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>>5645862
But such was not always the case. As a child, it became clear that you excelled in a certain talent, and for that reason you were taken to be trained. A great honour for your family, despite your mother’s tears and desperate pleas.

By the old reckoning, the year is 2150, and you are a proud member of the Janissary Legion. You serve proudly and with distinction under the classification of:

>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.
>Assault: The backbone of the Legion, dedicated infantry and weapons specialists. Assault troopers focus on inflicting damage and casualties as the front-line soldiers of the Legion. A catchall definition for the superiority of Human troops, the typical infantry roles are reserved for the lower caste Khak’gazur in the Army.
>Sniper: One shot, one kill. The marksmen of the Legion are famed for their ability to take life at a distance. Generally you serve as overwatch for your squadmates, but where a high-value target needs to be eliminated from afar, few can claim to be deadlier than a Legionary Sniper.
>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

>>5645863
>>Sniper: One shot, one kill. The marksmen of the Legion are famed for their ability to take life at a distance. Generally you serve as overwatch for your squadmates, but where a high-value target needs to be eliminated from afar, few can claim to be deadlier than a Legionary Sniper.

>>5645863
>How will you run?
Slowly, forgive me. I will try to get a post up each day, but I do have to travel on a lot of weekends. I will do my best to communicate throughout threads. I won't be doing sessions of many replies and will just keep slowly chugging along.

>How will dice work?
We're going to be operating off a modified version of FATE Core (Yes, I know)

>What is the setting?
I hope to slowly introduce it over the course of this beginning thread. If there are more questions after the initial introductory stuff I will loredump.

>Is OP a faggot?
Probably, we'll see.

>>5645863
>>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.

>>5645869
>>5645863
This vote will be left up for a while. So if it's a few hours without respond, OP is not dead, just absent.

>>5645863
>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.
SNAKE

>>5645862
>Tfw I had an idea to do writefaggotry with a similar premise

Well, time to lurk. Seems well written so far.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.

>>5645863
>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

>>5645942
>time to lurk
Vote ye negro

>>5645863
>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

>>5645863
>Sniper: One shot, one kill. The marksmen of the Legion are famed for their ability to take life at a distance. Generally you serve as overwatch for your squadmates, but where a high-value target needs to be eliminated from afar, few can claim to be deadlier than a Legionary Sniper.

>>5645942
Lazy bum, start writing

>>5645955
I did, I did.

>>5645960
Well, I've got a few hours between classes anyways. Might as well.

>>5645863
>>Sniper: One shot, one kill. The marksmen of the Legion are famed for their ability to take life at a distance. Generally you serve as overwatch for your squadmates, but where a high-value target needs to be eliminated from afar, few can claim to be deadlier than a Legionary Sniper.

>>5645869
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.

>>5645863
>Assault: The backbone of the Legion, dedicated infantry and weapons specialists. Assault troopers focus on inflicting damage and casualties as the front-line soldiers of the Legion. A catchall definition for the superiority of Human troops, the typical infantry roles are reserved for the lower caste Khak’gazur in the Army.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.
I guess this could advance into an infiltrator role.

>>5645863
>>Assault: The backbone of the Legion, dedicated infantry and weapons specialists. Assault troopers focus on inflicting damage and casualties as the front-line soldiers of the Legion. A catchall definition for the superiority of Human troops, the typical infantry roles are reserved for the lower caste Khak’gazur in the Army.

>>5645863
>Sniper: One shot, one kill. The marksmen of the Legion are famed for their ability to take life at a distance. Generally you serve as overwatch for your squadmates, but where a high-value target needs to be eliminated from afar, few can claim to be deadlier than a Legionary Sniper.

>>5645863
>Sniper: One shot, one kill. The marksmen of the Legion are famed for their ability to take life at a distance. Generally you serve as overwatch for your squadmates, but where a high-value target needs to be eliminated from afar, few can claim to be deadlier than a Legionary Sniper
Let's reach out and touch somebody

>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

medic bros. the most beloved person on your side.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion. Scouts are tasked with locating enemy positions and wilderness survival. Often the posterchildren for the Legion, Scouts are famed for the ability to slip into enemy territory unseen even more than the typical Legionary.

>>5645863
>>Medic: Saving lives is significantly harder than taking them, and you’re trained in both. When your crayon-eating comrades get booboos it falls to you to patch them back together.

>>5645863
>Scout: Survivalists and stealth troops, the pathfinders of the Legion.

>>5645868
>>5645960
>>5645993
>>5646118
>>5646146
Sniper (5)

>>5645884
>>5645904
>>5645953
>>5645959
>>5646152
>>5646271
Medic (6)

>>5645996
>>5646048
Assault (2)

>>5645886
>>5645892
>>5645914
>>5645918
>>5645949
>>5645994
>>5645998
>>5646167
>>5646397
Scout (9)

Scout takes it. Locked and writing.

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>>5646446
>>5645863
>SCOUT
For years your life has been spent in dedication to the Empire. A dedication typified by being sent out ahead of your fellows. Where enemies lurked in the brush, so too did you. Where the very terrain threatened to take the lives of other, less sure-footed soldiers, you were tasked with taking the fight to nature itself. Scouts were the very embodiment of the type of fighting the primates of Sol had evolved for.

As a boy you were taught of the righteousness and justness of your cause, of the Empire and its strength, of your place at the forefront of its spear. As a youth, you learned the order of the battle, of how to strike terror into the infidels that stood against you and your almighty mission. As humanity had been uplifted, so too would the Aerlyth uplift the rest of the Galaxy. Under one banner would the disparate peoples of space unite, under one set order. To go against such teachings was sacrilege, a heresy of the highest order.

Your instructors taught you that long ago, humanity had rebelled against the teachings, and for such they had been struck down in nuclear hellfire. Your place was in service, at the right hand of the Aerlyth, their trusted advisors and special forces. You were not brutes like the Khak’gazur, nor were you cowardly pilots like the Xha, and all of you were above the diminutive Ankshi and Dabrul, servile races not even fit to operate in the military of the Empire. No, the children of Terra were proud, a glorious peoples who had glorious purpose.

The Alaw had dared to stand in the face of the natural order of the universe, had dared to aggress against the Empire that had offered them a place amongst the gloried in the stars. For that, they had to be brought to heel. The Army and the Navy had been set to strike as the hammer upon the anvil, but such was the way with their races that they had faltered, and the Alaw had fled into their vast jungles. Their leaders had been scattered, their troops dedicated to fighting a pointless guerilla war against their would-be saviours. So it was that the Legion, Humanity’s finest, had been brought in to eliminate the opposition.

With the flagship above, you had been dropped into the wilderness with your comrades.

>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.
>You were hardly a new-hand to combat, tours of duty on backwaters and rebellious worlds had left you scarred and bloodied. The 15-11th were a good lot, your lot.
>The second scariest thing to a senior NCO of a Legion squadron was his XO, and that was you. Humans, of course, could not serve as officers, but you’d seen more than your fair share of combat and the kids in your unit knew it.

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.
Naked snake

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.
https://youtu.be/WWZ6wOo19WQ

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>>5646450

>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

>>5646457
I'M STIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL IN A DREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM SNAKE EATER!

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.
I always get the shakes before a drop

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

This is reminding me of Deniable Assets quest.

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>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

>>5646458
>Only The Snake Is The True Hero!

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

>>5646450
>>It was your first drop.

>>5646465
Tomahawk and revolver option when?

>>5646450

> >It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

Great setting so far QM

>>5646450
>>You were hardly a new-hand to combat, tours of duty on backwaters and rebellious worlds had left you scarred and bloodied. The 15-11th were a good lot, your lot.

>>5646459
Operation: Virtuous Mission, commencing.

>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

because the road of baby face to PTSD-ridden Rocky is the best

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

>>5646450
>The second scariest thing to a senior NCO of a Legion squadron was his XO, and that was you. Humans, of course, could not serve as officers, but you’d seen more than your fair share of combat and the kids in your unit knew it.
I dont want to be at the bottom of the totem pole

>>5646450
>It was your first drop. A quite literal greenhorn, Alawkabash would be your crucible. The other Legionaries had taken to ribbing you constantly about it. Not that you cared much, you knew you would prove every bit as valuable as each of them.

>>5646457
>>5646458
>>5646459
>>5646462
>>5646464
>>5646465
>>5646467
>>5646471
>>5646488
>>5646489
>>5646630
>>5646929

>>5646925

>>5646610

Overwhelmingly in favour of Naked Snake. Locking in. Writing will come a bit later but not too much later.

>>5646944
Had to reset the router and guess that means an ID change. Formatting ability is lost.

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>>5646450
>>5646952
>GREENHORN

The time spent in orbit above the Thrice-forsaken jungle you’d been dropped into had been filled with nothing but jibs and jabs at your inexperience. You’d taken your licks on the chin, smiling and calling back when necessary. After all, there was plenty to call out about your oh-so-experienced comrades. Blue had been the most vocal, but he’d also suffered the worst of your comebacks, when your name was so decidedly Aerlythic as Thingolthin and you behaved in a way that almost seemed to advertise that you thought you were a member of the ruling caste, it was easy to insult your comrades. It also made you an exceptionally easy mark.

“Get fucked,” Had been the last words he’d said to you before you’d each strapped into your pods.

He’d not noticed your trembling arms or the sweat that seemed to pool across your brow. Only Candlestick had seen that, his dark eyes piercing behind the medical HUD. The XO slapped you hard on the shoulders and grinned, revealing broken teeth, “Don’t sweat the nerves, kid, I always get nervey before a drop. Just clench your pucker t’save from shitting yourself and we’ll be in the greenery before you have time to piss yourself.”

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>>5646960
Those had been the final words of advice that you’d taken before the drop. Before you and your squad were sent hurtling planetside. Like comets you’d have appeared to the savages, you and all your ilk. The Legion was dropping, not just in the jungle, but across the planet. Glinting lights of civilisation against the backdrop of fire-brightened night.

The Army was still shelling the cities, reducing the remnants of the traditional resistance to mince meat before they’d move in to occupy what remained of the civilian centres.

In those few moments of free-fall, you found yourself thinking back to your life before the Legion. Of that time when you were scant more than a boy. You thought of:

>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.
>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.
>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

>>5646961
>>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.

>>5646961
>>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

>>5646961
>>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.

>>5646961

>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

I like the idea of being a rich kid trying to prove that he’s a hard ass.

>>5646961
>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.

>Being a Spacer

Spacenoid moment.

>>5646961
>>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

>>5646961
>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.
Boss

>>5646961
>>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.

>>5646961
>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

>>5646961
>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.

>>5646961
>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy

>>5646961
>Your parents.

>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

>>5646961
>Your sister. With your father dead and your mother serving as an engineer on one of the vast orbital installations the Empire had constructed to project its influence, it had been her who had raised you. Being a Spacer meant you were somewhat removed from the complexities of the Imperial caste system, and it showed in your mannerisms. Not that you cared much, it meant you were a proper citizen, one of those on the frontier.

>>5646961
>>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

>>5646961
>>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy

>>5646965
>>5647046
>>5647096
>>5647236
>>5647264
>>5647363
Sister (6)

>>5646966
>>5647066
>>5647107
>>5647173
>>5647300
>>5647348
>>5647375
>>5647389
Tutors (8)

>>5646988
>>5647031
>>5647073
>>5647095
>>5647115
>>5647185
>>5647250
>>5647342
Parents (8)

A tie between Parents and Tutors. Will hold the votes open for a bit longer

>>5646961
>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

I'm going to go for the inevitable inferiority complex route.

>>5647397
This is an interesting premise for a quest, Ottomeme.

>>5647400
Thanks, hopefully it also turns out to be an interesting quest. Thanks to the other positive feedback from the anons earlier, I've been reading it just didn't have much to say other than that. Simple as.

>Your tutors. Your parents had been excellent bureaucrats and that meant that they had been far too busy to raise their sons. You and your brothers knew the educators better than you did your own folks. Of course, their heightened status in civilian life meant very little in the Legion, but you knew as a scion of the upper echelons of the human caste, you were just short of the Aerlyth in terms of hierarchy.

>>5646961
>Your parents. Good, honest, middle-class folk, the type who still called Earth home. Your mother had been an educator and your father a labourer. They’d raised you proper, before you’d been taken along to serve in the Legions after the Aptitude Testing at your school. A lot of the other kids in your school had been taken off, not that you’d seen any of them since.

don´t like them spacenoids, simple as

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>>5647397
>>5646961
TUTORS

It was the stern faces of Mr Asher and Miss Li that came to mind as you hurtled towards the ground. Your tutors had been closer to family than your own folks ever were. They'd been so dedicated to status and to their work, you'd felt as if they'd barely noticed you until the day you were tapped for service. Then, all of a sudden, they had cared after all. You didn't care for it much. You'd never wanted for much, their position had afforded you with each and every luxury, but there'd been no luxuries in basic and even less spaceside. No, your status meant little to gravity.

The pod hit the ground with all the subtlety that steel and fire hurtling from the sky would allow it. Adrenaline and fear rattled through you in equal measure as the g-forces and velocity threatened to tear apart the metal and, with it, your very squishy flesh. But the ingenuity of Imperial engineering once again proved itself, and the atmosphere and the wood of the jungle proved no match for the might of the Legion. Thunder cracked and you hit the ground. A moment. Another. Then it came apart, and for the very first time you were on a hostile world.

Your scouting HUD fed you information rapidly, each tree catalogued, each birdsong analysed and processed. For a moment the sheer overload of information threatened to disorient you, and you were forced to stumble and lean against one of the searing trees. Nausea arose from your core, and vertigo settled from the top of your head. But you remembered your training. In. Out. Each breath centred you, and the constant feedback of information assaulting your eyes was reduced to data. Letters and numbers that you could process and comprehend. In conjunction with your natural senses and aptitude for identifying danger and the biological world, the raw stream of encyclopaedic data would serve you in your role as scout.

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>>5647462
As you centred yourself, the reality of your very first drop, your very first mission slowly taking hold, you could not keep the intrusive thoughts out of your head. Were you really worthy of serving in the Legion? After what had happened? After what you had done?

>His death had been your fault. Casualties did not occur in training, not ever. Yet, under your command you had been the sole recruit to ever have the distinction of losing a man in an exercise. Recruits washed out, they died of illness or took their own lives, but they did not die under fire. Not outside of combat. You had managed to dispel that myth. The stigma would never leave you.

>Substance abuse. It had plagued you for so much of your youth. Not only alcohol, but Hash. It’s use in the Legion was an open secret, but it was no less well known that those who partook in the substance were worth little more than as grunts. You’d managed to keep yourself clean, clean long enough to get your stars. But for how long?

>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?


[Fortunately, most of this was prewritten so phoneposting was possible.]

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>>5647465
>>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

>>5647465
>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?
It's the men who think they are the most unworthy to lead, that become the worthiest.

>>5647465
>>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?
Let's not be an addict shall we.

>>5647465
>>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

QM what the state of religion in earth? has it been erased like BIg E does or it is under the Empire influence?

>>5647465
>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

My work day is starting but will monitor/be around for questions etc.

>>5647490
It still exists. Uplifting was only a bit over a century ago and it's decidedly hard to kill a religion. That said, freedom of worship and speech isn't a thing in the Empire and those who have dangerous ideas and sermons tend to end up arrested for sedition. The Empire tries very hard to cultivate a sort of "secular" Imperial cult with a focus on the noble work of uplifting the savages of the galaxy and bringing about natural order to the chaos.

>His death had been your fault. Casualties did not occur in training, not ever. Yet, under your command you had been the sole recruit to ever have the distinction of losing a man in an exercise. Recruits washed out, they died of illness or took their own lives, but they did not die under fire. Not outside of combat. You had managed to dispel that myth. The stigma would never leave you.

Doubt is kinda a trope weakness for protagonists. I want something different.

>>5647465
>>His death had been your fault. Casualties did not occur in training, not ever. Yet, under your command you had been the sole recruit to ever have the distinction of losing a man in an exercise. Recruits washed out, they died of illness or took their own lives, but they did not die under fire. Not outside of combat. You had managed to dispel that myth. The stigma would never leave you.

>>5647465
>His death had been your fault. Casualties did not occur in training, not ever. Yet, under your command you had been the sole recruit to ever have the distinction of losing a man in an exercise. Recruits washed out, they died of illness or took their own lives, but they did not die under fire. Not outside of combat. You had managed to dispel that myth. The stigma would never leave you.

>>5647465
>>Substance abuse. It had plagued you for so much of your youth. Not only alcohol, but Hash. It’s use in the Legion was an open secret, but it was no less well known that those who partook in the substance were worth little more than as grunts. You’d managed to keep yourself clean, clean long enough to get your stars. But for how long?

>>5647465
>Substance abuse. It had plagued you for so much of your youth. Not only alcohol, but Hash. It’s use in the Legion was an open secret, but it was no less well known that those who partook in the substance were worth little more than as grunts. You’d managed to keep yourself clean, clean long enough to get your stars. But for how long?

>>5647465
>>His death had been your fault. Casualties did not occur in training, not ever. Yet, under your command you had been the sole recruit to ever have the distinction of losing a man in an exercise. Recruits washed out, they died of illness or took their own lives, but they did not die under fire. Not outside of combat. You had managed to dispel that myth. The stigma would never leave you.

>>5647465
>>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

>>5647465
>>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

>>5647465
>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

>>5647465
>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

>>5647465
>>Substance abuse. It had plagued you for so much of your youth. Not only alcohol, but Hash. It’s use in the Legion was an open secret, but it was no less well known that those who partook in the substance were worth little more than as grunts. You’d managed to keep yourself clean, clean long enough to get your stars. But for how long?

>>5647465
>His death had been your fault. Casualties did not occur in training, not ever. Yet, under your command you had been the sole recruit to ever have the distinction of losing a man in an exercise. Recruits washed out, they died of illness or took their own lives, but they did not die under fire. Not outside of combat. You had managed to dispel that myth. The stigma would never leave you.
Boss, you killed a child...

>>5647465
>Substance abuse. It had plagued you for so much of your youth. Not only alcohol, but Hash. It’s use in the Legion was an open secret, but it was no less well known that those who partook in the substance were worth little more than as grunts. You’d managed to keep yourself clean, clean long enough to get your stars. But for how long?

>>5647465
>You’d not done anything. That was the problem. You were an imposter. Just another boy playing at soldier. Doubts beset you constantly. Better men than you had died in the Legion. Better men than you had gotten others killed in the Legion. Who were you to tempt fate?

>>5647476
>>5647481
>>5647483
>>5647488
>>5647496
>>5647599
>>5647603
>>5647694
>>5647695
>>5647922

>>5647507
>>5647513
>>5647516
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>>5647751

>>5647570
>>5647592
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>>5647592
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>>5647802

Imposter syndrome takes it. Locked, writing soon.

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>>5647971
>IMPOSTER SYNDROME
You were hardly a soldier, certainly far from having earned the title of Legionary. Barely a scant few months out of training, a boy playing a part that was far too big for him. You knew it and it was only a matter of time before the rest of your squad figured it out as well. It had been all well and good to go through the motions when you were shipside but this was the real thing, you were on hostile soil, with a serious target to hit and the very real threat of death. You weren’t ready.

“This Gabriel-One, all positions report in,” Came the call of the CO over the comms, the harsh voice of Welsh helping to bring you back to reality and out of your self-imposed funk.

“Gabriel-Two, landed,” Candlestick’s voice crackled next.

“Gabriel-Three, landed,” Whoremonger spoke.

There was a pause. Five seconds passed before the next voice signed off, it was not Blue as was to be expected but the soprano of Ahab, “Gabriel-Five, landed.”

“Gabriel-Six, landed,” Petey didn’t miss a beat.

“Gabriel-Seven, landed,” Jo-Lee spoke.

Finally, you called in, “Gabriel-Eight, landed.”

There was another slight pause, and still no response from Blue. The comms came to life again, and Welsh’s gravelly baritone came through the line, “Gabriel-Four, how copy?”

Silence.

Your eyes flickered to the top-right of your HUD, the relative positions of each of your squadmates flashed in vibrant red upon a map of blue. You were all in relative proximity, although you and Jo-Lee, the other scout in the detachment, were about as far away from each other as could be deemed acceptable per mission parameters.

The comms crackled to life again, "Archangel, this is Gabriel. Seven of eight reporting in. One of our scouts is in proximity to his beacon, sending them to investigate while we proceed to target.”

You gripped at your rifle, readying yourself as the SL spoke:
> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]
> “Seven. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [Jo-Lee will be sent after Blue. You will proceed with the primary mission.]

>>5647990
>“Seven. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [Jo-Lee will be sent after Blue. You will proceed with the primary mission.]

>>5647990
> “Seven. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [Jo-Lee will be sent after Blue. You will proceed with the primary mission.]

>>5647990
>“Seven. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [Jo-Lee will be sent after Blue. You will proceed with the primary mission.]

>>5647990

> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

Let’s test our mettle here

>>5647990
> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]
As the new guy, we will probably be sent to do the shit job

>>5647990
> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

>>5647990
>> “Seven. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [Jo-Lee will be sent after Blue. You will proceed with the primary mission.]

>>5647990
>> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

>>5647990
>“Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

>>5647990
>> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

>>5647990
> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

New guy draws the short stick - always

>>5647990
> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

time to prove ourself?

>>5647990
>> “Seven. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [Jo-Lee will be sent after Blue. You will proceed with the primary mission.]

>>5647990
>> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

>>5647990
> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

>>5647996
>>5648003
>>5648026
>>5648094
>>5648206

>>5648032
>>5648075
>>5648091
>>5648096
>>5648100
>>5648144
>>5648161
>>5648165
>>5648232
>>5648415

> “Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.” [You will be sent after Blue]

Locked. Writing shortly. Expect an update in at most a few hours. As we are moving out of chargen (a few more things will be finalised as we progress but these are all aesthetic) I have less pre-written, and I have a few things to handle irl this evening.

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>>5648954
>>5647990
“Eight. Check in on Four. The rest of you RV on my beacon.”

To be expected, the rookie always got the shit jobs. Your eyes turned to your HUD map again, the blinking, numbered lights detailing the positions of each of you and your squad. As loathe as you were to be sent on pickup duty, it made sense. Jo-Lee was about as far from Blue’s position as anyone in your squad save Whoremonger. You, in contrast, were only a few hundred metres out. It wouldn’t take long at all to close the distance and see what was keeping the Aerlyth-LARPing son-of-a-bitch quiet. You regretted the insult as soon as you’d thought it. The man could be dead and he was a comrade, a Legionary, hell, he was a better Legionary than you.

You said none of this over comms, “Copy.”

You checked your DMR. Sights in order. Magazine loaded. Ready. Then you set out after Blue’s position, your indicator pulling away from the rest of your squad.

The jungle was unlike anything you’d ever been in. Training missions had seen you land in all manner of rainforests, from the Amazon on Earth to the Eritree on Pok, but those had been rainforests. The climate on Alawkabash was different, drier, much, much drier. You weren’t a botanist, you were about as far from a man of science as one could get, so you didn’t bother thinking too much about how a planet as arid as Alawkabash had evolved such abundant plant-life. What you did think about was just how miserable it was to trek through. You could feel your throat parching for water after barely two-hundred metres in the scrub. The forest was dry, but it was dark and it was crowded with green and orange plants, their sheer density threatening to constrict you. You ignored them, and allowed your instincts and the data feed of your HUD to lead you through.

As you approached Blue’s position, your eyes flickered left and right, your ears pricked, your nostrils flared, each scent was utilised to sense for a trap. For something amiss. An eerie silence passed for a moment, only the strange cries of local fauna piercing the air, before you were satisfied you could move forward.

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>>5648977
Blue’s pod was a mess and instantly you knew what had gone wrong. It had broken up in the air. Fortunately, he had well and truly breached the atmosphere, or you doubted there’d be anything but steel and the rancour of burning flesh. Instead, you could make out a humanoid shape, in the armour of the Legion, still strapped into skeletal remains of the drop pod. You couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead, that information in addition to the sheer wealth of data that your scouting HUD fed into your neural pathways would have burned synapses.

Lowering your rifle, you approached slowly, “Eight, One. Four located, pod error. Status unk-”

A snapping of a branch and the sound of hushed whispers cut your sentence off. Someone was coming, evidently the falling of a breaking pod to the surface of the planet had caught unwanted visitors.

“Amber contact. Eight out.”

You raised your rifle and scanned the treeline, left to right, right to left, until you saw it. Movement to be sure, silhouettes too spry and too nimble to be human. Fucking Kabs.

>Fade away into the trees, they don’t know you’re here. You can wait for an opportune time. Of course, they could just kill Blue on the spot when they find him. [Stealth]
>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]
>Fuck. Get Blue out of there quick. Maybe you can drag him to safety before they come upon you. But is there time? [Physique]

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>>5648979
>So how does this work?
We will be operating off a modified/simplified version of FATE. For the most part, we will be rolling 4d6 (1-2 being -1, 3-4 being 0, and 5-6 being +1). The result is added to your skill and then this is compared to the challenge rating. The challenge rating will vary based on your choices.

>What about aspects?
At times an option will prompt one of your Aspects. Alternatively, write-ins can also use Aspects. Where you guys utilise an aspect, you can either reroll or gain a +2, there will be some discussion about this but threads won't be derailed over arguments. You also lose 1 of your Fate Points. I can also *force* a result based on Aspect. Imposter Syndrome, for example, means little Johnny Legionary isn't going to be projecting an honest aura of confidence.

>And stunts?
Stunts can also be used provided circumstances allow, they give bonuses, they don't need Fate points. Simple as.

>Fate Point economy
They will refresh at the end of each 'session.' This may be a thread, it may be a subthread, as the narrative and pacing demands. They aren't a rare resource but they are limited.

>>5648979
>>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]

>>5648979
>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]
Be the first to strike

>>5648979

>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]

Seems best to strike first

>>5648979
>>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]

>>5648979
>Fade away into the trees, they don’t know you’re here. You can wait for an opportune time. Of course, they could just kill Blue on the spot when they find him. [Stealth]

>>5648979
>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]

>>5648979
>>Fuck. Get Blue out of there quick. Maybe you can drag him to safety before they come upon you. But is there time? [Physique]

>>5648979
>You have the drop on them. If you strike now, you can take them out before they come upon Blue. Take a cover position and begin firing. But you risk exposing your position. No doubt they already know there are Human forces in the area regardless, so that is no issue. [Shoot]

I suspect that they aren't what we think, and are making a mistake by shooting them.
So I say, shoot them.

>>5648979
>>Fade away into the trees, they don’t know you’re here. You can wait for an opportune time. Of course, they could just kill Blue on the spot when they find him. [Stealth]

>>5648979
>Fade away into the trees, they don’t know you’re here. You can wait for an opportune time. Of course, they could just kill Blue on the spot when they find him. [Stealth]

>>5648979
>>Fade away into the trees, they don’t know you’re here. You can wait for an opportune time. Of course, they could just kill Blue on the spot when they find him. [Stealth]
Get more info

>>5648993
>>5648997
>>5648998
>>5649020
>>5649060
>>5649127

>>5649046
>>5649135
>>5649160
>>5649189

>>5649067

Roll to [Shoot]. Roll 1d6, taking the first 4 results

>>5649406

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5649406

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5649406

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5649406

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5649406

Rolled 2, 1, 2, 3 = 8 (4d6)

>>5649424
>>5649433
>>5649436
>>5649439
2+3=5

Rolling then writing

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>>5649459
>Rolled 2+3=5 vs -3+0=-3
>8 Shifts of Success

You don’t have much time to think, you fall in next to the damaged Pod, taking cover behind the remnants of one of its metallic walls. It’ll shield you from any return fire, although once you begin firing, it is almost certain that your position will be known. There will be no slinking back into the shadows, not from the position you find yourself in.

Your eyes scan the treeline, and you make out three shapes moving clumsily through the brush towards you. Their limbs are long and willowy, and would almost be dragging down beside their ankles were they not all evidently clutching rifles. You hiss through your teeth at that, those were Imperial assault rifles. Somehow they’d managed to loot weaponry off the corpses of the infantry. The thought is swiftly dispelled, the incompetence of the lower castes can be dealt with at a later date. For the time being, you had the enemy ahead of you to attend to.

You align your sights. Inhale. Exhale. Fire.

Your first shot is textbook, the considerable advantage of you knowing their presence and them not knowing yours is evident. They are not attempting to stealth through the brush, and you swear the Kab at the front is mid-joke when the bullet catches him in the throat. The laughter dies on his lips, replaced by a choking, drowning sound.

You whip your rifle to one of his comrades, but both of the enemy have taken cover. A few wild shots spray out toward you, but do not come close to your position. You wait for the opportune time to strike, and in time it comes. The second of the Kabs rears his entire upper body out from behind the trunk he had been sheltering behind. Your bullets catch him centre mass, and he falls into a heap. You hear him shriek, an ungodly, near-avian sound, but there is nothing but silence from his comrade.

“S-surrender!” You suddenly hear him shout, “I surrender! Surrender!”

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>>5649473
You do not fire. Not immediately.

“Come out,” You call back, “No weapon, hands up.”

The Kab shambles forth from behind the tree, his too-long arms raised well above his head. You’d never actually seen one in person before. They’re a curious species, to your untrained eye they appear as if some sort of russet-coloured reptilian-simian hybrid. The creature is taller than you, but not by much, and a bulk of the height appears to be in its limbs, its torso both short and narrow. Bulging eyes stare at you from over a dinosaur-like maw, fur and feathers hiding the intricacies of its features from your insight.

You keep your weapon trained on the Kab.

No doubt your gunfire will have drawn attention, and whatever ragtag fucking militia this thing is with will be closing in shortly. You’ve still got to extract Blue and somehow get back to the rest of the squad for the primary mission. Taking a prisoner is sure as shit going to slow you down.

>Not that you have much choice. What alternative do you have? Just let him go? Get him marching.
>That’s exactly what you can do. Taking prisoners wasn’t on the brief and you’ve got too much shit to deal with. Tie him up and leave him.
>There isn’t time for this and it’s a fucking Kab. Put it down and get back to the mission.

>>5649476
>There isn’t time for this and it’s a fucking Kab. Put it down and get back to the mission.

our teammates life takes priority

>>5649476
>There isn’t time for this and it’s a fucking Kab. Put it down and get back to the mission.

TOTAL REPTILE DEATH

>>5649476

>>There isn’t time for this and it’s a fucking Kab. Put it down and get back to the mission.

No hesitation, move along.

>>5649476
>>That’s exactly what you can do. Taking prisoners wasn’t on the brief and you’ve got too much shit to deal with. Tie him up and leave him.
If you start shooting Kab's who surrender, you're not going to get any more to do so.

>>5649476
>Not that you have much choice. What alternative do you have? Just let him go? Get him marching.

>>5649476
>>There isn’t time for this and it’s a fucking Kab. Put it down and get back to the mission.
Kabs aren't human nuff said

>>5649476
>>That’s exactly what you can do. Taking prisoners wasn’t on the brief and you’ve got too much shit to deal with. Tie him up and leave him.

>>5649476
>There isn’t time for this and it’s a fucking Kab. Put it down and get back to the mission.
Our first war crime but by no means last

>>5649476
>>That’s exactly what you can do. Taking prisoners wasn’t on the brief and you’ve got too much shit to deal with. Tie him up and leave him.

Speaking of war crimes is there a Geneva equivalent in this world?

>>5649725
Yes, Kill all who refuse our gift of enslavement.

>>5649482
>>5649485
>>5649490
>>5649502
>>5649649

>>5649495
>>5649505
>>5649712

>>5649498

Warcrimes win. Writing shortly.

>>5649725
Yes. The Empire is not a party to it.

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>>5649823
>Put it down and get back to the mission.
You don’t hesitate, the second the Kab is clear from cover, you pull the trigger. You see in its eyes that it comprehends your intentions seconds before you shoot. Fear, primal and pure, reflects out at you, it opens its maw to scream, to beg, but the sound never comes. Gunfire bursts and it falls dead. You force yourself to ignore the sickening feeling that comes over you, originating in the pit of your stomach and permeating out like a malaise. In its dying moments, it had looked almost human. That fear was something you’d seen in your own eyes, the very real understanding of one’s own mortality. You centre yourself. It was a Kab. Who knew how many of your countrymen the creature had killed? It had looted Imperial weapons. It had tried to shoot at you. You had done exactly what was necessary for the mission, you had done exactly as you had been trained to do. The mission came first, your comrades came first, the backwater savages that were putting those things in danger needed to be eliminated. That was all there was to it.

You turned away from the corpses. Once again, you scanned your surroundings for any further contacts. Satisfied that you were alone for the time being, you rushed to Blue’s pod. The exterior was a mess, most of it having broken apart. Fortunately the core of the structure remained in place, the skeletal remains keeping your squadmate intact and protected from the harshities of the planet’s more deadly elements. You pull away some of the debris, leaving only Blue strapped into his impact harness.

“Oi, Blue,” You say to him, trying to gauge some kind of reaction, “Oi, you with me, legionary?”

He groans, eyes flickering open but unable to focus on you. You’re not a medic, but you assume that dilated pupils and eyes rolling around in one’s head are not good signs. He mumbles something under his breath, before allowing his head to lull. You don’t let him, focusing your attention on keeping him awake.

“Stay awake, softock,” You growl, “I didn’t come here so you can fuckin’ die on me.”

“F-fu… fuck’u…” Is the response. It’s not good, but it’s at least something.

You struggle with his harness for a moment, the force of the impact having locked it well into place. It takes more brute strength than you would have otherwise liked, but you manage to unclip him from his drop position. He collapses immediately, and you are forced to step back to catch him. The support you provide is almost disastrous, as you only narrowly avoid tripping over scattered debris. Thankfully, you right yourself, and thus your wounded comrade, and are able to lower him to the ground with minimal issues. He is heavy, and just about dead weight, but he is at least alive.

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>>5649833
Alive but ultimately useless to the mission at hand. Whilst you do not doubt Gabriel squad’s combat effectiveness, the reduction to one active Scout while you play nursemaid is almost certainly to reduce the speed in which they can traverse the jungle. There is a set window in which the target is to be located and neutralised, and the sooner you can return to your SL, the sooner you can assist with the greater mission.

Taking Blue with you is going to seriously reduce the speed at which you can move. There are a few options before you. You could move him to a safe location, pump him full of whatever the fuck the first-aid autoinjector had in it, activate his buoy, and wait for the cavalry to come and get him later. He’d not slow you down, but God only knew what matter of militia or creatures were lurking in the trees. You could also pump him full of adrenaline or hypo or whatever the wake-up auto-injector had in it. Idly, you considered that you really should have paid attention in supplemental first aid training. He’d be able to move with you, but considering he was almost certainly concussed, the chemicals would wreak havoc on him long-term. Of course, you could just move with him to the team, it would be the most likely to ensure his survival, but it would slow you down considerably and that meant leaving the team without either you or Blue for an even longer period of time.

>Leave him somewhere safe. He can wait it out.
>On your feet, legionary. Hit him with the drugs.
>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.

>>5649834
>>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.

>>5649834
>>On your feet, legionary. Hit him with the drugs.

>>5649834
>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.

>>5649834
>On your feet, legionary. Hit him with the drugs.

>>5649834
>>On your feet, legionary. Hit him with the drugs.

>>5649834
>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.

>>5649834
>>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.
I love ASS

>>5649834

>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.

Once the squad forms up, maybe Sarge can dedicate someone to watch over him?

>>5649834
>On your feet, legionary. Hit him with the drugs.
I'm sure he'll walk it off.

>>5649834
>>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.

>>5649834
>On your feet, legionary. Hit him with the drugs.
Just enought to get him to a medic in a timely manner.

>>5649834
>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.
Get him to the medic
We might kill him doing first time first aid in our first mission

>>5649836
>>5649872
>>5649916
>>5649934
>>5649936
>>5649970
>>5650010

>>5649849
>>5649888
>>5649894
>>5649963
>>5649984

Hauling him takes it. Locking it now. Will write in a bit.

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>>5650414
>Time to haul ass. And by that, you mean literally haul his ass.
You haul Blue to his feet, throwing his arm over your shoulder. Immediately you feel the strain against your back as you balance yourself to carry what amounts to more-or-less dead-weight. He grunts something and moans softly as you pull him away from the wreckage, careful to avoid stepping on either damaged and discarded metal or the blood of the insurgents.

“Eight. One. Three Kabs down. Extracting Four, moving to your position, walking wounded. Over.”

“Hard copy, Eight, we’ll get the place cleaned up for you. Over and out,” Is the response.

Grunting, you shift Blue’s weight and begin the arduous process of trekking through the jungle with a wounded legionary to support. He doesn’t speak again, instead contenting himself to lull into the half-sleep of consciousness. The movement is slow, much slower than you would have liked. Moving through the brush was your speciality, and being slowed not only by a comrade, but considerably slowed by a wounded comrade irritates you more than you’d otherwise like to admit. Whilst Blue is quiet, you are not, pants and grunts escape from between your lips as you are forced to manoeuvre in such a way to not cause more damage to the semi-conscious soldier.

As you slowly move toward the beacon on your HUD, your comms again sprinkle to life.

“Seven. One. Contact due west, ten hostiles, heading your way. Over.”

“Copy. Three, get into Overwatch position. Make yourselves- shit! Weapons free.”

In the distance, you hear the telltale sound of gunfire. It would appear your squad had come across a patrol, a bigger patrol than the one you had ambushed. You grit your teeth but keep moving. Militia were hardly a match for the might of the Janissary Legion, your squad would be fine. The issue was the continued breakdown of your stealth, no doubt gunfire in the jungle would tip off the target about the incoming strike.

Not that there was much they could do about it.

The HQ was a hard target, an impromptu camp set up in the wilderness, a base of guerilla operations from which no vehicle could approach. Of course, this meant that the insurgents could not leave by means of vehicle either. Gabriel had been dispatched to eliminate the Colonel overseeing operations, ordering his rebels to strike at supply convoys and destroy comms-lines. Some primitives just didn’t know when to quit. Your information, if it was good and it always was, had told you that he was present at the camp. And the sheer force of the drop pods would render him unable to escape with a squad bearing down.

The issue would be the strike would sure as shit not be as stealthy as you would have liked. Open gunfire in the jungle. It was what it was. You continue forward, overtime the gunfire subsided, and the comms returned.

“Hostiles eliminated. Hold for Eight and Four then prepare for move-out. Seven, continue to scan. Three, continue on overwatch.”

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>>5650498
So it was that when you finally came across your squad, you are greeted by the remnants of a firefight. Whoremonger and Jo-Lee weren’t visible, but such was to be expected. Ahab and Welsh’s eyes scanned the treeline constantly, the former appearing as jumpy as ever, her eyes were twitching as she drummed her fingers on her barrel. Candlestick was crouched over Petey, the rather diminutive legionary was swearing constantly under her breath as the medic attended to a wound on her shoulder.

The medic looks at you, “Howdy, rookie, leave him here. I’ll get to him once I’m done treating this whiny baby.”

Petey growls something in response, releases a series of swears in some sort of Slavic language that you do not comprehend, gathering laughter from the grizzled medic. You follow his instructions, lowering the semi-conscious Blue to his side.

“Rookie,” Welsh calls to you, “You good to fight?”

“Aye, SL.”

The SL nods, then quirks his head to the medic, “How’re they looking?”

Candlestick has turned his attention to Blue, and you can hear the terseness of his voice as he speaks, “Blue’s fucked. Not dyin’ or nothin’ like that but doubt he can keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. Petey’s fine, her arm is wounded, but she can shoot straight enough. Or straight enough by her standards.”

More Slavic swearing.

Welsh nods, “Petey, cover Stick while he makes sure Blue doesn’t die. We’re on the clock here and time’s running out before they figure out how exactly to evac.”

>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”
>“Rookie, Ahab, fall in, I want a scout making sure there aren’t any ambushes set. We move up and we hit ‘em. Jo-Lee, do your best to find some kinda entryway.”

>>5650499
>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”

Time for sneaky

>>5650499
>>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”

>>5650499
>>“Rookie, Ahab, fall in, I want a scout making sure there aren’t any ambushes set. We move up and we hit ‘em. Jo-Lee, do your best to find some kinda entryway.”

>>5650499
>>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”

>>5650499
>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”
This is a stealth mission

>>5650499
>>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”

>>5650499

>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”

>>5645862
>>5645863
Haven't read more than this but Christ OP, that opening is cool as hell.

>>5650499
Phoneposting but sneaky takes it. Can I get 1d6 rolls, taking the first 4

>>5651207
Thank you!

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5651319

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5651319

Here you go

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5651319
Here goes

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5651319

Rolled 6, 6, 1, 2 = 15 (4d6)

>>5651324
>>5651325
>>5651325
>>5651356
Net neutral. Doing some rolling but a post won't be up for some hours.

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>>5651599
>“Rookie, push up to Jo-Lee, I want the two of you of you scouting each side of the camp. Find us an opening.”
>3(0+3) vs 2(0+2)
>Success with 1 Shift
>Unseen

“Copy,” You answer, pulling your rifle up into a ready position as you do so.

With the announcement of the intent to push forward, the small clearing in which you and your squad has placed itself goes quiet. The utterly foreign birdsong continues to whisper through the leaves of the trees, and you are vaguely aware of the pained groans of both Blue and Petey, but the rest of your squad takes position in an utterly deadly silence. You don’t bother looking back to see if Ahab and Welsh will fall in behind you, you know they will eventually. No, your role is to lead the way. You are a scout, a pathfinder, the vanguard against the great enemy of shitty intel.

The jungle consumes you as light footsteps carry you forward, your HUD whirrs with information, your ears are pricked for any sound that seems out of place, and your eyes dart from side to side. A peculiar simian-like creature watches you from a branch as you push through its territory, not bothering to run from the heavily armed stranger. Somehow the wildlife on this godforsaken rock were just as unintelligent as the dominant species.

You examine your map, and see your position rapidly closing in on the stationary blinking beacon of Jo-Lee.

“Eight. Seven, coming in at 7 o’clock. Over,” You hiss into your comms.

“Hard copy, their camp’s up ahead. About two dozen Kabs, all in a flurry, lookin’ like they’re about to sprout wings and flee into the jungle. Guess the only reason they haven’t is ‘cos they don’t know which way we’re coming from,” He responds, his Martian accent twanging his words, “Target’s in the centre tent, doubting he wants to be moving given the mess you and then the SL made. But I wager there’d be some kinda hole to break into. You want left or right?”

You fall in beside him as he talks, tapping his shoulder to note your presence as you do so. The left has thicker jungle, and no doubt lesser enemy presence. It’d provide a better chance to avoid detection but chances are their supposed backdoor isn’t going to be facing the bush. Conversely, the right opens into lower scrubs and plains. It would no doubt be harder to avoid being seen by the foe, but you swear you can even see a brushtrail from here, no doubt to a latrine of some kind.

>Go Left

>>5651963
Obviously the other option is
>Go Right

Jo-Lee will go the other way, naturally.

>>5651963
>>Go Left

>>5651963
>Go Right

>>5651963

>Go left

Better to maximize stealth, I think. We could also give the impression of having set up an ambush in the woods if it comes to it, then the Kabs would flee off into the scrubland to be picked off.

>>5651963
>Go Right
also
>Martian
wtf I love Mars

>>5651963
>Go left

>>5651963
>>Go Right

>>5651963
>>Go Right

>>5651963
>>Go Right

>>5651975
>>5652019
>>5652115

>>5651989
>>5652218
>>5652664
>>5652811

Right it is. Can I get 2d6 please. Taking the first 4.

Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d6)

>>5652868

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

>>5652868

Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d6)

>>5652868

Rolled 4, 2 = 6 (2d6)

>>5652868

>>5652869
>>5652876
>>5652880
>>5652883
1st set (1,5,1,4= -1)
2nd set (2,2,3,6= -1)

Will write shortly. Tomorrow at the latest

Rolled 1, 5, 6, 2, 5, 1, 5, 3 = 28 (8d6)

>>5652915
Forgot to roll, Jesus.

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>>5652917
>2 vs 3 Stealth vs Notice [Failure]
>3 v 2 Notice vs Stealth [Success]

“Right,” You answer, and Jo-Lee nods.

The two of you part, your more senior comrade taking the more concealed path whilst you head toward that more open. Your head swivels from side to side as you crouch through what little of the brush you are able to conceal yourself in. Sweat beats down the back of your neck at the prospect of being spotted, but you continue onwards regardless.

It isn’t long before you see what you are looking for. There are two possible entrances to the compound from the right side. One is the path to the latrines that you had noticed earlier, a well-beaten path quite out in the open. Despite its clearly worn nature, it does offer some benefit to you. For one, it leads directly into the camp. Sure, it would require exposing yourself somewhat to the enemy, but it would be as easy as a Senator’s daughter to pass through it. There’d be no need for any sort of athletic sneaking or anything of the kind.

But, your eyes light up, were you looking for such an entrance, there is an alternative path. As you move slowly onward, it becomes clear that a series of crates have been stacked up against their wire barrier. The odd, yellow wood not only obscures the exterior of the fence from the view of those inside, but would also serve as a point to vault over. If you were willing to risk hoisting yourself over a barricade whilst wielding weaponry and equipment, you’d be able to sneak in much more effectively.

“Got two possible vectors,” You report in, “No eyes yet.”

Jo-Lee’s voice comes over the comms next, “None on the left. No patrols though. Looks like they’ve gone elsewhere.”

As if on queue, you hear a squawk.

Your eyes dart to the source, and find a rather angry looking red-coloured Kab pointing at you and shrieking. You’d been made.

“Contacts right. I’m spotted.”

“Fuck me, Rookie,” Welsh growls, “You good?”

More squawks join the first, and you push backward deeper into what little of the scrub there is, hoping to break your pattern. The sound of footsteps within the compound soon joins the squawks. You have little time to act.

> “No, SL! I need backup!” [Stealth+Shoot] You will call for help and attempt to fight your way in by force
> “I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert
> “I’m going to try to lead them away, there are crates by the rightmost barrier that can be used to enter!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert

>>5652936
> “I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert

>>5652936

> “I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert.

Basically be loud and draw them out. The squad should be able to strike hard and fast against the latrine point. The crates seem like a lost cause at this point, trying to get everyone to vault over the side seems like a bad move.

>>5652936
> “I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert

>>5652936
> “I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert

>>5652936
>“I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert

>>5652936
>> “I’m going to try to lead them away, push to the latrine entry point!” [Stealth] Squad will attempt to enter while you divert

>>5652957
>>5652959
>>5653000
>>5653021
>>5653173
>>5653695

Unanimous. Give me those d6s, lads

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5653753

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5653753

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5653753

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5653753

Here you go

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5653753
numbers

>>5653754
>>5653758
>>5653762
>>5653780
Net -1. Sorry for the delayed response. Will try to get something out tonight.

Rolled 4, 2, 6, 6 = 18 (4d6)

>>5653815
And rolling for the Kabs

>>5653816

Shit, we’re about to get rocked.

>>5653815
Speaking of "Tonight", which's your timezone?
Also it seems that we've been having bad luck lately, let's hope that changes.

>>5653819
GMT+10. Real Aus hours.

As a heads up as well, I will be out of town for about a week from Friday. I will have a phone so may attempt phoneposting but updates will be less in any case. I'm not abandoning the quest and will also be around to answer questions that people may have re: setting while I'm an absentee father.

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>>5653820
>3-1=2
>3+1=4
>Failure by 2 Degrees
>2 Physical Stress

“I’m going to try to lead them away, there’s an entrance on the right-side, a latrine pathway. You can’t miss it. I’ll draw as much fire as I can, then lose them in the brush,” You hiss over comms.

“Fucking dammit, Rookie-” Welsh starts, but you cut him off with your own shouts.

“Oi, you feather-brained savage fucks!” You call out, raising yourself from the brush and firing at their position, “Glory to the Empire! From now until the end!”

Your shots go amiss, wildly missing the mark, but you succeed in at least one aspect. You draw their attention. There are angry squawks, perhaps even words, but the adrenaline rushing to your ears mean you’re unable to properly hear them. You fire a few more shots, stepping back as you do, and they return fire. The distance and the minimal scrub shield you somewhat from the bullets, just as they block your own shots. The result is a cacophony of noise and not a single bullet finding purchase. But killing them is less important than drawing their attention. You retreat into the scrub and run, allowing your training to carry you forward through the brush. The sound of bullets and footsteps follow you as the treeline thickens and the ground grows harsher.

Your feet struggle to find purchase as fear threatens to rip you apart. You cannot turn and shoot, and you dare only take short glances to see how many of the guards you have pulled away. You count multiple, but are unable to make an accurate count with your focus on survival. You pant and your heart threatens to tear out of your chest as you exert yourself further, but you continue onward. It is a difficult game, you dare not pull too far away lest they give up the chase, but you also dare not allow yourself to fall to close to them lest they hit you with one of their many errant shots.

The latter happens.

Your armour has many gaps, one of the issues with having many joints, and the bullet finds purchase in your shoulder. Searing pain tears through you and you shout in agony as you are sent flying forward. Dirt and rock meet you, scuffing and scratching your eyeshield as you hit the ground hard. From behind you, more shots ring out, and you swear you hear the sounds of elated fucking reptiles.

But the agony that sent you sprawling gives you a moment’s respite, long enough to hear the comms.

“Bag another,” Whoremonger says calmly, “Command structure is free of guards.”

Your distraction appears to be working.

You force yourself to your feet, the sight of the Kabs growing ever closer from behind you.

>Time to wrap around, the squad has just about cleared up. Lead the fuckers into a trap.
>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.
>You’ve done your part. Time to fade into the shadows for fuckin’ good. You’ve bought the time needed.
>Fuck this for a joke. Time to ambush them yourself.

>>5653843
>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.

>>5653843
>>Time to wrap around, the squad has just about cleared up. Lead the fuckers into a trap.

>>5653843
>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.

>>5653843

>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.

Let’s not get greedy here, we’ve already been winged.

>>5653843
>>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.

>>5653843
>>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.

>>5653843
>Just keep distracting them, wait for the all clear on the target before you do anything else.

>>5653843
>Time to wrap around, the squad has just about cleared up. Lead the fuckers into a trap.

>>5653843
>Waiting for the all-clear
Can I get some d6s?

Again, I will be driving out tomorrow so the next post will be delayed. I may phone post at some point during the day, however. In the meantime, please await my return. Glory to the Empire!

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5654535

Here you go boss

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5654535

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5654535

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5654535

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5654535

Rolled 1, 4, 5, 2 = 12 (4d6)

>>5654536
>>5654541
>>5654568
>>5654569
Pretty good. Rolling but not writing. Long ass drive is done

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>>5655277
You've got a god damned job to do, injured or no. That means gritting your teeth, pushing yourself to your feet, and doing it. The fact that you can get to your feet serves as evidence enough that the shot just winged you. You're alive and not too wounded. Bloody, bruised and hurting, yes, but you're not about to keel over and cark it anytime soon.


"Come on!" You grunt, trying again to give the illusion of attempting to keep your voice down.


It seems to work well enough, for a few shots come toward you. You yip, an entirely planned action and not an involuntary noise born out being startled, you assure yourself, and push forward.


The continued chase is gruelling, but it's nothing you are unfamiliar with. Familiarity with the terrain and the evident exhaustion of your pursuers gives you greater liberty and soon you find yourself not worrying all that much about further injury. You keep pace, avoiding a few errant shots, but safe apart from scrapes and cuts.


It is as you push through yet another fern that your comms finally give you the good news.


"Target scratched. Mission accomplished. Rookie, position?"


"Working on it," You reply.


>Lay an ambush and dispatch your pursuers

>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help

>Just lose them and return to the camp. Let them linger in the jungle

(Phoneposting, sorry for brevity/quality)

>>5656040
And sorry for docs on my phone screwing the spacing up and me not checking

>>5656040
>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help

>>5656040
>>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help
we're in a bit of a pickle

>>5656040

>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help

No loose ends

>>5656040
>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help

>>5656040
>>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help

>>5656040
>>Lead them back to the target camp and have your squad help

I am alive. Further delays on follow up however. Sorry again

>>5658117
All g big man. Keep your head up!

>>5658117
Nice

>>5658117
np

>>5658117
Lead them back takes it. Can I get rolls of 2d6. Taking the first 4. Writing tomorrow around this time.

Rolled 3, 4 = 7 (2d6)

>>5660250

Rolled 3, 3 = 6 (2d6)

>>5660250
He Lives!

Rolled 5, 6 = 11 (2d6)

>>5660250

Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d6)

>>5660250

Rolled 4, 6, 6, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3 = 28 (8d6)

>>5660250
Counter-rolling. I'll be writing a bit later, sorting out dinner first.

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>>5661068
>Both success at a cost
“Wrapping back to you, got hostiles on my six. Bringing them to you for cleanup,” You answer into your comms, making sure to duck under a particularly errant branch as you do so. The leaves brush against your helmet, and for a moment the sound of scraping wood against kevlar distracts from the response over the comms, but you manage to bring your attention back in time to catch the last of your SL’s answer.

“-py that. Setting up firing line.”

That’s all you needed.

You inhale deeply, breathing oxygen into your lungs to fuel your push to the finish line. All you needed to do was think of the whole thing like a marathon, just a few more steps, a few more moments and you’d be at the end of the line at basic. No need to worry about the shots from the Kabs. They were subhumans, poor shots using rifles above their station. The sound of cracking branches and explosive shots distract from your temporary state of runner’s meditation, but not enough to slow your pace. Footstep after footstep, you wrap around and make your way back to the camp.

“Inbound,” You hail over comms.

The affirmative response comes just before you bust through the treeline. The low lying shrubbery proves a good enough position for you to dive behind, and you throw yourself down. The Kabs follow soon thereafter. But rather than being lit up in a firing line, the first few shots from your team are early, and they fall back into the woods. There is an exchange of shots, and for a moment you are certain they will shoot you in your semi-exposed position.

Instead, you hear their squawks and shrieks and then the sound of retreating footsteps. There are curses over comms, but the lizards slink back into the jungle before any of your squad are able to effectively dismount from their entrenched positions around the captured target.

>Hunting party. You and one other member of the squad will be sent to clear out the survivors.
>The mission was to take the camp and eliminate the target. That’s done. A few guards escaping is irrelevant.

(Shorter post but back to regularly scheduled programming from now)

>>5661168
>>Hunting party. You and one other member of the squad will be sent to clear out the survivors.

>>5661168
>Hunting party. You and one other member of the squad will be sent to clear out the survivors.

>>5661168
>>Hunting party. You and one other member of the squad will be sent to clear out the survivors.

>>5661168
>>Hunting party. You and one other member of the squad will be sent to clear out the survivors.