?"

Fifteehate slumped, you can tell because her head tilted a bit lower to her torso. "Inquiry withdrawn."

You shrugged. "Da smalls not fun but I don't know whats the fuss about, yous just as normal as all da other littleun's i got to fight with."

There is a pause, the two of you playing the quiet game in front of the urinal.

You win. "Thudd you are a idiot." Your buddy muttered as she walked away.

Well dat wasn't very nice... You shrug, ambling back to the mess tent, if your fast enough maybe you can borrow da spare rations.
Thats all for now, I found out that juggling so many things makes it harder to slip into thudds voice so I tried to put that a bit harder, beyond the simple semi mangled grammar of course.
Thud sounds like Banjo from Discworld, raised right and proper-Like by Ma Lilywhite.

Tactical bump.
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Adorable. Yey

Alpha slung his rifle and motioned Beta and Gael to get back to the tank. "We were ordered to do so. You are injured, Adept Rorken will assess you. We are leaving in five minutes."

"W-what? When I told the quartermaster I h-had medical knowledge, I meant in terms of anatomy and biology and s-stuff." Miria blurted as Alpha ascended the hull.

Alpha stared at her for a moment. "Improvise. You do not lack imagination." Then he disappeared within.

+You, you...Oh!+ Well at least the Krieg had mastered snark, if that could be considered an emotion.

+Right, well I'm not checking a head wound wearing this.+

Miria pulled her helmet and mask off, ruffling her errant locks. Her hair was getting pretty unruly between the sweat and humidity.

From the ground, the man seemed to rifle through his pockets, looking for something. "Ah dun suppose yun got any...any...oh."

"Is-is there something on my face?" Miria asked.

The man belatedly closed his mouth, then his eyes drifted slightly lower. "...Iffn that's what ya'll lookit under them gasmasks and cloaks, making ya wear 'em is wunna th' saddest things in this here blighted galaxy Ah ever seen."

Miria felt her cheeks flushing. "Uhm. I'm not Krieg s-sir, just liaised to them. I am a-an Adept of the Cult Mechanicus."

"Them Cogheads?! So yer'n gon cut all them bits off 'stead? An' fill yerself up wit tubes and wires? Ah take it back, thas even sadder." He dragged his eyes back up to her face.

"Pard' mah manners, Ah'm a mite...shook up bein' shoved down th' gullet a that thing." He jabbed a thumb at the carcass behind them.
"Happen jus as soon as Ah landed, right askance that grey dungheap lookin tower off yonder. Plum thankful yun swung by ta grab me. Name's Barls, Barl Graves, leastwise till Ah get me a new ship, then back ta Cap'n Graves." He stuck out a hand, which Miria took after a moment.

"Y-you were the c-captain of the other transport? You rammed an o-ork ship? Are you mad?!" Miria gawked as he doffed his hat.

"Mad lustin' after a ladyfair's favor belike." He frowned as he found what he was looking for, a pack of lho sticks, totally squashed. "S'truth, Ah dun ken what came over me. Summat had ta be done, elsewise a lot ah good men, iffn ya could call them gasmasks and 'clessiarch eunuchs men, were gon end up twistin in the void." He shrugged and tossed the pack in the mud. "Jus in th' wrong place at the right time Ah reckon."

He waved off Miria's uncertain ministrations. "None a that, Ah'm fit ta go, and eager ta find th' rest a mah crew." He started off toward 301.

"We h-have vehicles recovering the other pods a-as we speak."

Some of the tension left his shoulders. "...Ah reckon thas th' best I can ask fer."

Miria nodded. "E-every effort is being made. Captain McKeon w-was quite insistent we find them a-all."

A small smile creaked across his face. "...Really. That's mighty fine a her. Looks like Ah got summat ta look forward to after all."

By the time they had linked up to the convoy again, it was nearly noon the following day. The regiment had carved a path in the jungle undergrowth easy enough to follow, and much easier to traverse than cutting through the trackless wilderness, but even so, the sun was high in the sky before Gamma was able to raise any allied elements on the vox. From there, they advanced together unmolested to the Imperial base, nestled in the valley mouth of a cave riddled mountain range.

As they rolled up, Miria saw that the staging area they were in was merely one of several, with Hydra batteries and emplaced guns dotting the cliffsides around them, and several makeshift bunkers carved out here and there. The section they were going to was especially dug in, apparently demarcated for forces from Krieg. It was crisscrossed with massive earthen and wood breastworks, gun pits, pillboxes and trenches winding up and down the section of cleared forest and only terminating at the actual mountainside itself.

Silent men in greatcoats of some variation of grey to black manned the weapon systems, tracking the approach of 300 company's armor column with their guns. Miria wondered just how willing they would be to open fire on a seemingly allied formation.

+Probably the instant they were ordered to.+

She shuddered.

The Russ ended its long, strange journey from Pallas in a dirt tarmac motor pool, surrounded by other vehicles in various states of repair.

Former captain Graves bid the crew of 301 goodbye, and went off to locate what remained of his men.

As Miria watched him walk off, as she watched Delta, Gamma and Beta begin removing their entrenching tools from the equipment racks and head off in the direction of the nearest gunpit, as Alpha pressed into her hands another perfectly filled out Munitorum requisition form (this time in a plastic waterproof sleeve) for the parts and materials they would need to repair 301, Miria was struck.

+I...I think I need to understand these people better. Alpha may have been being an ass, in his weirdly Krieg way, but he was right.+

Her servitor had come up alongside her again, his remaining eye flitting from her face to the surrounding environment. The rain was dripping from his oversized augmetics.

"I d-don't want you to get soaked again Gael, c-can you take a rest inside the tank f-for a bit?"

"This rain warm." He said.

"S-so, you like this rain?" Miria asked.

Gael brought his three sided claw out, and let the droplets patter against the limb. Rain pooled in the broad, flat fingers, and fell off the sides. He watched it for a moment, then brought his hand down again.

"Gael is helping." He intoned, clomping back to 301 and taking up a defensive stance, scanning the area for threats.

Miria felt something tighten in her chest as she watched the cyborg walk off. +He saved all our lives...and because of what he has been reduced to, I am utterly powerless to thank him in any way that would mean anything to him. What did he fail in, that was so monumental he deserved...this?+

She had several things she needed to discuss with Alpha. Badly. He had left to attend the all companies briefing being held in the command tent for the regiment, as soon as Colonel 209 and 111 had received their own briefings with the General. Miria imagined that would be happening soon, so she had a window right now where Alpha had no pressing duties, and she had an excuse in her hands in the form of her Munitorum requisition form to head to the command area as well. She started off, with one backward glance to where Gael was still slowly patrolling through the motor pool.
Gael is best Gael, great stuff as always.
Awww, Thud needs to give her a hug.
Gael is helping
Thudd's oddly suited to work among the kriegers, since he's scruinty is actually rather high. I figure I'd give him a Forrest Gumpian skill at one thing and for him he can actually tell all the Krieger rather easily apart simply by there very minute body language.

This is separate from Richand who simply assumes he's never met a krieger until they start to annoy the snot out of him, in which case he assumes they are 88c. So far he's never been proven wrong.
Uh...okay? That makes absolutely no sense as a response, but cool I guess. Thudd being the company Forrest Gump sounds legit.
I couldnt think of anything else to say honestly besides "Thudd can see that shes sad." I've been sick for awhile so I am not thinking very coherently right now.
I couldn't tell, you usually make nonsensical comments to small things...its hard to tell if you aren't thinking at all sometimes or if you are overthinking. Sometimes you do both, so I doubt being sick is doing as much as you think. Get well soon though.
I've been sick for the whole week so there is that.
Ah...well I cant wait till you are healthy and coherent, get well soon then chum.
hey where's batavi anon? He's the one that started these threads and I'm looking forward to reading more of his stuff the most
If i recall he was rather busy since his last post so I assume he continues to be busy.

I can be wrong but I assume whatever was keeping him up before is still doing so. Not everyones as free as me.
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Saving this.
Bump from nine

Power dildo upgrade when?
page 9 already?
Its a weekend so I can imagine why.
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indeed. I just pop on before work in hopes of some stories. good to know people are doing stuff elsewhere on the weekends for a change.
Bump again.
Well I meant it in two ways.
During the weekend we actually lingered for a long while at 6. So I assume that with people actually playing games and stuff relevant game threads are moving faster because General gets use when rule questions are actually brought up.

On the other end this is a story thread, which would naturally drop down because people can go watch movies and the like rather then read fanfics.

(Says the guy who spent the day watching topgear and reading Cain)

Commissar Crostadt spent the evening talking to men in Company A. He sought the guardsmen out in their trench. He assured them that they would all survive the assault, lectured them on the righteousness of their cause, distributed Administratum approved literature and promised them that all their sins would be forgiven. The commissar smiled at the men and clapped their backs but his heart ached. He made offers that were refused. Even more distressing, the commissar found himself handing out pornoslates from his special collection to the doomed men. They needed some happiness. The slates were accepted and examined by the guardsmen out of politeness, many thinking that they were looking at images of fine art.

Theta was on a stool wrapping puttees on his lower legs when the commissar found him. The larger man tried to give his usual spiel but broke down in front of the skeptical corporal.

“This was not my idea. You know that don’t you? I…” He looked up at the darkening sky, his transfer request was floating around somewhere in that void. At last he looked down. “We never saw eye to eye. I know I… acted unbecoming towards you several times but it wasn’t your fault. It was...”

The men sat in silence. Both of them unable to say what they felt. Theta wanted to say that everything was alright. That all the times the commissar called him a “deranged bastard” or a “four eyed lunatic” did not matter. That everything could be right again if something, anything happened. Theta did not know the words.

“There is a way out, I need an aide. Die for the Emperor somewhere else.” The commissar looked at him pleadingly but the corporal shook his head. He took a deep breath and continued:

“When I first came here I wanted things to be better. I am not ordering you to forgive me but you have to believe this.” The commissar dropped a pornoslate onto Theta’s lap and left.

“Me too, sir.” the corporal said.

As the commissar left Theta began to examine the slate. Images of outlandish scenarios flew past his eyes, many of them involving respectable women in not so respectable positions. One image resonated with him. On a velvet blanket stretching across a marble floor lay several ladies in waiting who surrounded a planetary governess, all in various states of depravity. One woman with auburn hair pulled back appeared to look at Theta. Her look was filled with contempt but there was something that made Theta feel lightheaded. It was not the psyker but the resemblance was strong enough to make the man’s mind churn. He gave a message to a private and stored the slate in his greatcoat.

When the Witch arrived Theta had his mask on his lap and he was polishing the lenses. He regarded her with eyes that were too large for his face and too dark. Doll’s eyes.”You will be part of my squad. If anything goes wrong I will know it,” he pursed his thin lips, “you will be in front of me. If you feel the warp you won’t feel it for long.” Theta’s threats were clumsily delivered and he tried too hard to imitate the tone of the commissar. He absent mindedly ran a hand through poorly cut hair. The Witch laughed.

“That whore looked nothing like me, you know you can’t hide everything.” She frowned and leaned towards him, there heads nearly touching. “Why can’t you be honest with yourself? It’s not about me being a psyker.”

He stared at the lenses.

“You cower on your cot every morning but in the day you turn your back on a grieving widow. It’s not about the Emperor or other people. You see your memories and me and you know that you are not the man you pretend to be. But it's alright because you will die for your regiment, you never had any desire to solve your problems. Our chances are not looking good so stop fooling yourself.” The corporal checked his chronometer.

“Time to advance.” Together they departed.
Do you guys mind if I post something? Also, critique would be great as I'm an aspiring writefag.
201-33a lay in the mud and wondered when his unit would find him, there wasn’t enough energy left in him to really hope but still he couldn’t help but wonder. He had been slogging for more planet cycles than he could count or maybe it was that he had just lost count in his tiredness, in the end it really didn’t matter to him. As a gentle rain fell on the foxhole he had dug he reflected on the events of the….recent or semi-recent past that had led to his current situation, his unit had been tasked with the defence of an armoured convoy of techpriests heading to outpost 8838-66b7 to minister to the holy artillery batteries. An ambush had been waiting for them, his unit was prepared for such an eventuality but not for the numbers involved and the ork speedboyz had cut through the convoy like an adamantine blade through a heretics head.
Now here he was, hunched and cold as the rain began to soak through his uniform and into the already sodden moor. 201-33a considered giving in, he was probably walking towards an outpost already fallen. He had not heard the blessed guns sound their fury to the sky in over….a week….a month…..he was no longer sure, his chronometer broken and filled with water as it was and his rations having run out only many days previous. 33a was at his limits, at his wits ends when he saw in the distance across the vast muddy heather filled plain a stumbling figure. 33a stared through his red lenses at the figure and calculated the odds that it was a friendly in his overwrought mind….slim and next to no chance, but never in his life more than now had he wanted to see another human as badly as he did right at this very instance. As the figure stumbled and fell, 33a began to sprint towards it, with effort and a groan he pulled himself from the cloying mud and limped between bushes and puddles, all thoughts of energy conservation forgotten, all training and indoctrination forgotten, he was a human being at its most basic and right now he hadn’t a thought in his head other than saving this unknown element.

I can write more if anyone wants, but I'm happy writing this little bit.
Sergant Richand looked as it his squad, the congregation altogether ten of the most grizzled and hardened soldiers he'd have the pleasure of working with...

Well, nine of them anyway, the sergeant thought, staring down at the unblinking eyes of that annyoing Gasser, the krieger's rebreather hissing slowly with each intake of breath. Baring what she could do to target practice dummies and his long since expired patience, he hasn't really seen the Krieger do... anything. Which didn't set quite well with the Catachan, who, having grown up in a world so murderous that its a wonder the hunk of rock didn't just say "sod it" and dedicate itself to the bronzed incontinent, had a very short list of things he was comfortable with to begin with. Weren't Krieg's well sought after as the Emperor's bodycount or something equally depressing. Why would the administratium leave them here and not order them to some other hellhole to go choke a puppy or whatever dumb depressing shit Kriegers do? And leave him and the rest of the unlucky buggers to deal with the orks.

And, now that the Catachan was complaining he might as well go all the way. The regiment absorption makes a degree of sense, in the derangness the adminstratium always does. But things have been too... subdued. It's been a good week and not a single suicide charge has been ordered. No rush of the Ork camp, just reconnaissance and sniping jobs. Which, when it came to orks, translated to "Find the biggest guy, shoot him with a krak missle, and run like hell". High command was waiting for something, and Richand doubted it was a contingent of the Order of Overflowing Bounty coming to wish the boys in boots a enthusiastic thank you for a job well done. Whatever was happening, it was probbably going to end with something shooting at him...

Where was he again? Oh right, the sergeant looked down on the short krieger staring at him, blackened greatcoat immaculantly kept in the windswept wastelands of the planet.
The sergeant took a deep breath. "Krieger, you are aware we have been given a reconossiance mission."
The kriger nodded. Good, that's step one.
"And, dear private, on a scale of one through ten, how prepared are you to leave?"

Aspiring writers are always welcome here. Welcome to the love and krieg thread. Feedback later when I have time.
(...dont know why i did that.)

"High confidence sir." The Krieger said, as emotionless as... well never if Richand thought about it. When serving alongside other regiments they always called the Kriegers automotons, but in the span of 2 days he's watched this single one have three nervous breakdowns... Maybe they just send defective soldiers to this planet like some Mechanicus Holy Reincarnation Pile.

Richand smiled. "Okay that's good, really lovely, fantastic even. I see you got your gun lovely, and your shovel, we can't be without that we may need to build a sand castle after all but there is a small problem just a courtesy really." Richand took a deep breath. "WHY IN THE EMPEROR'S ROTTING TESTICLES DO YOU THINK A SHINY GREAT COAT WOULD HELP IN A SCOUTING MISSION?"

Mary sniggered as the Krieger withdrew her primer, unaffected by the outburst. "But, sir, uniform regulations clearly states that-"

"Regulation zero of the Uplifting primer, the sergeant is always right." Tear retorted, pulling out her own book and showing her the last page. "Look."

"...You wrote that." The krieger said, red lenses peering at the spiderlike scrawl that says "Listen to the sargent". "You even mispelt sergeant."

Richand glared at the Krieger, doing his best to hide his smirk, 'finally got you ya little bugger' the nco thought to himself as he head out his hand. "Mary, your primer if you will."

The vox operator grinned, the bearded man pulling the manual from his satchel and tossing it to the sergeant who flipped to the back of that book as well.

"See?" Upon the last page of that book was the same misspelled rule. "That's two books to one, that means your books the bad copy."

The krieger looked at their book, lenses unblinking as they look back at the two defaced primers the sergeant was holding.
They TECHNICALLY was right, he did right it, but he didn't just write it on his own book but everyone in his command, and a few others when they left their book around. That way at least it would seem more like a publishing error and keep the commissar off his pistol hand for a bit while trying to route out a wild goose chase. It also worked great at throwing off the odd pdf recruit who thought they new everything because they beat up a hive ganger that one time.

The krieger was shuddering, as Richand's scowl turned into a more genuine frown. Shit he forgot the little robot had a sense of humor the same way he had shirts. "Hey, look, it's alright your new to the squad so I'll let you off with a warning about keeping defective books around." You plucked the primer out of her hands, the krieger's fists reflexively grasping at something that wasn't there anymore. "I'll get you a new copy while Harmond gets you into a more appropiate uniform." You nod to the Medicae who kneeled down to the shorter girl.
"Hi, I'm Harmond, it's my job to patch you up okay." The woman's smile turned to a frown as the shellshocked krieger ignored her.

"But... uniform regulation 61b-5 states..." the Krieg muttered, reciting passages off her book like they were holy litanies (Which, the sergeant had to concede, the book did have in chapter 3, Prayers for When it all Goes to Sod, but they certainly were not in the uniform section). "Um... hello?" Harmond waved a hand in front of the krieg, the private still motionless if not silent.

"Alright then suit yourself." Harmond, her patience at a limit picked up the girl, the veteran medicae easily slinging the inert krieger on her shoulder and setting out to switch the girl in a less "please shoot me" uniform.

Mary sniggered, elbowing Belchett, the shotgunner ignoring his enthusiastic companion. "Looks like our family's off to a big happy start eh Sarge?"

Richand ignored him, by the throne did he have work to do. He should have taken the commissars offer and got shot.
hey, just so you know. Please read your first sentence and tell me I'm not insane for gritting my teeth reading the grammar and spelling.

I see a tense wrong, I used the wrong write, 'a few others' should probbably read better as "a few who weren't." Which is a lot for one sentence yeah.

Least I used the right their.
all good, I just like to help people "right" better, self-editing and proofreading is fucking hard.
Oh I know, especially on my end cause I try to rush these.

Hopefully the more I do the less there will be. Practice and all that.
In a almost entirely unrelated note but still relevant to the thread, I've been wanting to do a Reverse Heresy story.

Not a "Chaos is the good guy and the emperor is evil" story, because that seems like something that would be incredibly dull if not pulled off expertly.

The idea is a much more simple "Flip the loyalist and traitor legions around" so the Word Bearers still wear the white and blue proudly while the Ultra Marines, bedecked and peeling gold and coated in false trophies, have renamed their chapter the Astartes Superior and serve Slaanesh who feeds their deranged hubris.

Would at least be a nifty writing challenge I think.
do it
I will read if you will write more.
I think that's at least partially been done before, though im not sure how well...

I saw discussions a couple months ago on some thread on how magnus decided to make himself and all his marines astropaths to prove his loyalty after the council (at nikea? the one that banned psykers), which made russ mad and he fell to khorne.

Though I think you could pull it off quite nicely, from what I've read of your stuff here
It warms my bitter heart to see someone admit they sperged out and apologize for it on /tg/. Good job anon.

[I'm curious about how bad it was you got thrown out of an LGS though.]
for you then anon. I'm going to be "mud" from now on. Just so I can't get a little coherence in my posts.
Breathing with considerable effort, 33a slumped to the ground close to the prone figure. Heaving air through his rebreather and trying to wipe the sweat from under his mask while still wearing it, 33-a tried to assess the figure but could not see it clearly through the grimy lenses. Sick of wiping the plexiglass with soiled hands 33-a did something most Krieger’s considered unthinkable, with his muddy hands he reached up and removed his mask and with a sickening squelch it came free. 33-a sucked in a lungful of freezing cold air and immediately gagged at his own stench, when he mastered his urge to void precious nutrients, 33-a pondered on how effective the masks where in their task and after a span turned to the task at hand. With a quick eye that belied just how fatigued he really was, 33-a looked at the object of his insanity and stifling a sudden swell of disappointment he saw that at first glance the figure appeared to be male and possessing of a slim, weak build. He would be absolutely useless in the struggle to come even if he did survive. He looked at the figure for an undeterminable amount of time, no real feeling rose within him and as he sat it dawned on him that despite the runty look of the kinder, the boy figure was indeed a human. 33-a rocked on his heels and wondered what he was going to do, fire was out of the question and shelter would have to be created and as he cogitated, all thought of his own condition ceased to exist and the survival and wellbeing of this….child took over.
what's going to happend to the salamanders ? Follow the path of "might make right" all the way to khorne worship ? I wonder what would turn Vulkan against the imperium though
Sounds like "Dornian Heresy" ....
Make the blood angels khorne worshipers.
Beaten brass and armour coated in foul blood.
I have some around that could be interesting to you, anon.
It's not a complete swap, Ultras and SoH stayed vanilla.
Krig as a father figure? Should be interesting.
I've always seen it half done. Where like Sanginour goes crazy but the World Eaters still fall or something.

What is the one chaos god nice enough for the Salamanders?

Thats right papa nurgle. The idea being that in hope of providing solace to the people of Nocturne during the times of trial, this time excraberated by a mysterious plague. The Salamanders were lead astray with false promises that the Emperor's Chlidren had the cure to such things already but were withholding it due to its arcaneotechery. In order to protect his planet from extinction, the salamenders eventually fell to Nurgle.

It is only years after Sanguinor was slain by the Emperor do they learn the real originator of the plague was from within the same chapters they fought alongside, but by then it was too late to regret.

They wade into battle with plaguebelchers, modified flamer that spew a ordanied mixture of puss and tumors that grows from the flesh just as surely as any promethium mix ordained by any preacher.

Blood Angels are the Black Legion alternatives so they worship chaos undivded.

Space wolves are khorne though.

Tzeeenech is hard, debating between the white scars who were known for shamenry and the dark angels.
The interesting thing about writing a flip, or atleast simply planning for it is that the chaos legions were pretty much damned as soon as they hit pen, which is obvious because the Thousand sons and others were litterally created to be "X evil legion" so was to make them good can be tricky.

So far I think I got something for the eaters though.

Basically the big turning point was the Emperor, rather then stealing Angron from Nuceria and denying him his death in glory, the Emperor shrugged and deployed a company of the XIIth Legion. This completely switched the bath that slaughter would have gone because space marines are hard to deal with the best of times, and nigh invincible when Deepstriked in a middle of a already contested melee, and you never dealt with anything in power armor before.

This considerably improved Angron's mood, who was a decent enough fellow on Numeria, enough to refuse to slaughter people in the gladiator ring and try to crusade for freedom on his own moral leanings. Also cause, like Russ, many of his City Eaters did get to serve in his new legion, either as serfs or having made the perilous ascension. He still made the others wear the nails, but it was more a test of their own morals. The reasoning being, even when driven to crave blood he knew when to stay his hand, and the nails represented a test of this.

This eventually developed into a specific challenge in induction where, upon fighting wave after wave of enemies they face a nonarmed opponent, who they are supposed to recognize and refuse to fight even under orders. Those who fail to usually lose because said unarmored opponent is a member of the Honor guard and can easy wrestle a neophyte with a chainaxe to the floor. Said failures are then thrown into the death company, to be sent at people like living artillery, with simillarly expected bodycounts.
ugly color scheme
The Nails did have a secondary use however, a side affect caused them to force wearers great pain when near a psyker, while mostly a annoyance at best and a severe issue at worst during the Great Crusade, having almost lead to many bloody altercations with the Thousand sons, it was invaluable during the heresy and afterward.
Through training, this agony in the face of the witch could be honed to let the Eaters, like the war hounds they were formerly named, literally sniff out warp taint, a invaluable quality for the Ordo Malleus, who frequently request the legions aid for this exact reason.

Angron did not survive the heresy, having been damned long ago by his nails. When Logar offered to seek help for the aliment, Angron refused, contiuing their pursuit over traitor Gulliman who sought to corrupt and solidify his holdings over Ultramar. The apostate emperor more concerned with hoarding is 500 system throne then such trifling pursuits as aiding the other heretics.
During the battle of Ultramar, Lorgar witnessed Angrons heroic last stand against the demon primarch, Gulliman dedicating himself fully to Slaanesh in order to deny the Emperor the kingdom the primarch so wrongfully thought his.
However this final gambit was matched, for even as Gulliman overpowered Angron, Angron pulled his final gambit, detonating serveral meltabombs around himself in a act of selflessness that was alien to the heretical primarch.

Upon this sacrifice only Gorechild remained to note the two primarchs, Gulliman having been blasted to the warp. Gorechild is too this day a among the most hallowed relics of the chapter, it is claimed all who use it are guaranteed glory in the battle and doomed a early death.

And thats about it for them. They are still very much so a close assault regiment, who, in addition to their friendship with the Word Bearers, frequently pal around with the Death Guard and Iron Warriors as the Empire's shit cleaners.
Easilly the most tricky part about this is how overwhelmingly detailed the Horus herasy is now, meaning there is so much for me to get horribly wrong even in a au that I run the risk of spiraling into nonsense at a moments notice.

They do atleast make custom paints in dow.
Das Bump
Im having a insanely unnecessarily difficult time figuring out this regiment stuff, God Emperor guy, help.
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updates n grammar corrections. Next up is Cultist-chan.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to stating Krieg-chan!
I noticed other threads input.

Why choking?
closest thing we could find to a krieg related dislike that didnt involve something obtuse like heresy or chaos
I thought "Bare skin" was a good one.
Something silly, but she's wearing a skull plate on her mask. Skull plates are only worn by Grenadiers and Quartermaster Revenants. An Engineer shouldn't be wearing one.
<.< Did i glue the wrong heads on my troops. Fuck.
her thighs are exposed, also boob window. In just about all of her art
Well that sounds like poor planning on everyones part. I thought the boob window was some machine piece.
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You thought that was a machine part? Oh my!
Fine fine. Poor 88c.
Most likely, if you have the skull plates on the Engineers.
The skull plate is both a practical piece of armor, and a symbol of sacrifice. For example, Guardsmen being brought up into the ranks of Grenadiers typically wear them as protection against shrapnel when advancing into enemy fire/artillery fire. They also wear them as a symbol of sacrifice, to show that they are already dead men walking.

On the flip side, it is far more symbolic on the Quartermaster Revenant over the Grenadier. This Quartermaster Revenant, over the regularly Quartermaster, tends to perform last rites and "frees" Guardsmen from their debt to Krieg, while offering minimal protection since they act in a role more aligned to supporting general infantry.

And that is as good as my wordsmithery gets.
Could be fun to watch, its always a good time to watch the Smurfs take the piss.
Ohhh, papa Krieger, this should be good.
Its a great idea...just for the love of god check you spelling mistakes.
BataaviAnon, where are you!?
If I actually had any 40k friends who were also interested in writefaggotry I'd look for a editor believe you me. As it is the scope of things can often be overwhelming being right, literate, AND interesting. I've only gotten into writing publicly very recently (In fact my first real writing was in mid october) so a lot of this is very new to me.

I'm hoping time improves me, but we will just have to see.

I will make sure to have the pages of all the relevant info like how to spell Roboute Guilliman and other 40k words in the future, and I'm not going to make anyone endure the Sanguinor heresy until I am DAMN sure I can say "Oh this happened" without someone who knows up from down having to go "That's a load of crock."

Which may be a while. Till then I will keep people posted on lore ideas I had just to make sure if I am as right as I think I am.
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Since yall didnt drown us in HERESY memes, we were wondering if youd like to help stat some other warhammer gals? Currently workin on the /tg/ chaos mascot, Cultist-chan
Max Tech gift: Retainer- Removes her accent.

4 lust
-con: Doesn't actually KNOW what sex is.
-con: Spaeks in hwa infweal twunge of KAY-OS
I'm gonna leave this here
-Her speech impediment is annoying. Like, super annoying. You sure you're into something that sounds so maddening?
- You sure you want to try Oral with that set of teeth? I mean, I know you're a space marine so it'll grow back, but...

Fetish- dominance. She wants to capture you for chaos.
I just had a probably stupid story idea. What would happen if a Krieger got shunted out of the 40kverse while fighting some Tzeentch fueled bullshit, and gets flung to some legit NobleBright fantasy world, how would he be able to react and how would its denizens react to him? He just pops out of a screaming demonic throat pussy thing in the middle of some nobles palace or something, the world also has other humanoid creatures in their world, like cat people an the like. What would the be the first thing done when he shows up, and the craziness that ensues afterwards? Does some mind mage come meet him in the dungeon and "takes a dive" into the suspicious persons mind, and does he even survive it, would he try to get the Krieger executed on the spot?
Ok thanks anon

I am reminded of shit I read years ago, though my memory is vague. Basic premise was that a korpsman gets shat out in the Dc universe after fucking up a chaos sorcerers ritual.

Also i'll just say that i can only imagine the damage a Grenadier could do with a melta or a hellgun in a setting that hasn't even figured out firearms yet. True i guess it really isn't that much more potent than magic, but still.
Fetish-cuddle fucking
Fetish-mating press
Used to being a literal toy for Chaos and its allies, she isn't used to having a normal relationship, and Slannesh is having a phase this week so shes/he/it is fine with that. PRAISE SLANNESHMISS!
Got a link to that story if its finished? And I can only see this Grenadier having a Hellgun as it was picked up from the guy ahead of him, sense he would have essentially unlimited ammo and would die of old age before he needs to have it repaired, he could fight...for a long ass time. Although if they can keep him calm enough to not go on a purging spree, I can imagine him making it his own little Teranis. Also a noblebright world could have guns, it might be some world spanning empire, like the britts or something.

Didn't finish, and the premise was kinda shit. He gets captured by the league and then they convince him to follow their rules because BATMAN! So no, no purging. Also, he doesn't even have a Lasgun let alone a Hellgun.

It was actually just getting good when the author stopped writing. I won't spoil anything, but the purging was on the way, and things were about to get way more 40k.

If you still want I can go try and dig it up, I can probably find it again if I take a minute to look.

You are correct in that there could be guns, its just the talk of mages and dungeons made me think classic fantasy dnd type world.
Its NOBLEBRIGHT fantasy, could be damn near anything under clockwork world. And the best part is, Squats could be real again.
I hesitate to ask you to dig it up, because my OCD absolutely hates unfinished stories. But if its at least pretty long I wouldn't mind taking up my time with it. Thank you very much.
Is that the Goblin Slayer's backstory?
I don't know, who is the goblin slayer?
From my understanding, he's a rather powerful adventurer who, despite his skill, autistically obsesses over killing Goblins, which are a low end threat.

He's very methodical and remorseless about it even if the job gets grey, and is just, really really obsessed with killing goblins.
Neat, never heard of him, know where I can find more?
It's a manga.

http://mangafox. (notspam) me/manga/goblin_slayer/
huh, found something to read, sweat.
It's pretty cringy, but to each his own.
Meh, I'm waiting on some info to read a Guard in Dc world fanfic and it wasn't even complete.
Maybe go grab a good book and read that? There's a ton of great books in the world, anon.
I primarily read Kaguya and Miss Black General.

I think that explains a lot of what I write to be honest.
I have plenty of books, I just read all of them and I'm a poorfag...kinda why I'm here actually.
Another idea i seen is that Angron dies in that fight and leadership is passed to Kharn who at the time was more reasonable then Angron was.
Gutenburg Project has a lot of free books for you, fellow poorfag. Just throwing out options, since you seem in need of them.

Well if you want it...here you go, but i really don't recommend it.

It would have made the World Eaters much more friendly to be denied the nails but I feel like that may be a bit of a cop out if I do "Reverse heresy".

Though I do know some random pieces. Like

The Eaters, the Warriors, and the Death Guard work like the shattered legion, sharing a bound based on how shattered their numbers were and having already united on being the Emperor's muckwrackers. None of the legions truely had glory, overshadowed by legions who ultimately proved less worthy.

Death Guard still field Destroyer Marines, which are veteran Devastator marines due to how far away you need to be to use them.

The Night Lords field Pertinent Engines, and recruit from the children of Penal Legions. They have a more somber note due to how Curze fundamentally died rejecting them, the Lords left shamed where many were honored.

The Codex Astartes is written by Alpharius, a twisting, contradictory mass of deliberate riddles and ingenious battle strategies, half of which are mutually exclusive to one another. The codex encourages lies over mere and a adaptability that would let the regiments handle the fracturing of their forces, a strategy many noted the Alpha Legion already had. There were protests among the legion, particularly the Lunar Wolves and Emperor's Children who were indignous about having to listen to anyone. Others bent easily, such as the Word Bearers who were already squabbling about doctrinal differences.

The Iron Warriors is the only group that exiles astartes. As in, not in a "throw you to the warp and hope you die" manner but "strip you of rank and power armor and sent you out to live as a 'normal' 7 foot tall man cause you suck at your job. A lot get picked up by the Mechanicus.
It improves to some degree in the later chapters.

A fan theory was put forth on here that the whole point of this series is to demonstrate just how different tabletop is from vidya. Everyone in the world except for GS assumes the world works like an mmo. Goblins are low-level monsters, adventurers are plentiful, etc.

Then for some reason everything changed, like all the main players suddenly stopped playing a vidya and started playing D&D(further evidence suggested based on the fact that they take out a copy of the 5e sheet in a chapter, which is cool) where supplies matter, and goblins react. It's basically the GM dropping Tucker's Kobolds on a bunch of low-level adventurers, then Goblin Slayer, played by an experienced player, has to save them all.

Also Goblin Slayer would make a great Inquisitor, or an Angry Marine.
This was implemented after Pertuabo learned that, upon suggesting Decimation of the ranks, that he would in fact get away with it. His goal was to see what value the Emperor truely did put in his "Finest" he was disappointed and used the exile to get a way out that he never found a way to use.

Perturabo vanished after the Heresy, reports say he looked at the blood staining the Logos, the corpses of his former brethren strewn about him and just walked out in the middle of the chaos of battle. No one knows where he went but random rumors of a giant inventor pop up here and there seemingly at random.

The Grey Knights officially do not exist, as do the Ordo Malleus. They instead simply hide amongs the Deathwatch as the Black Shields, the ranks hidden with actual black shields as well. When daemons become involved the formerly anonymous member of the killteam pulls out their Rosette and takes command of the job.

The Ordo Malleus hides among Xenos and Herectus for similar reasons and only the most stalwart of these inquisitors are inducted into the war against the great enemy. Officially Daemons and chaos are simply a xenos like the genestealers. Only the worthy learn how serious they really are.

Orks are the same. Why wouldn't they be?

The Iron Hands are key leaders in the Dark Mechanicus and specialize in daemon engines. Their hatred of the flesh prompts them into more severe usage of chaos then the Iron Warriors ever cared for, since the mutations were just as much a improvement over flesh as steel was.

And other tidbits here and there.
From what I've been told the thing is Goblin NESTS are much more dangerous then goblin attack parties, since only the weak get sent out to scavenge for food. Also because of the sheer numbers involved.

Its like that bugs life scene with the grass hopper.
(Dis is the ogryn thread and dat means dat you is Thudd, remenber dat cause da wotchmassa gets sore when you git it wrong

The grammer mangling this time is mostly intentional, Im trying to see if the stylistic choice is worth it. I'll drop it if it's not.)

It is sleep time now, you know it is, cuz all your mates in da barrack tent are already asleep, da kriegers just lying straight down and playing the stay still game like dey always do but this time on there backs. you wunder if dey ever even tried a proper snore like da shivilezed folks like yourself do. but dis time you cant really gripe about dat... well not that you should anyway because rumors are BAD THINGS... unless day PEOPLE WITH DA I want to know because dey take rumors VERY SERIOUSLY. you idly wonder if you ever gonna meet another one, da first one you met had a tray of sweets out for you and gave you a little shiny thing for being a good sport about it all when you fought does spiky gits with Ciggy.

but dey aren't important... well dey are cause everyones important but dats not what you meant. dey arent a now important

the now important was of course Fifteehate, now Fifteehate often did dat little hand clench of hers dat said she was havin a bad day but dat made sense because she was in the SMALL with you and you cant blame anyone for being glum about being in the big small, its dark dere.

But at da latrines she slouched, and none of da people in dis regiment slouch... well you slouch... and rusty slouches... and da commissah when she doesnt know your looking... but dey dont slouch AND wear a gasmask.

you can tell because you are lying down in a tent full of them and dey arent even slouching when sleeping, you could pick dem up turn dem upright and theyd stay dere like your ma's lawn terrain squats

so da fact dat a krieger slouched is bad, very bed, probbably da worst thing you can think of, but your sure the commissah and de others would disagree but they arent clever like you, their worst things they can think of are silly things like does skelly mates but you cant imagine why. dey just trying to kill you, lots of things do that

so it was, as usual all up to you to set things right. well not usual usually you have ciggy around.

You give everything a good think, now ciggy had all the plans but ciggy isnt here no more. but you knew ciggy better den anyone so maybe if you just thought like ciggy youd get a good plan like he did.

you close your eyes doing your best to admire your extra little old buddy, the ratling coming up to your knee and biting a unlit lho. "Alright mate, tell ol Cig what als ya."

"Well ciggy," you start, ignoring the rustling around you, dis reqires concen...da fokus fing, like da sykers talk bout. "da fing is, dere is dis girl."

"Hold on," the apparition raises his eyebrow, the lho falling to the floor. "When did you get concerned about girls?" The apparition scratched his head. "If I wasn't dead and you weren't as dumb as the boots you wear there is a book I had for this moment."

You blink. "I dunt get it? dis is bout a friend see?"

"Sure lad," The appratation rolled its eyes, blue marbles floating in empty sockets (Cause he was a ghost see? he'd have to be all spooky like) "you and every other squaddie who finds out the sisters are a few tents down." da ghost shook his head. "Nothing puts a fire to them like setting fire to other people. Made the whole Icarti VI thing worth it right Thudd?"

"...putting fire to the sisters is bad." You say, desperately latching onto the only thing you understood from that sentence.
The fake ghost frowned. "Right mate, sorry bout that, been awhile since I got shot and all, forget you aren't like the others." The ghost shrugged. "So, girl problems. Lay them on me."

you nod, thankful things are bout to get done. "So Fifteehate seems really-"

"Cut, pause." The ratling interrupted again. "58? A krieger? They have WOMEN?"

You shrug. "Yup. Lots a dem."

The ratling frowned. "Shoot lost a bet. Continue."

you nod you know how big ciggy takes his bets poor guy probbably lost a bunch of stuff he liked... wait do dead have stuff like dat... youll ask later

"kay so she's really down because none of da regiments like dem. something about being clean." you frown. "But dey keep really good care of der uniforms, even ough we are surronded by dirty they are never dirty."

The ratling sighed. "It's a metaphor mate, they aren't really dirty."

"me...ta...phor?" you sound da word out trying to make sense of the whole thing

"Like a story, a happy lie. It's not true." Ciggy said as you nodded, dat made a little sense.

"Look, Krieger's, far as I know them, do not have fun. Ever. They don't even think they deserve it. Some tart went loony on them once and the whole thing went to pot." The ratling said, fiddling with his fingers in some imaginary tally.

"If what I heard is true the entire place went to complete shit and the whole lot of them went mad about it. Something about some eternal debt they had to pay. You remember John right?"

You nod, he was in da guard cause his father did somefin bad and became a teacup. "so dey feel bad cause there dad?"

The ratling nodded. "Close enough."

you shake your head. "But John jumped on a grenade, I don't want fifteehate to off herself cause of her pa. what should I do."

The ratling thought... "I don't know."
ciggy's face twisted into a grimace, he didn't like not knowing. "Normally I know just the trick to make someone happy, bottle of amsec, some lho, a few data slates of mine but the kriegers... I've never seen one respond to anything, conversation, sacrifice, beer, company, and none of my mates had either. I don't think they like being happy, like the time you got sour cause we got a medal for that castle right?"

you frowned. "It wasn't fair, we just shot things, da rest of the squad shoulda got one."

Ciggy nodded. "But none of the squad was alive to get it. It's like that. You can't just give there problems away."

You nod. "So if dey don't think dey deserved it... what if... I got them something so dat dey deserved it?"

The ratling blinked. "What?"

you nod. "danks ciggy." you wave as ciggy fades off to whatever fake things go when dey stop being not real, extra not real land? home?

you open your eyes staring at a several pairs of red staring at you, da kriegs regarding you curiously.

"Inquiry." One of the krieger began. "Who is ciggy?"

You sigh, you did it again, you mixed your thinky words with your talky words again.

Thats that.
Good stuff as always. I like thinking about two fronts in the same conflict dealing with happy little lunacies.
Thank you very much.
I have an addiction to bad online stories, I like being here.
Father Krieg continued from >>51455072

The child was barely moving, 33-a had erected a small lean-to against a large bush, the base had been surprisingly dry considering the near constant rainfall on this desolate planet and now here he was, with a small weak child and a bitter feeling of resentment. In all the emperors infinite wisdom why had he chosen 33-a to find this child? Why him out of all the possible people to save a child? At this point 33-a was convinced he had been tasked with the care of this small person, his cold rationality and discipline had slid back into place after his mad slog through the grime and now he was thinking on a means to ensure this kinder’s continued existence. The child was obviously a feral tribes spawn and by the looks of him had been kicked out from the group for being a runty and weak specimen. He could not think of anything else he could do for the child, he had already provided shelter, but the kinder would need more than shelter to live and 33-a was stumped. As he pondered this problem the body began to stir, gently at first but with steadily gaining momentum. With a sudden jerk the child sat up, and with wide eyes silently looked at the unmasked face of the Krieger, and what the child saw was the gaunt face of a man barely past puberty with cold green eyes that seemed to be made of glass, a shock of mousy brown hair covered his thick eyebrows and a large hawkish nose sat above a thin lipped mouth and cleft chin. Staring at the now awake child in equal silence, 33-a assessed again the face that was now burned into his brain, a small angular face containing within it a small pointed nose, eyes as golden as a space marines aquila and a full mouth framed by high cheekbones, above it all was dark wiry hair that reminded 33-a of the long coats of the attack dogs kept by some guardsmen.
In the split spans it took for this exchange to occur the child was a blur of movement, and before the Krieger could react the child was away into the rain, as the Krieger sprinted through the gale after the fleeing child he did a quick readjustment of the child’s usefulness. The child was certainly quick on his feet, judging by the increasing distance between the man and the child, quick reaction to unknown stimulus was also a good sign of a suspicious mind and the flight response could be replaced with a quick fight response with proper training, the child who he thought had a thin weak frame was actually a bundle of sinew and endurance muscle, a being used to running from larger foe. With an increasing….optimism…the Krieger continued to jog after the kinder, he could afford to be patient and he was rewarded a mere 5 hours later as the child had finally stopped running.
Catching up to the stationary figure the Krieger saw that the boy child had a light covering of sweat and was drawing steady even breaths despite the long chase, looking at him beadily the child spoke in a wary, quiet voice “no one has ever chased me as long as you have” moving a little closer the child spoke again “do you want to play again?”. Breathing more regularly after the chase had ended 33-a squatted to the child’s face level and after a pause said in a clipped and throaty rasp “If you come with me, I promise we can play as much as you like. Boy child will you willing lend your body and soul to the god-emperor in his crusade across the galaxy? Will you lay down your life in his service? If you will then come with me and be saved by his cleansing light.” With a look of incomprehension the child squinted at him and stated simply “I don’t understand, what's an emper? and I'll only come with you if you catch me" and quick as a flash the boy was off again. Left squatting in the mud the Krieger gave as close to a look of resignation as a Krieger could manage, a slight tightness in the eyes and a tensing of the body was all that gave away the fact that 33-a was now seriously, seriously questioning the god emperors faith in him. With a slight exhale he was in pursuit.
that'll do me for tonight. Let me know if you guys dig it or not. But I'm having alot of fun
Where the hell is batavi anon?
He's either got real-life shit going on or writing, anon. Give him time.

Personally, I'm actually looking forward to Proctor's stuff more. Batavi's good, but not exactly my style.
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I like it, keep it up.
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F Cadia and Creed. Least we still have Krieg.
So am I in reading it. A very fun read.
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The fuck you say?
I like it too
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My heartstrings quiver in anticipation as well. I'm sure he will be along.

I'm glad you fancy my work, though it's shaping up to be a slow burn fanfic with a tone that is barely warhammer. More coming this evening anyway.

For the sake of discussion so as not to just have empty bumps, what is it about the proctors work thst appeals to you more? What do you like about both? What do you dislike? Predictions for the future etc. Questions posed to all anons not this just guy, though I am particularly interested in his answers I will admit.
No one every says "Geeze where is Mimikyu"
That's because you have the bad habit of actually posting non story posts and being around in thread. Shame on you.
Holy shit....is Thudd a latent psyker or is her just able to see dead people? BECAUSE THAT IS AWESOME! I thought ciggy was a human, not a ratling, but whatever.
I'm not sure, really. I guess a busty cog-girl appeals to me more as a protagonist than a grizzled veteran. I realise Batavi's trying to convey drama and the protag's sense of loss, but it just feels rather angsty to me.

I mentioned writing style, and I can't really explain a preference on that subject.

I am looking forward to seeing how Medicae gets wifed, however.

Angsty over all, or just the last little bit? Cause yeah I agree we've been stuck with angst for a while, but personally I think it makes sense. He's not doing a fantastic job handling it, but I've seen worse, and in my opinion it takes a certain bravery to try and depict something like that at all. And in any case it looks like we are pulling out of the angst period, between Baiman and the Medicae I think Rochas got the message.

I can see why a busty tech priestess appeals to you. Appeals to me a lot too, but I do love me a woman with a nice ass, and unless I've misunderstood under that greatcoat Medicae has a very nice ass.
Ciggy was always meant to be a ratling, the idea was that i thought it would be interesting to have two abhumans field together, Thudd's well over three times Ciggy's height meaning that Ciggy can just strap himself to Thudd's back and use the Ogryn as moving cover.

It never became relevant because Ciggy is one of the wars many casualties against the now snuffed heretic forces.

As for your question... I don't know, Thudd was just trying to imagine what his mate would say and did a much better job then I thought he would.

I once read (But I dont know if it is true) that there is a rogue trader who was so kind to his crew they gladly serve him well past death. But for all I know Thudd just views Ciggy so highly he can remember stuff better if he thinks someone else is doing it.

Or Thudd truly is a latent psyker, it would explain a few things.
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Writing loss is hard, especially the survivors guilt experienced by soldiers who return home. It's less a problem in emergency medicine, where patients are the ones dying, instead of our coworkers. Barring the occasional officer fatality of course.

As for Medicae, I believe she was described in the shower scene as having a nice ass. Which of course means good hips and a pelvic girdle fit for the birthing of many strong children.
I love the original love and krieg, I feel most of the other writefags in the thread portray krieg as more social autists than inhuman conditioned from birth killing machines who try to understand life and i feel the autistic krieg arent appealing to me at all. Batavi is closer to what I like about the krieg and writefaggotry about the krieg, and coggirl seemed naive and unrobotic so i lost interest. I am only here for him and I liked the hospitaler stuff.
What about the first love and krieg said "Inhuman killing machine"?
terranis, their propensity to trench always ready for war, strict adherance to war readiness at all times violent tendencies, she hits him with her rifle 3 or four times, etc.
Not to mention most activities involved war preparation or drilling
Also the reason terranis was special was that krieg were able to function normally in a perfect blend of war preparation and civillian life, they are nothing but soldiers
So... they arent tsundere enough?
no, they are too human, too social. They are on the dysfunctional level of a shut in.
Not fucked up brainwashed soldier grimdark shit i love, but dude im probably the only one who thinks this, other people certainly like your and others stuff im just a grumpy dude who likes his krieg super grimdark and shit, disregard me.

But the krieg in the original love and krieg were basically caricatures. Essentially just cosplayers whose only quirk was not talking. I would argue mimikyu is closer to the original love and krieg kriegers than any other author in the thread. Please note mimikyu I don't meant that as a insult.
Regentropen, trench building, uber-religion, perpetual fortification, a need for orders at all times, i feel there was more than just dont talk but i digress
I'm not defending myself here actually I am very content with knowing how my kriegers turned out.

I havent done anything dark yet so I can get not being dark. I have a bullshit excuse for it but I know 88c is not the bubbling pit of turmoil. She's had four comical mental breakdowns including a literal blue screen over the prospect of changing uniforms.

But Love and Krieg one was practically saccharine. In my opinion the Medicae and Alpha are more grim then #6345 who mostly quirkly redecorates houses.

Not to say the stories aren't good, I mean thats why we are here. I just, do not see where you are going at all.
No trust me I can see it. They'd probbably be building barricades and trenches in random places if it wasnt for the fact they actually were already in a millitary camp.
Did you link to the wrong post, because he didn't say anything along the lines of you need to defend your position?
The but dude part implied to me that he thought I was insulted.

Which I can see cause I easily am and if anyone is not doing the "Inhuman killing machine" thing very well its me. I'm assuring him that, despite me being pretty dramatic and easily insulted, that this is not one of those cases.
....I think your missing the point of, he didn't imply that or mention you bit. Jumping the gun like this and this>>51481078
shows either A)You are getting defensive for some reason(or no reason, as you make little sense just taking the piss out of comments not even directed or talking about you) or B)You are feeling left out on anyone trying to shitpost at you and feel the need to be a random faggot for lack of anything better to do. Now that I said this, it would actually be intelligent to respond in some way as you did here>>51481078
that is of course, if you can answer some direct question/comment that actually involves you. Any follow up to this?
Read the Dornian Heresy and (maybe) the Roboutian Heresy.
...You quoted the same thing twice.

But whatever I thought he was saying "I am not attacking you here." and was responding with "Rest assured I dont feel attacked".

But eh i tend to be obtuse so who knows maybe I am just imagining things.
Was the roboutian heresy not good or something?
You are imagining things. Your a namefag, if someone has a problem, they know to yell at you...or just in general as you respond anyways.
That's why I said "maybe." I found the Roboutian heresy to be a mixed bag. You have some really well thought out stuff that actually sounds pretty darn plausible and well written in there.
But then you have some dumb stuff like Dark Angels falling to Tzeentch, Blood Angels to Slaanesh and some other stuff that I found to be pretty contrived and not at all well-written.
As the chapters go on it gets much better written though.
Also spelling/grammar errors, while not plentiful, come up often enough that I got annoyed - but then again there were a few spelling/grammar errors in the greatest fanfiction ever written, "Warhammer 50k: The Shape of the Nightmare to Come," so I wouldn't write it off purely on that either.

For Dornian Heresy it's literally all good. However, you will have to look up the extra stuff yourself that isn't in the .pdf everyone seems to have read. Like the author wrote out the info for nearly all the legions but only a few made it into the .pdf so you're going to have to look around the bolthole a bit.
*Shrug* I don't have a job yet and the cars busted so I literally have little better to do then sit at home with notifications are on and look every time someone responds. It makes me excessively chatty.

I can see the dark angels falling to tzeentch on the basis of Tzeentch being the planner and the Dark angels being primarily defined by lies and deceit.

I'll go look though, I mean Im stealing ideas so any are as good as any other.
I guess I meant more that I didn't think many of the earlier chapters were well-written and/or contrived. Perhaps DA could fall to Tzeentch (I personally always saw them as Undivided given that the Fallen are), but Sanguinius falling to Slaanesh just because "I don't want to become khorne" struck me as kinda silly.
I think it starts getting good though at the World Eaters chapter and beyond though. Also Emperor's Children was alright
Favorite fanfic concerning alternate takes on the heresy I ever read advanced the theory that in universe, meaning the 40k we all know and love rather than in some alternate continuity, the "traitors" were actually the loyalists, and the real traitors were Sanguinus Russ and Gulliman.
>Warhammer 50k: The Shape of the Nightmare to Come
Are you up to date on Age of Dusk, the ongoing 60k one?
Horus didnt do nuffin, dey wuz warmassa
>what if master died instead of blaster
>the ongoing 60k one
I am but it's been so long, anon. I totally get that because he wrote an actual book about non-40k stuff he's pretty busy these days but god damn The Voyage of the Quilar Fleet is NOT a good place to end on! We need so much more...
No but literally the only problem with Lord Lucan's writing is that he doesn't seem to proofread his fucking stories. Like they're incredibly well-written and bring up tons of interesting ideas on what could happen following the dawn of the 41st millennium but even for all that he still seems to hate spellcheck/grammar checks.
I wish I understood.
We *have* been stuck on the Quilar Fleet for a long ass time. I was hoping we'd get some updates eventually, but it does seem dead right now. Maybe LL will return and deliver us some new content this year. i'm not hopeful though
I think I'm going to keep the alternate heresy thing to myself until I actually do something with it, so I don't end up dominating this thread more then i already do.

So...Can abhumans be psykers? I cant see why not but Ive never seen it done.
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>Ciggy can just strap himself to Thudd's back

You better have seen Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, I will be very disappointed in you if you haven't. Blaster is basically an Ogryn with a Ratling Heretek riding on his back
I haven't gotten to see a lot of things.

Though in this case I just didnt like the first mad max enough to watch the others. I was promised dystopia and it just kinda was a cop film.

I'll try to find it before feburary ends though.
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Im reading up on psykers and if I am not wrong daemons are immune to there own phenomena BUT the perils of the warp (At least in dark heresy). One of those being annihilation.

The chance is slight but there is a 0.85% possibility of a imperial guard facing a changer of ways who immediately disintegrates after spending millennia orchestrating its own summoning.
Well if i remember right the first mad max is before the complete breakdown of society.
Shit sux but there is still a semblance of order.
The Sergeant snorted. Initially he wasn't going to dignify Baiman with a response, but then a perverse desire came over him to have a bit of a laugh even if it was a joke only he would get. Rochas looked around to make sure the Medicae wasn't in earshot, he wouldn't want her to misunderstand and think he was outing her. When he saw that the coast was clear he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "Yep you caught me, found me the only girl in the regiment. Possibly the whole planet."

Baiman just rolled his eyes, but Rochas wasn't done yet. "Real fine looking gal too" He said as he waggled his eyebrows and moved his hands in front of him in the outline of an hourglass "Filled out in all the right places."

"Mmmhm" Lambert hummed. Incredulous, but apparently willing to play along. "And where did you meet this broad exactly?"

"Ran into her in the shower when she was starkers." He replied as his face split into a large grin. Knowing Baiman thought he was talking out his ass, and that he was therefore getting this past him, was a heady feeling. "Course she didn't seem to mind none."

"No of course not." The trooper said in a long suffering tone. "She was so captivated by your masculinity that she fell instantly and madly in love with you."

"Well I don't know about love." Rochas said as his smile got just the littlest bit bigger. "But she was awful fascinated by my dick."

"Really Rochas?" Lambert asked exasperatedly. "Really? I mean I know you're a big man, but bragging about it like some Juvie?"

At this point Rochas knew he really should stop, but he couldn't resist saying one last thing. "Can't keep her hands off me. Got a real soft touch. Knows how to take care of a man."

"Piss off sarge I ain't listening to your bullshit" Lambert replied. "Leave the bad jokes and yarns to Gelen. You suck at it. No way is anyone thick enough to believe you found yourself a willing woman on this rock."
(Waifu thread)

Tear sat waiting for the runty Krieger to come back. He'd have to figure out her name eventually.

No wait Krieger's don't have names do they? Rays of fuckin sunshine those kriegers, well since he's not going to bother with any stupid number thing he's going to have to make one up.

"Hey Mary?" Richand said, the bearded private looking up from his auspex.

"Yeah sarge?" His operator asked, cracked googles strapped to a mangy, soot coated mop of red hair.

The sarge lifted the lho stick out of his mouth, blowing a small cloud of smoke. "If you had a dog, and it was the kinda excitable shit that pissed all over your floor when you showed up, what would you call it?"

The operator frowned. "Is this about the Gassy? You've been dating for three days and your already on pet names?"

Richand sat up, watching the tent Harmond dragged the shellshocked krieger into. "It ain't like that, do you want to be ringing of serial numbers in the middle of a firefight? She gets a name."

Mary shrugged. "Why not Krieger?"

Sargent snorted. "Half of the regiment can go by krieger, if we lose ours and pick up the wrong one Unterbrechan would skin me alive."

"I like Mera." Belchett added, the catachan watching the clouds pass by as the dust of Kathas V swirled around him.

"What like the tank?" Mary said, raising a eyebrow at the private, who shrugged.

"It's a good tank." Belchett responded, his voice flat and disinterested. "Beats walking everywhere."

Richand sighed, noticing the tent flipping open, Harmond walking out, the medicae frowning and talking to a unseen krieger.

By the throne, Richand thought, she was...
It's been a crazy few days. I actually haven't had time to even read the thread (really looking forward to that actually, can't wait to see what the Proctor and Mimikyu have put out). I've been really busy and only able to grab a few minutes here and there to myself. I tried writing during a few of those, but i had written myself into a bit of a corner, and i was having a real hard time trying to write myself out of it. Honestly I am not at all happy with what I just posted, but it's good enough and i just needed to move on and get to posting before the thread died without me so much as dropping a line. Now that I've broken though a bit i can get to what i have planned out next in short order hopefully.

I'm willing to bet when i read through the thread i will find at least one or two people wondering where I had gone, possibly cursing my name and ancestry, to whom I can only say I am sorry. I didn't wanna just come in and say "working on it" and then not produce anything so I waited until I had something, but in retrospect that was a mistake and I probably should have shown my face a bit just to let people know I hadn't died or abandoned you all. So I'm sorry. I screwed up. In the future if circumstances make updating difficult I'll make sure to at least pop in to let you know I am alive.

I've got some time off tomorrow afternoon, which I intend to dedicate to writing for you all, so we should see a pretty big update if the muses are kind. Now I'm afraid I must sleep. I'm running on two hours and an unhealthy amount of caffeine and I need to be up early in the morning. Plus I can feel the crash coming. I apologize for the days of silence followed by only a single post, but I will make it up to you tomorrow.

Good night /tg/.
"Corporal Harmond." Richand said to the saluting woman. "Why is our newest member in our camo-suit?"

The krieger looked up at you, coated in a camo cloak, her armor laired with fake folliage and her face obscured by a collection of leaves that the sergeant new from experience were entirely transperant from the inside. Combined with her shortness, the newest member of Tear's squad looked all the world like a walking bush.

Harmond shrugged. "Sorry sir, but she insisted on wearing this. She took your camouflage order really seriously. "

You hear a slight rustle as the krieger turns to stare at you, her expression entirely unreadable due to the complete lack of a face. "Stealth achieved." The krieger stated, her voice devoid of the pride Richand would bet a weeks rations she was giddy with.

Richand coughed, fuck it these were orks they were dealing with, they probably didn't realize there weren't any bushes on the planet either. "Alright, good show krieger now pay attention."

The bush saluted you.

"Okay gassy things don't work like they do in the trenches. When we go out into the field there is no trench to hide in, so you can't go attacking the first thing you see. You shoot on my command and ONLY on my command do you got that?"

The krieger nodded, now came the tricky part.

"Alright krieger this is the most important part, everyone here has a name and even if your just a tagalong the devils have a reputation to uphold and that means we can't just throw 5309 or whatever on the squad listings. So you are going to have to have a name. Which means I have to give you one."

The krieger didn't nod this time, Richand biting down another sigh, the lass probably broke again.

"So from hence forth your name shall be..." Shoot he was coming up blank... lets see she had a shovel, that's useless. He can't exactly name her shorty, not unless the he was itching to get a pair of augmentic shins.
Richand looked up, noticing a small trail of steam emitting from the Krieger's rebreather unit. He wasn't paying attention, but apparently the krieger masks ran some complicated filtration system that could protect against radiation, contagions, blah blah blah, the kinda shit you'd find on there shitty planet. But as a side effect the masks some liquid component in the mask would be ejected as vapor when the wearer was agitated. Which, for this krieger, seemed to be all the time. Well that was close enough.

"...Misty?" The sergeant watched the bushwoman, looking for some sign of acknowledgement. It was a shitty ass name but he was stumped, what really mattered was whether or not his newest private had the gall to call him out on it.

Misty turned and walked away, calmly sitting down, looking all the world like a simple serene shrub. Well if someone didn't notice the billowing cloud of white smoke trailing upward. The newly named krieger sits there for a few seconds before standing back up, turning around and saluting.

"Acknowledged." Misty whispered, as you hand her her gearpack. You have to admit that Misty atleast was thorough enough to add the netting to this too so that the gear all but disappeared into her suit when worn.

"Alright then squad, what are you all laying about for. Move out!"
That name thing took to long for no reason and burnt me out, so im calling it.

It's also crazy late over here I need to stop going to bed at 3-5.
He didn't even mention that it was the biggest she's ever seen. (It was the only one she's seen but still..)
Well i would not say "Cursing you're name and ancestry" more like "Preparing a summoning ritual to bring you back" Without you we would not have any of the stories here so stop being so hard on yourself.

Miria had made it to the command area, but Amaranthine found her first.

Adept Rorken sighed as her nemesis rounded the corner, eyes narrowed and eyebrows twitching. "There you are! How dare you!?" Amaranthine stabbed an accusing finger.

Miria did not slow down. "W-walk and talk Amaranthine, I n-need to find someone."

Taken slightly aback, she started to huff after Miria. "Don't think I didn't understand your true intention by slaving all those sensor feeds to our colleagues! I am shocked and insulted that you would even suspect me using vital search and rescue equipment for personal gain!"

"Then you s-should have w-welcomed the help!" Miria spat back. "Passage t-two of The Book of Judgment s-says, if you have nothing to hide, you h-have nothing to f-fear!"

+How many times have I had that yelled at me before my door was kicked open and my room tossed for illicit pets? She always found them too.+ Miria sighed.

"Don't quote that at me, just because your mother was an Arbitrator doesn't make you one." Adept Bahal hissed.

"Not a-all of us had the good f-fortune to be born a no-nobleman's bastard Amaranthine. S-Some of our families actually had to work for our m-meals." Miria paused for a moment. "Or-or grow our own I guess."

The dark haired woman clenched her fist in rage. "You don't know my life Miria, at least you had...Throne I hate you so much."

The command area was an open air warren of trenches, populated by men speaking in variations of gothic so different they might as well be languages. She had thought former captain Graves' diction nigh incomprehensible, but her initial plan to ask for directions from some passerby was swiftly withering in her mind.

+At this point I'd take a Krieg, at least their Kriegmanish lilt is starting to get familiar.+

Miria noticed the grey coated soldiers were strangely absent in this section of the base. She was expecting general staff to have huge entourages and numerous aides, Colonel 209 and 111 should be here somewhere.

Amaranthine was getting redder and redder. "I could have handled the scans myself, or did you forget the gift I chose at the conclusion of our Xenobiology courses on the moon? I have a parallel processor augmetic! Managing that many data feeds, especially if the criteria is so narrow as a savior pod signature, would have been paltry for my implanted cogitators!"

Miria felt a pang of uncertainty crack her righteous indignation. "Y-you could have m-missed something. A dismounted person who a-abandoned their pod." She scanned down side trenches, desperately looking for some comprehensible signage or the glint of a gasmask lens. The walls of the embankments had been lined with some kind of color coding, but damned if Miria knew what they all stood for.

+Stupid meeting new people anxiety, I should just suck it up and walk up to one of these weird looking-Oh my God Emperor, is that a Ranger uniform?+

Miria and Amaranthine both stopped in their tracks, openly gawking as a woman in forest green and tan Pallasian Ranger corps fatigues walked past, carrying a dispatch valise. After a moment, the woman stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Amaranthine recovered first, assaying a respectful bow. "Forgive us um..."

"Master Sergeant." Miria, the militiaman's daughter whispered, eyeing the woman's rank tabs.

"...Master Sergeant." Amaranthine finished. "We did not expect to see anyone from home on this world."

"You are Pallasian Magi?" The woman asked, interested.

"A-adepts yes. We have y-yet to earn such title." Miria said. "M-may I ask you...do you k-know where the Krieg command t-tents are?"

"Yes. This way." She started off to the north.

As they walked, Adept Bahal reached out to grab Miria's arm. "The fact remains, you thought I was using those servo skulls to scan for thesis materials, instead of saving lives. My honor is besmirched Adept Rorken, it was not an accusation lost on our colleagues either."

"Y-you wanna fight? Just like we used to in year t-three? Find a quiet spot behind the culture tanks and have it out, like w-we're 12 again?" Miria laughed. "D-don't think th-the High Proctor is around to drag me off you t-this time. Mother taught me m-more than law passages remember?"

Amaranthine's eyes began to sparkle with wetness. "I...I thought you were willing to help me Miria. I don't understand...why you did that."

Miria shook her off. "Because y-you're a liar and a c-cheat." Then after a moment she added, "I p-promised I would help you with y-your extinction studies and I w-will, but just like you said, it's a one t-time thing."

Amaranthine looked away, surreptitiously wiping her brow with a sleeve, disguising it as ruffling through her hair. When she turned back, her face was reserved again, its usual disdainful self. "Fine."

When Miria and Amaranthine looked back ahead of them, the Ranger was staring at them both. The Master Sergeant raised a hand to her ear and spoke. "Good day sir. I believe I have found them."

A momentary pause while a distorted sound responded in her earpiece, while the two Mechanicum Adepts glanced quizzically at each other.

The Master Sergeant continued. "Yes sir. With a stutter, and arguing with each other the moment I saw them..."

"H-hey!" Miria said.

"...I understand sir. You may meet us in the Krieg command tent." The woman continued, ignoring her. "Yes sir. I will make sure they do not start fighting." She dropped her hand and looked over at the pair of Adepts. "This way please."

"What was-what?" Amaranthine narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"You are Miria Rorken and Amaranthine Bahal yes?" The Ranger queried.

"...Yes?" they both said after a moment.

"My commander is meeting us at your destination. Please follow." The Master Sergeant beckoned, heading away once more.

Miria trotted off after a moment of hesitation. "Wh-who is your commander?"

The Ranger's mouth twisted. "I am under strict orders to...not ruin the surprise."


The troupe proceeded in silence until they reached a shale colored longhouse style tent, of suitable size for a field hospital. In fact, as Miria looked about at the gurneys and tarped equipment about, she realized that was exactly the purpose it served. Alpha and several other Krieg Miria did not know were inside, sitting in folding camp chairs, before a large map table, evidently awaiting the arrival of their Colonel. All heads turned as the trio entered the dimness, but only Alpha stood up.

"Frau Enginseer Rorken. I did not expect you here." His hand opened and closed a few times, seeming to almost fidget, before he shoved them behind his back.

"Hello 301 Alpha, I h-had planned to come a-alone to speak with you, b-but I acquired company on the way." Miria glared at Amaranthine, starting to itch under the gaze of so many masks at one time, the effect was damn unnerving, en masse.

"I see." He said, remaining standing, hands clasped.

As the silence stretched, Miria glanced at the Ranger to see if she would explain herself, or introduce herself, or something. But the woman seemed content to hold up a tentpost, and pointedly consulted her chronometer, looking at no one. Amaranthine took a few steps forward and gave a bow to her own artillery commander from her Basilisk squadron, about two rows back, and received a slight inclination of the head in return.
My Sides




After a few moments more it became unbearable. "Y-your c-command tent is a h-hospital?" Miria blurted suddenly.

Alpha nodded. "Oberst 209 will lead from his Chimera once operations begin. A dedicated command tent is wasteful."


It looked like it would soon be fraught enough that even Amaranthine might come to her rescue, the raven haired woman turned back to Miria, opened her mouth as if about to speak, and then left it open, fixated on something behind Miria's head. Several of the Krieg in the room openly started, hands going to their hips.

*Ssssssssssssss...* "And how are my favorite young Hereteks? Still heedless as ever? I think Kraellen may yet have that aneuryism he's been threatening for about half a century now."

Tendrils of steam trailed past Miria's ear. She wheeled, coming face to face with the leering jaws of a skeletal Hormagaunt, its empty eye sockets filled with whirring lenses, teeth and breathing tubules along the sides of its head issuing narrow streams of vapor. Beneath, the green robes of a Magos Xenologis covered what was plainly a human form in only the most vague sense; thick and barrel shaped, with numerous sprouting armatures and tendrils of mechadendrites. Two mostly biological arms, pale as death, slid out from the bulging and writhing folds, spread wide.

*Sssss* "Do not just stand there children. It has been half a lifetime for you. And far too long for me besides." It said.

Alpha's hand was unbuckling his sidearm. "Identify yourse-"

"Master Heverian!" Miria and Amaranthine exclaimed in near unison, running to embrace him. The writhing mass put one arm and a few dendrites around each of them, puffs of steaming mirth squirting in sequential gouts from its skeletal head.

Heverian's body creaked under the dual impact. "Careful children, you are a fair bit larger than I remember! It would not do to topple me over in front of your friends!"
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>tfw you got mad game but the squad don't believe you.


Pshh, I vanished for a week. Get on my negligence level scrub.


The name fits pretty damn good. Sometimes you just have to step away, sleep on it, take shit. That stuff.
Wait, he came back?? What am I going to do with this damn sacrificial lamb now!?
Roast it in the oven, duh
We were using lambs? Well this is going make a awkward conversation.
Oh no. Was I the only one to get a lamb?? Such shame!

>Listen uh, the write fag came back soooo....yeah. We don't need to sacrifice you to the dark gods to summon him anymore.
>So how's about I let you up off that alter and bring you some clothes, and in exhange for sparing your life you don't call the cops.
>That sound like a pretty decent deal? I think it is.
Hmmm.... I'm thinking of posting my own story, have had it rattling around in my head since 2.0 thread... 3? 4?

Point is, I've had the idea for a while. And I was thinking of having it situated before the original L&K series, as a way to explain some of their... Non-Krieger eccentricities.

The major problem is my job is... Time consuming. If you thought Bavati-Anon's been bad, wew lad; truly the ride never ends.

That doesn't mean I won't try, though.

Would anyone be willing to put up with my attempt?

More the merrier.
Shoot, anon. I love reading writefaggery about Kriegers
Remember to cliff hanger, bigger the better.

So are we going to find out who actually wrote the dating website?
>they probably didn't realize there weren't any bushes on the planet either.
gave me a giggle
Hell yeah Rochas
>"Master Heverian!" Miria and Amaranthine exclaimed in near unison, running to embrace him. The writhing mass put one arm and a few dendrites around each of them, puffs of steaming mirth squirting in sequential gouts from its skeletal head.
das cute
Probably not, I was thinking a little earlier than that, explaining how they achieved their... interesting adaptations to civilian structures.
Bump from nine
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I thought that was just a german stereotype?
He does have a point though. How could a bar support a heavy artillery piece, let alone the force produced when it fires?
They actually specifically addressed that:

Also, because there is now a basilisk on my roof, the inside of my bar is now revamped. There's eight times the support pillars, all the wood has been replaced with steel, and apparently my tables can now convert into cover shields, at the press of a button.

"All right" Rochas laughed. "I guess I was laying it on a bit thick. No need to get your panties in a twist."

Baiman grunted and said. "It's insulting, you thinking I would fall for that."

"Oh come on" the sergeant replied. "It was just a little laugh, don't take it personal."

The one armed trooper didn't say anything, and Rochas worried he may have actually offended the man, but after a moment Baiman passed him his copy of the primer. More importantly he was giving him the "alternative reading material" that he kept hidden in it, which told Rochas all was forgiven. Honestly Rochas wasn't terribly interested in giving it a look at the moment, but he spent some time and thumbed through it to be courteous and show that he had gotten the message before he handed it back to the other man with a smile and left the hospital.

On his way out he told an orderly he was going to be a while, an hour or two maybe. There wasn't anywhere specific he wanted to go or anything he had to do per se, he just wanted to be moving. He ended up pushing himself along the outside perimeter of the depot in his wheel chair and looking out at the surrounding landscape. He could see where the ground had been carved up by the trench networks, but beyond that it was a field of green. In the distance he could see wooded mountains. He found himself looking up at the sky. That blue ceiling and the meandering white puffs that danced across it fascinated him.

It was the first time he really stopped to appreciate it all. He'd spent most of his life in hives. Either on Batavi or on Trieste. When he had come to this planet and moved into the trenches the Kriegers had dug he'd been too busy cursing the cold and the wet and the mud to look at the beauty around him, but now it seemed to hit him all at once.

He breathed deep. The air was clean and crisp. It didn't smell like chemicals and unwashed bodies, and it didn't burn going down. The land was alive around him. It was beautiful.

It was beautiful, and it was theirs. It was their land now. Their clean air. Their green hills. Their mountains and valleys. Their virgin woodlands. He stayed there for some time content to just breathe deep and appreciate the landscape around him. He stayed so long the sky began to tint orange and red as the star the planet orbited passed over the horizon. He took a moment to appreciate the colorful patterns painted across the sky and the sight of the sun descending behind the distant mountains before turning around and pushing himself back to the hospital. It wouldn't do to be out after the sun set, he was probably late as it was already.
When he got back he was given a very pointed look by an orderly and told to be a bit more prompt in the future.

His life in the hospital settled into routine. He'd joke with Baiman, and the Medicae would come around and clean his wound and replace the bandages. He was given pills and regular injections. Time passed. He saw Gelen and Eikenborn occasionally. The lieutenant stopped by once, and every day he made excursions out of the hospital to breathe fresh air and appreciate their new world. He never got used to the Medicae helping him bathe. He'd distract himself by asking about her day, or babbling about something or other until the ordeal was over. Honestly he did most of the talking, but she was very attentive, and he appreciated that.

Weeks passed and turned to months, and after he had been in the hospital for almost four months the doctor declared him sufficiently healed to begin therapy. That was a special kind of hell for Rochas, learning to walk again and being dependent on a cane to prop him up. He was absolutely determined to get over it and he made rapid progress as he pushed himself as far as the Medicae would allow. The medications and supplements the doc had him on probably helped as well. More importantly to him this also meant he was allowed to see to his own hygiene again, which was a relief.
You lost your trip.
Also bump limit reached at 8, we need 9.

Go go go.

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