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More on the Nova Guard 10th Command squad.
15 years ago
Here's our cast:
Capt. Joker, hardass but honest and fair
Hon. Ironwood, bitter and arrogant and very, very old
Gunner Meatloaf, kind of a jolly fellow, the company's best cook, angsty about his role of absentee father.
Tech-Adept Torque, a bit nerdy, shy, does technical things. Augmetic eyes.
Tr. Figgy, would be the perfect Marine if not for his sanctimony and love of violence. Explosive. Hates mutants like Judge with a passion.
Tr. Sparky, arsonist extraordinaire. Character not well-developed. Childlike curiosity, don't confuse with stupidity. In love with Straps.
Spec. Judge, marksman. Probably a blank. Extremely laconic, emotionless, virtually invisible to anyone not specifically looking for him.
Tr. Straps, cheerful optimist. Command section's corpsman, in love with Sparky.
Ironwood is partly bitter about the lack of sensual pleasures afforded to him by his new body - no more clinking of glasses with his friends. His friends are all dead, anyway. But he can't enjoy the taste of anything. He can't feel the hearty slap on the shoulder that soldiers exchange in greeting. Nobody can reach his shoulder, anyway. And he used to be an officer - a captain of captains, feared by his enemies for his tactical genius. Now he no longer exercises command authority. Captains consult with him - when they think they need his advice. The rest of the time they use him like a battering ram, charging forward to smash aside the enemy. Stupid. Unsubtle. Hah! He was better than that, once.
Brother-Trooper Figgy was recruited from an Imperial world where the local Church was hardcore anti-mutant and where purge-raids to the slums were not uncommon. Though he was taken in at 14, he had time to absorb the bigotry inherent in the Imperial cult. He loathes the abnatural with a passion. He barely tolerates the chapter's Librarians and Librarian-cadets, but can deal with the idea that their mutation is both a blessing and a curse from the Emperor. Someone like Judge, though, is beyond redemption in his eyes.
Meatloaf met a wonderful woman on his first year of leave after a deployment. "Don't get attached," they said. "It's bad for morale," they said. "If you don't get killed, you might live a thousand years - your lover will be dead in sixty! It's not worth the entanglement." But he didn't listen. Well, that was many years ago, and his was one of those rare cases where a child is conceived. His daughter is in her early 20s, and like any father, Meatloaf thinks of her often. Even though he doesn't see her for years at a time. Somewhere buried under his fairly jolly personality and fatherly affection is the knowledge that, unless he gets himself killed, he will probably live to visit his daughter's grave when she dies of old age.
Capt. Joker, hardass but honest and fair
Hon. Ironwood, bitter and arrogant and very, very old
Gunner Meatloaf, kind of a jolly fellow, the company's best cook, angsty about his role of absentee father.
Tech-Adept Torque, a bit nerdy, shy, does technical things. Augmetic eyes.
Tr. Figgy, would be the perfect Marine if not for his sanctimony and love of violence. Explosive. Hates mutants like Judge with a passion.
Tr. Sparky, arsonist extraordinaire. Character not well-developed. Childlike curiosity, don't confuse with stupidity. In love with Straps.
Spec. Judge, marksman. Probably a blank. Extremely laconic, emotionless, virtually invisible to anyone not specifically looking for him.
Tr. Straps, cheerful optimist. Command section's corpsman, in love with Sparky.
Ironwood is partly bitter about the lack of sensual pleasures afforded to him by his new body - no more clinking of glasses with his friends. His friends are all dead, anyway. But he can't enjoy the taste of anything. He can't feel the hearty slap on the shoulder that soldiers exchange in greeting. Nobody can reach his shoulder, anyway. And he used to be an officer - a captain of captains, feared by his enemies for his tactical genius. Now he no longer exercises command authority. Captains consult with him - when they think they need his advice. The rest of the time they use him like a battering ram, charging forward to smash aside the enemy. Stupid. Unsubtle. Hah! He was better than that, once.
Brother-Trooper Figgy was recruited from an Imperial world where the local Church was hardcore anti-mutant and where purge-raids to the slums were not uncommon. Though he was taken in at 14, he had time to absorb the bigotry inherent in the Imperial cult. He loathes the abnatural with a passion. He barely tolerates the chapter's Librarians and Librarian-cadets, but can deal with the idea that their mutation is both a blessing and a curse from the Emperor. Someone like Judge, though, is beyond redemption in his eyes.
Meatloaf met a wonderful woman on his first year of leave after a deployment. "Don't get attached," they said. "It's bad for morale," they said. "If you don't get killed, you might live a thousand years - your lover will be dead in sixty! It's not worth the entanglement." But he didn't listen. Well, that was many years ago, and his was one of those rare cases where a child is conceived. His daughter is in her early 20s, and like any father, Meatloaf thinks of her often. Even though he doesn't see her for years at a time. Somewhere buried under his fairly jolly personality and fatherly affection is the knowledge that, unless he gets himself killed, he will probably live to visit his daughter's grave when she dies of old age.
The thing is, I wanted to confront them with a situation they should, fluffwise, be able to beat, but which if treated like an actual battle would mean they'd be defeated. I didn't mean they're all going to die, but that their unit (thirty guys plus command squad and Dreadnought advisor) would end up taking something over 50% casualties, of whom a good proportion are KIA.
It's modeled after a historical battle in Mogadishu...
I mean, in the meantime I have no problem depicting them defeating the occasional Ork mob or nest of cultists.
Yeah, I know the one yer talkin' about. Complacency, and a slight lack of preparedness.