Counter-Offensive (Imperial Guard)
Alright everyone, the time is finally here, and the RP begins. The first post is a slower one to get everyone acclimated to the format, and to give insight into the characters. I'll try to keep updates weekly. Players PM me if you can't post for some reason. Replies should be roughly one paragraph at the smallest. Enjoy!
Canis System, Kulth. Tertiary Imperial Defensive Perimeter: Camp Echo. 20 kilometers from the front.
Camp Echo, a large Imperial Guard station, setup on the far edge of the tertiary Imperial defensive line. The first parallel fell over a month ago, and the second defensive perimeter is being challenged by the Orks as the units here prepare their equipment and wait for briefing. The camp is almost wholly occupied by members of the Vostroyan 241st, a rather rag-tag, if not resourceful, unit made up of a collection of Vostroyans thrown together from other demolished squads and battalions, containing soldiers from all walks of life. This leads to a wide and very versatile set of skills, and a wide and interesting collection of Vostroyans. The 241st were very recently shipped in to provide reinforcement for what should be very standard defensive operation.
A mixed air of excitement and unease hangs over Echo, with new recruits worried about being thrust back into combat on a new world, against Orks who know the lay of the land from 85 years of contesting Kulth, and seasoned Veterans ready to put some Greenskins on the business end of a melta in the name of the Emperor.
On the far, back edge of the camp, a Vostroyan with a Hot shot rifle sits with his feet kicked up on the railing before the range itself, confronted by several other Vostroyans.
"Alright Harmon," one of the men standing replies, "You got me. I don't know why I keep against your aim. You actually shot the pin out of a grenade. But now I'm down 15 Thrones." (Thrones are the currency of 40k)
A wider grin than usual plasters the sniper's face.
In a large supply building located in the interior of the camp, a booming voice demands to see and inspect the state of the explosives in the armory. Two rather intimidated looking supply officers are trying to inform him he doesn't have the authority to do so.
"G-Guardsman Valentine, was it? Sir, you simply don't have the authorization to go into the armory and.. 'Inspect' the explosives."
The other supply officer chimes in, emboldened by his comrade.
"And why are the explosives your business anyways?"
In the enormous motor pool, dominated by scores of Chimaera transports and Leman Russes, along with a handful of Super Heavy Tanks, a stocky but very obviously physically powerful Vostroyan with a thick mustache is loading a Chimaera that he and his squad will eventually use for transport to the front. He moves towards the front of the vehicle, and loads up the twin linked heavy bolters mounted on the forward turret, as the Chimaera's driver approaches him from behind.
"Gorski, I hear the Greenskins are coming out in hordes. Scuttlebutt says second perimeter falls within a fortnight. What do you think?"
Near the command center of the camp, inside a non-combat supply building, a slim man with dark hair picks through medical supplies, frowning in disgust at the lack of advanced medical gear. There were medi-packs and kits by the dozen, but for anything more serious than that, there was little to no equipment. The men would have to be transported at least 10 Kilometers to Camp Delta, and that was assuming they were injured here, and not at the front.
In the interior of the command center, in the office of General Kolovski, A Veteran sergeant is addressed by his superior.
"Sergeant Bullert, these will be your men." Kolovski slaps down four file folders onto the table. "I understand this is very rushed and last minute, but seeing as we are the Vostroyan 241st, our goal is to be flexible with the resources we are given. You will need to find and collect these men and then report back here for your briefing. Are we clear?"
The sergeant glances down at the file folders for a moment before returning his gaze back to the General.
Your stories begin here.