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Since a bunch of us had a great discussion about guard HQ's etc and general guardiness in the chatbox, I thought I'd post this thread in the vain hope the discussion won't be lost forever.

Bear in mind my army is not intended to be competitive at all, and is a fluffy force.

I love the Vox network in my army, inspired by the FW command squad for my cadians (and GG), i like to vox up every squad, with a master vox in the command squad.
My army is an infantry regiment, and so is not allowed tanks of any kind, fast attack choices, any abhumans or priests etc.

Basically, if its guard infantry its allowed, if its not, its off limits for me.

I have a mixture of heavy and special weapons, as i like the models.
 

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Mine are pure mechanised, everything has (or will have rather) a transport, be it chimera, or a valk for my snipers.

i just love the chimera/predtop hybrid. and i love tallarn shit.
 

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I'd have to post the fluff on mine to explain the restrictions, but for the most part, my army is a mixed company that uses more of what most other guard armies shun.
 

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Sure... but you asked for it... lol....

Now to find the intro piece....

The Mordian Paramilitary is a private militia which was organized and funded by a member of the Ordo Maleus... one Lord Mai. When looking at the makeup of the army, it can be easily noticed that with the exception of Elites and HQ units, no units that are not permitted as inductees into a force of the Ordo Maleus or the Ordo Hereticus has been included. Also, as the regiment is not funded by the Lords of Terra, but rather from the personal coffers of said Lord Mai, most sought after weapons, munitions and vehicles will also be found lacking. The army uses no lascannons, basilisks, demolishers, or Commissars, as these units and equipment would be unsuitable for a clandestine and ragtag private militia. Below are a couple small stories that outline a bit more of the Mordian Paramilitary's exploits in a more narrative fashion. Those of you who enjoy critiquing such things will find many errors in grammar and person. Feel free to correct the mistakes. I need proofreaders.

Brendan’s Tale.

The sturdy young man sitting alone outside the mess hall was feeling quite anxious. Well, maybe anxious is not the best word to describe the nauseous, yet exuberant, paranoia his life had become, but what else could he call it? He doubted that the three helpings of heavily spiced tubers were responsible. Tonight, his peers would count him an adult. Tonight, Brendan would have the liberties and freedom he could only have dreamt of the night before. But, on the other hand, tomorrow would be the beginning of the end of the rest of his most likely short but glorious life, if his recruiter was to be believed. Why did he listen? Should he have? Did he really have to leave?

He was actually quite comfortable. Life on ‘The Island’ was not that rough. Everyone’s basic needs were more than adequately met, and each person had a purpose and a goal. Sure, some mainlanders would liken the island of Nagoria to a penal colony, but that could hardly be considered a knowledgeable opinion. As an orphanage and school, the vast majority of the inhabitants of the Island were children, with many no older than two Terran years, and quite a few ancients could be found there as well. Some people, Brendan had often mused, just lacked the discipline such a regimented life required.

Now, after having packed his few meager belongings, Brendan was about to leave this dull, yet safe, life and enter the service of the Emperor. His last duty to the Island was simply to perform a solemn ritual, which would not only serve as his graduation ceremony from Nagoria Orphanage and Refuge, but would also indenture the remainder of his years in military service to the God-Emperor of Mankind. As an orphan given hospice at the island of Nagoria, there really were not very many options. The strengths and weaknesses of all students would be carefully measured and each future planned and prepared long before the children become of age to choose the course of their lives. For Brendan, the choices left to him had included induction into some vague regiment of His Imperial Guard, or assignment to a mineral resource collection and processing facility located in the asteroid belt around the dead planet Mordia. Either way, to a young man it looked like a hard grim life. But at least, or so Brendan thought, in the military he could make something more of his life than to be a simple ‘miner’. And at the young age of sixteen, Brendan really did not like the prospect of spending several decades holed up in a rock barren of life. This recruiter, a Lieutenant Arreyano, really had it easy getting Brendan’s acceptance.


“Corporal Jericho reporting for duty, Sir!” Brendan stated firmly and crisply, all the while hoping the quiver is his knees did not show. What he had believed to be a regiment, the Mordian Paramilitary, barely amounted to a company of guardsmen. From what he had observed from the transport, this base could hold no more than three hundred or so, plus vehicles and equipment. What is this place? Brendan’s attention is drawn outward immediately as the officer before him rises from a desk cluttered with papers, portable view screens, and an archaic looking sidearm.
“Corporal B. Jericho,” stated the officer, a Colonel P.G. Butts. “At ease, Corporal. It’s not often a fresh recruit arrives for his first duty station having achieved your rank. Meritorious promotion due to your remarked upon devotion to our beloved Emperor, and your high level of proficiency with plasma weaponry. I assume you have already been assigned quarters. Sign out and report to Sgt Gunter over at Lima’s barracks. I understand he has a position available that may suit your talents. Dismissed.”

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‘Brendan Jericho’, the name Lt. Arreyano had given him citing some long forgotten and probably illicit passage of text, still felt unreal to Brendan’s ears. And, had he not been whispering the name repeatedly to himself while staring at a handful of technical servitors busy servicing some walking mechanical behemoth, he might have noticed the young man ahead of him before tripping over the man’s staff. Picking himself off of the ground, Brendan apologized for his ineptness only to find the stranger not even looking his way. The stranger was intently observing, or was he conversing with, a floating head?

“Uh, pardon me,” stated Brendan, “but what is that?” pointing to the skull.
“Oh, uh, ‘noon. That’s just Brinelles, or, was Brinelles before. Now he’s just a scribe of sorts. Well, he’s supposed to be a familiar of mine, but I really can’t see the use of him. It’s just that I can no longer ‘see’ him.” A touch of frustration marked his eyes.
“Oh, Brinelles.” Who, or what, the hell was Brinelles, and what the hell is this thing? “I do apologize for bothering you, uh, Sir.”
“HA! Not ‘Sir’. I’m just a lowly peon in Lord Mai’s service. Name’s Jacoby and you look new, lost, and well fed. Where ya headed?”
“Uh, Brendan, and I’m looking for Lima barracks, a Sgt Gunter.” Well fed?
“You’re almost there,” Jacoby said as he pointed Brendan to the appropriate building across the tarmac.

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“Ah, Cpl Jericho! It’s about time you’ve arrived.”
“Reporting as ordered, Sir!” Brendan replied, surprised at finding Lt. Arreyano waiting for him.
“Corporal, Sgt Gunter usually handles fresh meat, but he is unavailable at the moment, so you get the luxury of my company once more. Actually, I’ve been waiting for you, you see. I have a small problem with my personal command staff. Simply put, I don’t have enough staff, and you’re gonna remedy this.


You might say I have a taste for the technical, and you’re aptitude with plasma rifles intrigues me. You are assigned to my staff for the moment and report directly to Sgt Gunter, when he arrives. He’ll take care of the necessaries and introduce you to the rest of our unit. Welcome to Lima! Now, vacate my office, I’ve got some much-needed downtime ahead of me. And, in case you were wondering, the mess hall is three blocks over.”

What the hell?
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“Stay in cover!” yelled the Lieutenant as Lima platoon’s command squad became overly anxious. “Target that big flippin’ brute! We gotta keep him from reaching the Colonel’s Kids!” The Colonel’s Kids were the two Leman Russ Main Battle Tanks that were never left behind and the Colonel never went without. The ‘big flippin’ brute’ was a monstrous xenos the Lieutenant called a ‘Big Flippin’ Fex’. Lieutenant Arreyano sure did have a way with words, or at least, he said he did.
Brendan and another Corporal, McGreasley, fired off a few rounds of super-heated plasma at the Fex and succeeded in pissing it off. Again they fired and this time saw the Fex fall back a bit screaming in pain, a truly painful sound Brendan would never have expected to issue from the beast. And again shots were fired, and Brendan was terribly relieved to see the Fex fall, limbs missing and xenos carapace smoking, only a few paces from an immobile ‘kid’. The stench of the beast was atrocious, even from here, Brendan thought, until he looked to his right and saw the remains of Cpl McGreasley lying behind him, with his head and left torso covered in the molten slag of his plasma rifle. “Lieutenant! Man down!”
Suddenly the area was surrounded in blindingly vivid flashes of light, causing Brendan to hide his eyes.
“Pay attention, Brendan!” Jacoby stuttered as he fell into the foxhole, exhausted. “Those little blighters nearly had you. Oh.” The psyker said nothing more as viewed the corpse on the ground.
Brendan looked around to see nearly a dozen ‘gant carcasses littered to his left, just a pace or two outside of he foxhole. The Lieutenant, Sgt Gunter, Pvt Keso, and Lima Platoon’s spiritual leader Brother Simpleton were moving about the corpses dispatching any that may be capable of further trouble. “Thanks, Jake,” mumbled Brendan. “It does take a lot out of you, doesn’t it.”
“Enough of the small talk, boys,” orders the Sgt. “Corporal, be careful with that blasted rifle of yours. We need it to take out another big bug. We’re moving to the next foxhole, right beside the ‘Russ.”


The Russ was thunderously loud at such a close distance, making communication with the rest of his unit sporadic at best and nearly impossible when the tank’s sponson heavy bolters were firing. Brendan had to keep his head down, as he couldn’t stand without hitting the Russ’s sponsons, not that he really wanted to. The Lieutenant was one foxhole ahead, barking something at 1st Squad’s acting-sergeant.
Something was approaching his position, well, floating toward his position. Brendan kept glancing back at the xenos object. It seemed to drift a little closer every time the Russ fired off another round from its main cannon. “Sergeant, what is that closing in at 10 o’clock?”
“Dammit boy, didn’t you read the BGB? That’s a spore mine and should have been targeted and destroyed before it got so close to our lines! Everybody duck!” Sgt Gunter lowered his lasgun and fired off a quick burst, which easily found its target, only to detonate the ‘mine’. The sergeant fell back into the foxhole wheezing in pain as several bits of xenos carapace were lodged in his face and neck. Seeing the wound, Brother Simpleton immediately dropped to the sergeant’s side and assessed the problem. “We need the med kit! Who has the med kit?”
“That was McGreasley. But he’s down, er, dead!” yelled Pvt Keso.
“Sorry Sergeant,” was all Jacoby heard from Brendan as he sprinted out of the foxhole heading back towards McGreasley’s corpse, and the med kit. Though it seemed like it took a half standard hour to reach the foxhole, it was only a couple of dozen paces away. Brendan dove into the foxhole, immediately feeling as though he had been punched, and was forced through the air, landing hard against the side of the foxhole. Completely disoriented, eyes watering from the pain, he felt for wounds on his chest where he felt the blow, crying out loud as something bit deeply into his hand. Looking down he saw dozens of tiny grub-like creatures that seemed to be all teeth and venom. Keeping down an almost overwhelming sense of revulsion, Brendan realized that the parasites were attempting and nearly succeeding in borrowing through his flak armor. Brendan thanked the Emperor for his grace, thinking of how fortunate he had been that none of the parasites had hit him in more exposed areas. He tossed the armor out of the foxhole and turned to look for the med kit only to find company in the form of the xenos creature that had apparently shot him. The creature leaped into the air straight toward Brendan with claws and fangs slashing wildly. Only the reflexes honed during specialist weapons training saved Brendan’s life that day as his fingers deftly double-tapped his plasma rifle sending two shots directly into the head and chest of the creature, dismembering it completely.
Brendan cried out again as the remains of the creatures torso fell upon him, impaling the single claw still attached into his side. Maybe removing his armor was not the best idea he had yet had, but he still couldn’t see any other choice as he labored to remove the xenos corpse without doing further injury to his side. Standing caused him to become dizzy and lose vision for just a few seconds, but he managed to find the med kit, still intact and undamaged, and also saw the uniformed corpse in the foxhole infested with xenos parasites. He unleashed a bit of plasma into McGreasley’s body, refusing to let such creatures desecrate the remains of an imperial servant, and made his way out of the foxhole.

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“Corporal!” shouted Pvt Keso, as Brendan fell into the foxhole next to Sgt Gunter, causing the Sgt to grunt in pain. Brother Simpleton took the med kit and looked despairingly at Brendan’s torn abdomen. Where was his armor?
“Where the hell you been, Corporal? And what took you so long?” asked the Lieutenant, his mouth in a grin, but his eyes betraying his concern.
Corporal Brendan Jericho remembered no more of this battle.

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Brendan was startled when his eyes finally adjusted to the ambient light emanating from the arcane gas lamps. The familiar ‘Formerly Known as Brinelles’ was hovering just inches from his face. Obviously, this meant that Jake was nearby. Brendan would have let out a scream, just to startle the Psyker a bit, but the tight bandages and the pain within would not let him draw sufficient breath.
“Good evening, Corporal. How do you feel?” asked a medic as he entered the room.
“He feels well enough to be in good humor.” Psyker Jacoby, while not as gifted a psyker as many others in similar service, did have a remarkable gift. It was very difficult to get anything past Jake while he could hear your voice and see your face. He could read and understand these as surely as a veteran officer could recite the Imperial Infantryman’s Uplifting Primer. “Really, how do you feel?”
Despite the pains in his abdomen and the short breaths he was forced to take, he managed to squeak out “Just flippin’ peachy. When can I go?”
“You should be cleared to return to your unit momentarily. Your injuries were fairly minor, despite the loss of blood, and you should heal quickly. Your duty will be restricted for the next few weeks, so keep it light. I’ll send an orderly around in a minute with your discharge papers and a chit for a minor narco-stimulant to help keep you up and about.” The medic left them then, alone in the room.
“So, Jake, how did it go? Did we all make it back?” his memory still a bit fuzzy.
“Not everyone. McGreasley’s body was never recovered. The lieutenant is still the Lieutenant, and Sgt Gunter is three rooms down, to the left, in stable condition. He is scheduled to undergo a procedure to repair part of his neck, but the scars will be horrendous. The rest of the unit is fine, though we took nearly 30% casualties in our infantry squads, and one sentinel may be beyond salvage. We don’t even know what hit that one. Everyone now thinks that maybe Pvt Keso is a lucky charm, or maybe an unlucky hex. It’s still undecided. He was found half unconscious and delirious, under the corpse of what may be the only bug he actually killed during the entire mission. We’re all just surprised that he’s alive.”
An attendant enters the room and hands a sheaf of documents to Brendan and turns to Jacoby. “Mr. Jacoby, the time has come for the next in your series. Follow me please.”
“If you need to find me, I’ll be next door. It seems that I didn’t make it through the battle in one piece, though physically I’m fine. They just want to see if my ‘thinker’ still thinks ‘correctly’. Always suspicious of outside influences, the Imperium is. See ya.”
“Great!” thought Brendan aloud as he headed out to report back in to his unit. “Out of action for weeks, with the sergeant and Jake in medical lockup. That’s just gotta get the Lieutenant in a ‘flippin’ bad mood.”
 

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Psyker Jacoby's Tale

What you read in italics are excerpts from the above story that feed into this one.

The stench of the beast was atrocious, even from here, Brendan thought, until he looked to his right and saw the remains of Cpl McGreasley lying behind him, with his head and left torso covered in the molten slag of his plasma rifle. “Lieutenant! Man down!”
Suddenly the area was surrounded in blindingly vivid flashes of light, causing Brendan to hide his eyes.
“Pay attention, Brendan!” Jacoby stuttered as he fell into the foxhole, exhausted. “Those little blighters nearly had you. Oh.” The psyker said nothing more as viewed the corpse on the ground.
Brendan looked around to see nearly a dozen ‘gant carcasses littered to his left, just a pace or two outside of he foxhole. The Lieutenant, Sgt Gunter, Pvt Keso, and Lima Platoon’s spiritual leader Brother Simpleton were moving about the corpses dispatching any that may be capable of further trouble. “Thanks, Jake,” mumbled Brendan. “It does take a lot out of you, doesn’t it?”


“Enter!” shouted the Colonel from behind his collection of antique and archaic pistols.
“Lieutenant Arreyano, Sir, as you commanded,” was the response as the Lieutenant strode smartly into the room, assuming a ramrod-straight position of attention, and awaited his Commanding Officer’s pleasure.
At ease Lieutenant, at ease. We have received a bit of disturbing news,” grunted the Colonel as he admired the craftsmanship of what looked like one of the first production laspistols produced on the Colonels adopted planet, Mordia. “It seems that word of one of your staff members, a Mr. Jacoby, has reached the ears of Lord Mai’s staff. How is Mr. Jacoby?”
“Sir, Mr. Jacoby is in good health and stands ready to do his duty. Might I inquire if this ‘news’ involves his difficulty toward the end of our last engagement with the Xenos Hive Fleet?”
“Yes you may, and yes, it does. Mr. Jarvis has informed me that Mr. Jacoby is currently residing in the infirmary. There is concern that Mr. Jacoby is not as fit as his position requires. As a Sanctioned Psyker, such weakness cannot be tolerated.” Mr. Jarvis, as a member of Colonel Butts’ staff, and the senior Sanctioned Psyker in the regiment, holds nominal authority over Mr. Jacoby. “Though, as of yet, no fault has been assigned. Mr. Jacoby’s history and those acts of courage and dedication performed while serving as a member of your staff have granted Jacoby a possible reprieve.
“I am expecting a visit from a Lady Antoinette de Beaucourt, an Inquisitor with the Ordo Hereticus, and her entourage tomorrow. According to the communiqué I received from Lord Mai’s staff Astropath, this group will soon determine Jacoby’s suitability as a Sanctioned Psyker in Lord Mai’s service. I thought you should know.”


“Lady de Beaucourt, at my Lord Mai’s request, my command is at your service.”
“I thank you, Colonel, though I pray we shall not intrude upon your hospitality long. Where might I find the ‘patient’?” The Lady’s tone of voice when she spoke this last word sent chills down the spine of Lt. Arreyano, who was standing erect toward the rear of the Inquisitor’s welcoming party.
With a voice barely betraying his uneasiness, Lt. Arreyano steps up and informs the Lady de Beaucourt that Mr. Jacoby, his staff Sanctioned Psyker and trusted advisor, is currently boarding in the infirmary.
“Very good, that will do. There are a few details to which we must attend before we begin, including the locating of an area that matches these specifics as closely as possible. The requirements listed are most necessary in order to perform the procedure with little interference. I trust these can be made ready soon?”
“As you request, my Lady.” Lt. Arreyano receives a datapad from an ornately armored assistant and quickly withdraws from the party, concerned that one of his own would soon find himself receiving the full attentions of an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor, and knowing the penalty of death that such inquiries most often bring. Lt. Arreyano heads towards the infirmary, soon catching sight of an orderly. A few quick orders are given, and both men head off in different directions, each with a sense of urgency.

An attendant enters the room and hands a sheaf of documents to Brendan and turns to Jacoby. “Mr. Jacoby, the time has come for the next in your series. Follow me please.”
“If you need to find me, I’ll be next door. It seems that I didn’t make it through the battle in one piece, though physically I’m fine. They just want to see if my ‘thinker’ still thinks ‘correctly’. Always suspicious of outside influences, the Imperium is. See ya.”


“Girard, how many more do you suppose I must endure?” Jacoby was really getting frustrated with the seemingly endless ‘exams’, which were no more than child’s play, but became quite tedious and often painful when taken consistently. He knew that Jervis was not happy that he had lost consciousness at the end of their last skirmish with the Xenos bugs, not happy at all. But, how were these annoying exercises in futility going to help? Jacoby suspected that maybe Jervis was overreacting just a bit.
“Mr. Jacoby, I’m sure I don’t know, though I do know that the location for your next exam has changed. If you would please, follow me.”
Jacoby finds himself seated uncomfortably on a stone bench. This does not surprise him, though, as many such benches can be found within the base. He is surprised, and quite worried, about why he has been left unattended in such a deep cell in what must be the lowest level of the infirmary. Nothing has been made comfortable, and there is barely enough light to illuminate the hallway beyond the locked door of the next room. Of course, reasoned Jacoby, this is just another paranoid fear of Jervis’s becoming my reality. Why does he distrust me so? Does he plan to just leave me here? What kind of ‘exam’ has he got planned for me this time? Haven’t I already proven my worth?

Jacoby continued asking such questions to himself for several moments before realizing that someone else was nearby. Or was that it? No, what is that?
Constant pressure was building inside Jacoby’s mind. Not his head or brain, his mind. He was startled to realize this and quickly began countermeasures to close off his mind to outside influences when he finally became aware of faint shadows from under the door. Suddenly the door flew open, allowing two forms to stride purposefully through the door, followed by a third.
Before Jacoby had the time to form a single distinct thought through the psychic barrage assaulting his mind, the first of the two to enter the door began her procedures as well. Questions such as ‘To whom do you owe fealty and service if not our Lord Emperor?’ and ‘If it is absolution you crave, why do you not ask?’ were constantly asked of Jacoby. The second of the two immediately began to bind Jacoby’s arms, legs, and head upon the stone bench. Once this was accomplished, various needles were inserted into his veins. After a tool kit was opened displaying various devices and utensils, some cruelly curved, others straight and sharp as monomolecular blades, Jacoby wished for release, but the request could not form in his mouth. He was assaulted in body, mind, and soul, never giving thought to the unknown third person observing the procedure on all levels.

It was several moments before Jacoby first screamed. It was longer before his lungs finally ceased drawing the breath required to scream.

“Colonel, may I have a moment of your time?” The Lady de Beaucourt pulled her vestments about her as she entered the Colonel’s office.
“My Lady, of course, I am at your service. How fares the investigation?” The Colonel instantly knew that he had shown too much concern by asking so suddenly, but that could not be helped now. The Inquisitor did not look pleased.
"Colonel, my investigations have led me to conclude that there is no fault of Heresy or Mutation within your Psyker, Mr. Jacoby. Though the possibility exists that he was under attack during his last engagement. We are aware of Tyranid Xenos with Psychic ability, and these Xenos may have had a part in the events that led to this investigation. At this moment, by my orders, your best chirugeon is attending Mr. Jacoby. For one of his meager talents, he has proven himself loyal to the Emperor, and faithful to his calling. I pray he recovers fully.
At this the Colonel was filled with satisfaction and dismay. It is not often that a patient survives an inquest such as this. Though Mr. Jacoby was found ‘not guilty’, he may still die from the treatment such an interrogation requires.
“I do have another investigation to complete before I depart. I would like to know who first contacted Lord Mai’s staff concerning this incident.”

Brendan can only take so much garrison duty. How many times can one perform routine maintenance on a Las-rifle before holes are polished right through the hand-guards? Needing a break, and not feeling up to a bite without a friend to chat it up with, Brendan headed over to the infirmary to see if the Gunny was doing better after his surgery, and of course, to check up on Jake. “He should be released anytime now,” thought Brendan aloud, “how many exams must the guy take before they see that he’s as fit as I am? Besides, Brinelles was being a real pain without Jake around.”

Jake was not in the room he was originally assigned to, and the Gunny was not receiving visitors so soon after the surgery. The orderlies and nurses outside of his room were chattering about cybernetic advancements excitedly. That should have been expected, considering the amount of damage to the sensitive tissue within the Gunny’s neck. A tang of guilt still pierced Brendan; he had yet to speak with the Gunny. An orderly informed Brendan that Jake had been relocated to another room 3 levels down, and may not be receiving visitors either, but that by now, he may. “What kind of test did he take?”
The room number given to Brendan led to an open door. The room was kept dim and a nurse was in attendance. When asked, she gave Brendan just a short moment to converse with Jake before his next med-cycle took him under again.
Brendan received a shock when first seeing Jake lied up in bed. He could see no serious physical injury, though there were several patches of what looked to be small incisions all over his exposed shoulders, arms, cheekbones and scalp. His fingers were tightly bandaged and his eyes were swollen and bruised. His lips were severely bitten.
“Good news, Brendan,” whispered Jake. “I have been evaluated by my superiors, and I am found worthy.” The caustic tone of Jakes voice, weak as it was, still had a ring of triumph to it.
“What?” No words could be found to express how he felt at seeing his friend left in this condition by his own command. Before he could speak again, he felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped though the ceiling.
“Calm down, Corporal. I’m just here to explain a few things to my advisor here and I don’t see why you should not know as well, though this information does not leave this room.” After seeing that the statement was received as an order, the Lieutenant continued. “Mr. Jacoby, there was nothing I could do to prevent what transpired. Those who performed the inquest did so at the request of Lord Mai, and were themselves of the Ordo Hereticus. An accusation of Mutation has been leveled at you, Mr. Jacoby… Jake. My own investigation has led to the apprehension of your accuser, who will no longer be a member of our fine company. Apparently Mr. Jervis has become prideful of his position and feared that your achievements of late would overshadow his own and that you would eventually usurp his position as the senior Sanctioned Psyker within the regiment. Such pride and jealousy have turned Mr. Jervis into the Traitor that now undergoes his own rites of absolution aboard the Cruiser orbiting above. His fate lies with the mercy of our Lord Emperor.
Your treatment, I’m told, will not be swift, but our best medical officers and staff are emphatic that you will make a full recovery, given time. You also have the respect of the Ordo Hereticus. To be found worthy by one such as a Witch Hunter Inquisitor is an honor, though not one often sought out. The Colonel has assigned you to his staff, though I have asked permission for you to remain within mine. The Colonel has left this decision to you Jake. Mr. Chanticlere will be assuming Mr. Jervis’s former position until you have recovered. You are both valued members of my staff; so don’t make me kick your flippin arses for failing to report in full health after the next skirmish. And that goes for the flippin Gunny, too.
 

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my guard are the 25th Attradis infantry company supported by 2 leman russ. the force also includes a squad of elite "sarducar" the attradis version of storm troopers.
 

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So, is it worth it to tool up a command squad for CC? If so, how far? Doesn't seem like 5 or 6 guys with init. 3/4/1 would survive any determined CC. Is it mandatory to take countercharge units like rough riders or ogryns? Do rough riders do jack against non-MEQs/TEQs like orks or eldar?
They can work at a pinch, but be advised they're best used for mop up duties (say killing the last 3-4 Assault marines that got through the shooting phase). They don't do so well when they go toe to toe with units that are at full strength and designed for CC.

And yeah, Rough Riders fail pretty badly when they face off against a large unit of Boyz.
 

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my guard are the 25th Attradis infantry company supported by 2 leman russ. the force also includes a squad of elite "sarducar" the attradis version of storm troopers.
I take it you're a Dune fan then! But the Sarducar(SP?) terror troops were the elites of the Padishar emperor, not the Atreides... ;)
 

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My Guard are the 1st Safwan, ( it means desolate rock in arabic) using the Tallarn minis.

The fluff and stuff is still coming together in my head but think of all things arabic with a bit of persian mixed in and its not far off.

This is a real slow army for me to build as the limited metl minis are getting harder to ge hold of and im trying to convert them a fair bit to stop too any of the same pose popping up. ( Forgeworld bits are creeping in as well.)

So for now they will end up going mech as tanks are just tanks.
 

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So, is it worth it to tool up a command squad for CC? If so, how far? Doesn't seem like 5 or 6 guys with init. 3/4/1 would survive any determined CC. Is it mandatory to take countercharge units like rough riders or ogryns? Do rough riders do jack against non-MEQs/TEQs like orks or eldar?
well you can tool up a HQ for CC by buying flamers and a powersword, this is about as much as i would go.

Also for counter charge it is not a matter of if the enemy will get to your lines but when and what happens once they do. Counter charge units simply kill some of them essentially slowing them down so you minimize your losses.

And no RR are not mandatory.
 

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The V Ocillion Grenadiers are artillery specialists as a consequence of the glacial world they live on. Their hive cities are built on what exposed rock there is but battles are fought and won over fields of mile thick ice and snow. Where one 'Ice Torch' round (an incendiary shell manufactured on their world) can melt the ice for a brief few seconds dooming whomever or whatever is in the vecinity to sinking below the surface and being entombed in the quickly reforming ice.

Shelling accurately upon a barren and featureless white landscape with its high winds and blinding snow storms to any other guard regiment would seem like an impossible task. But this method of warfare has over time conditioned the soldiers of Ocillion to have an eye for range and distance. Spatial awareness and caluclation will get any man far up in the ranks of the regiment quickly, while the stronger and dimmer work the basilisks and medusas ceaselessly. The techpriests walk amoung the tireless guns ensuring no failure. They are masters of warfare where the enemy is very often never seen yet they bring the sky down upon the emperors foes without fail.


My regiment is only small at the moment but uses the vostroyan range and a trio of basilisks. 6 lascannons in 2 teams as well as 6 mortars in two teams with my command squad. Static lines of troops to guard the basilisks and heavy weapon teams.

2 Techpriests with 2 servitors each for repairs (because weapon destroyed will practically make them redundant).

This is at the moment only an attachment for my witch hunters in apocalypse games but i'm hoping for more. I'm not really planning this for any sort of hardcore battling (especially if they axe doctrines in the next guard codex which will result in me never playing again) so if my army sounds really flawed just ignore it. Its more for the theme than the ass kickery.
 

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Currently working on building mine, forming this army list and then building it.
So far have about 1/2 of it, and only about 1/4 painted.

List is at http://www.heresy-online.net/forums/showthread.php?t=5765
think it's a balanced list, 4 tanks, so a few pie plates and a fair amount of infantry.
 
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