Only War: Warhammer 40,000 RP (IC)

[Jormengand]

Kora watched, as her gun was taken. Good riddance. She deposited her other armaments and went to eat, wordlessly. Aves-pattern MK1 lasguns always did that, which was why they were almost all scrapped. Of course, she never got a replacement, but she was one of the more competent users of the ridiculous armament, and it had taken multiple decades for full replacement.

She liked to think of herself as a veteran, but then, even veterans made mistakes. In fact, even comissars made mistakes.

[Alowwvia]

With a minimal effort, Jennifer pinches and severs the fibrous meat between her rightmost incisors, cocking her head a bit as she rips a sizable chunk of her make-shift sandwhich free. She had found it most rewarding to simply piling everything onto the two breadslices, and then eating it as quickly as possible. She knew not what that gray glob would ever be, but the minced vegetables made its bland taste acceptable. Not the best meal, but for a Guardsman, it was good eating. She slouches over her tray, eating in pace with Hess as she looked across at him, before turning her gaze at everyone else at the lunch table. Wiping a few stray, burnt-orange hairs from the side of her eye; along the lightly scarred, be-freckled pale face, she reviews her mental notes of everybody.

There was the demolitions lady who's laser weapon had made a good-sized hole in the side of their bunk that morning. Kora. She was an alright lady. A little... clumsy, maybe? Jenny smirked. She never much cared for the Lasgun. It just did't have the... charm, of a good Stubber. There wasn't any satisfying kick or feedback when you shot, just a burning zip. One shot you got, so you'd better of made it count. It was a silly weapon, she thought. There's two kinds of targets, Jenny theorized: People-sized and don't-fuck-with sized. While the Lasgun provided superior accuracy and penetration, Jenny felt that having a weaker weapon that can produce a high-volume of fire is a deal more effective against anything on two legs than a Lasgun. A Lasgun, even the automatic ones, simply couldn't lay down the same volume as the old slug-throwers. And besides, they didn't make as neat a sound.

Then there were the two opposites. The smelly old man, and the prudish young woman. Quite funny, watching those pair. Jenny often wondered how she ever made it this far as a Guardswomen; you think she'd be better accustomed to body odor.

Then there was the Catachan. He was... alright. He seemed calm, cool... for a Catachan. She could tell this man was skilled just by the way he walked.

And the Commisars?... They had an interesting dynamic too. Hess himself seemed a little.. benevolent for a Commisar. Not soft by any means, but certainly more understanding and tactful than most. Far less zealous than his Cadet, it would seem. And she herself was a massive woman, she noted. Jennifer'd first thought she was a Sister of Battle, but she was proven wrong as she saw the imposing figure was, unfortunately, second in command. And a lot more strict, based just on the events this morning.

There were others, but for now, Jennifer once again sunk her teeth into the sloppy sandwich, waiting quietly for the briefing to start.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Sargent Vrahon Murik

Murik quickly jumped to his feet and dressed as Colonel-Commisarr rang his little bell. He hated the damn thing. He hated it almost as much as he hated not having his own forearm anymore but it had become clear it was just a permanent as every other of the Colonel-Commasarr's standing orders. After about a minute and a half the Stormtrooper was fully dressed in his armor with his Chainsword hanging off his left hip. He stood at attention like everyone else, waiting to be personally dismissed by Hess and Hess only. While the Cadet-Commisarr could technically order him around as could the Major, Vrahon truly only looked towards Hess with admiration and respect. He followed orders better, fought harder, and trained more when the orders came form Hess. After all, one does not become Colonel-Commisarr by sheer luck. It takes years of practice and disciplined that Vrahon assumed nobody on board the ship -himself included- had.

While he waited for Hess to give him the 'At ease' order, Murik allowed himself to glance at Madison -The other stormtrooper on board- with pure disdain from under the safety of his visor. He would never be able to tell somebody why he disliked her or Kash very much besides a deep primal hate or fear of them. Something in his gut that simply screamed "Keep them way from you if you know what is good for yourself!". Though Murik didnt always like to rely on 'gut feelings' he had learned to. Many times before he had managed to survive the unthinkable due to his 'gut feelings'. Sword duels with Screaming Banshees, avoiding getting caught doing things he should have been doing as both a child, and even now keeping him away from those two freaks. It was as if he was his own guardian angle.

[Goldsaver]

Gratia turned away from the smelly man as the Commissar gave the order to go to eat. Hopefully her influence would have some effect. Gratia put her Hellgun and various weaponry into their containers, taking off her Carapace armor and revealing a simple Guardsman uniform. She marched with military precision to the Mess Hall, the Tzentchian Storm Trooper creating plans in her head for every possibility, however unlikely. She always had a plan to kill everyone she ever met. She looked forward to the Mess Hall; socialization offered the chance for her to worm her way in the heads of the Corpse-Emperor's servants, make them trust her, make them think she is their friend. She sensed the stench of the Whore God somewhere in the area, and she smirked to herself. The Hedonists were always so pliable, so predictable. It would be easy to turn whoever it was into a pawn, and a scapegoat in case of any Chaos-related antics.

She took note of the people around her; the woman who discharged his weapon. The Commissars. The Catachan. All had their own minds, all had their own weaknesses. All could be made into pawns with a few well placed words and some scheming. Turning her mind away from her schemes for just a moment, she filled her plate, not thinking of what was on it. She took a seat in the long table, waiting for the rest to sit and for the Commissar to give his briefing. She eagerly looked around, wanting to see who would come to sit next to her, the people she would have the chance to start to REALLY manipulate. She carefully masked her emotions, giving the appearance of a stoic Shocktrooper sizing up who would be her comrades.

[Treko]

As Ursarkar finished up his breakfast he watched as the rest of his fellow guardsmen began to get their food and sit down at the long table, with a last bite from the meat he stood and left his grey lasgun seating on the table saving his seat as he left to go put his tray away. Ursarkar placed his metal tray on a table were most of the guardsmen were stacking them before returning to his seat where he looked around at the people he was seating next to most of whom he had been on the same ship as him for sometime. Ursarkar grabbed his black rebreather and placed it back on his face and tightened the straps that attached to his helmet before activating the rebreather which gave a quick hiss before stopping, as he heard the hissing dissipate he looked at the woman guardsmen next to him, Gratia, a fine shock trooper even though he always thought she was everybody up. After thinking about Gratia he looked at the Catachan, Silvia, a man he hadn't talked to yet, but that would come sooner or later. As Ursarkar finished looking at everybody he grabbed his fur cloak and made sure it hid his left arm like it always had due to how the uniform was supposed to be worn, with a quick tug on the greyish black fur cloak it fell over his shoulder and his his left arm and covered half of his back.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Murik, deciding his armor was unnecessary, removed the heavy plating and placed it in his chest only leaving the Chainsword on his hip. He then walked into the mess hall and sat as far away from Madison and Kash as possible which landed him right next the Colonel-Commisarr. "Hello sir." He said while taking a seat with a sigh. "Not sure why but Madison and Kash give me... Odd feelings. You wouldnt mind if i joined you for breakfast would you?"

[The Nuclear Fist]

Unfortunately for Gratia, and rather fortunately for Damas, he was a psychic blank. That meant his was 'soulless', a void in the Warp, and thus effectively immune to its taint. The Tzeetchan woman's words fell on deaf ears, and Damas merely thought she was trying to give advice to him. Now, this was something he had heard regularly, and something that made very little difference. Unaware of her more sinister intentions, Damas merely believed she was a bit dim in the wits, and perhaps had not noticed that his pungent odor persisted regardless of his bathing habits. His brow furrowed and his heart felt a tinge of pity. Poor girl, she mustn't be terribly bright. I'll have to give her something as a gift. Perhaps I'll get the chance when we land? Thought Damas as Commissar Hess gave the orders to fall in line behind him and proceed to the mess hall. He did so willingly, full of zeal and loyalty towards his Commissar and commander. He enjoyed eating very much. It was one of the few things that actually brought him pleasure. Although he much preferred eating in privacy, in seclusion, he supposed this would have to do.

Once in the mess hall, Damas graciously enjoyed the food the overweight cook gave him. He had grown up eating the putrid slush that made up Valhallan cuisine, if one could be so obscenely generous as to call it that. He sat down at the edge of the table, sighing in relief when several of his faceless comrades, the ones inhabiting that half of the table, got up and moved to to get away from his powerful odor, allowing the Valhallan to eat his lunch in peace and relative solitude. He, unlike the others, somewhat enjoyed the bland, flavourless muck they served the Guardsman. It was uniquely bland, if such a thing was capable of actually existing. He savoured the vegetables, covering them in the gravy-like sauce and wrapping them in torn pieces of bread. The fish and the other mystery meat were savoured by the burly man, as he was not accustomed to eating meat. He noticed the woman, the dim one, was nearby. He hoped that she would be able to eat her food alright. If not, he supposed he could get up and give her some distance, maybe lean against the wall directly next to the table so he would still be able to hear what it was the Commissar was going to say.

[Legital]

Hess ate his food at a moderate paste, and systematically created a neat, meat sandwich. He was hungry, and he ate it in just a few bites. Flicking his left hand, his Chronometer was pulled from his pocket as the small chain was attached to his glove, removing it all in one quick motion. They had about twenty minutes left before it was time for the briefing. He nodded to himself, and went back to eating his meal as the Guardsmen sat around the table. He saw some motion to his side, and he saw one of the Stormtroopers, Murik, sit across from him. He looked up, and would have smiled if he could. "Morning Murik." He said, casually. He may be a Commissar as well, but that did not mean he was soulless. Hearing the man speak, he looked up again and listened to him politely.

"Huh." He said, thinking over what the man said carefully. He had read over everyone's recorded past in their dossiers. One was an exceptional Stormtrooper, and the other was an equally good Trooper. He knew that Kash possessed a hate for Commissars, as that was hinted to from some of the notes in his dossier. The other one seemed to have a rather regular Guard service, as much as that counted for.
"Well Trooper Murik, I will take that into account. Perhaps you could expalin to me why you have these feelings?" He asked inquisitively, but rather gruffly.
As for Murik, he also knew his record. The man seemed to have blind luck when it came to some things. Surviving a Banshee onslaught? Impressive, if not what some would deem impossible. But Hess had seen many things in the galaxy, and that was normal compared to some things.

[New Twinleaf]

Alison woke to the Colonel-Commisarr ringing his bell; she never really liked the bell, it was nothing like getting up back home but it got her moving, and that was good enough for her. She rolled out of the bunk falling to the floor.Damn it. She thought to herself as she picked herself up, proceeded to walk over to her footlocker, and put her armor on. Once everything was on she moved with everyone else to the mess hall, once she got her food, she moved away from the main group of people, and sat next to the Commissar and Stormtrooper. "Good morning sirs." she said to the two before she began eating.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Vrahon just sat and thought for a few moments before sighing aloud. "Well sir... Im honestly not quite sure." He started. "Its-" He cut off for a few seconds to ponder what to say before continuing. "-Its just a gut feeling is all. Not the first time ive had a gut feeling that has ended up saving my life. Im sure you have read the Screaming Banshee reports. I have the same exact feeling then. Odd, i know but ive learned to trust it." He said. He opened his mouth to say more when Allison joined them at the table and began talking, cutting him off. "Miss Kamarov, please wait a moment. The Colonel-Commisarr and myslef are having a more or less important discussion." He said in a scolding tone. He then went to start talking again but couldnt seem to remember what he had to say. "Eh nevermind. I cant recall what i was going to say. And sorry for the rudeness before, Allison, i simply dislike being interrupted by my subordinates."

He then got back to slowly picking at his food.

[Treko]

As Ursarkar listened to the colonel-Commissar and Vrahon talk about something heard Vrahon say something about gut feeling's saving his life "Gut feeling's don't save lives." said Ursarkar as his voice cut through the silence of everybody "And last time a checked saying good morning isn't considered rude. It's considered polite." continued Ursark his rebreather making his voice sound almost robotic. After speaking out for the girl Ursarkar sat down and looked at Vrahon "Maybe it is you who should learn manners." finished Ursarkar as his rebreather hissed again as his oxygen tank sucked in more air before quieting down.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Murik shot Ursarkar a dirty look before standing up and pulling up his shirt. "You see these scars?" He asked while pointing to his stab wound and then his robotic forearm. "Please do tell me how my gut feeling didnt help me win three duels with Screaming Banshees. Also how dare you accuse me of being rude when you are invading a private conversation. I recommend you remove yourself from it before do it myself." He then lowered his shirt and sat down once more. "Sorry Sir, where were we?"

[Legital]

Hess gently placed down the small cutlery piece, and stared at the two men. "Enough. Both of you." He said sternly, with force behind his voice and his eyes hard. "Whether a gut feeling saved his life is trivial at the moment. Now, I would like to enjoy my morning meal with simple conversation, not lessons in etiquette." He took a sip of his water, and returned his hard gaze. "Speaking of etiquette. Murik, no need to show off your scars at the eating table. Now, everyone enjoy your meals. Or just sit and enjoy the morning while you still can We have a long day ahead of us." Hess forked some food into his mouth, and then looked over at Allison. "How about you?" He asked, "You have been rather quiet."

More men and women began funneling into the mess hall, and the noise level was rising. Hess continued eating his meal, waiting for a response.

[Treko]

Murik shot Ursarkar a dirty look before standing up and pulling up his shirt. "You see these scars?" He asked while pointing to his stab wound and then his robotic forearm. "Please do tell me how my gut feeling didnt help me win three duels with Screaming Banshees. Also how dare you accuse me of being rude when you are invading a private conversation. I recommend you remove yourself from it before do it myself." He then lowered his shirt and sat down once more. "Sorry Sir, where were we?"

"Do I look like one to care about you war wounds." replied Ursarkar "If you won against three screaming banshees they must of been really bad in combat." continued Ursarkar as he returned the dirty look at Murik "Many of us have war wounds, but we do not share them because many do not care." said Ursarkar as he sat down "You call three banshees attacking you opponents...ha." continued Ursarkar as he looked at Murik then at another group of imperials "Do us a favor and spare us you war stories and war wounds." finished Ursarkar as he heard the Colonel-Commissars orders.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Murik didnt even glance at the other soldier. "I cant expect you to understand what it is like to be in my position. Where you have entire armies fight off enemy platoons, we have a single platoon going against entire armies. You troopers dont seem to understand the hell we go through daily and just because we receive better gear and better training doesnt mean we are instantly accustomed to pain and grief of watching those around us die. I would actually say we have it worse. We are a unit from the start and tend not to be separated. I have seen many of my brothers-in-arms die and have grown cold because of it. I often question why i havent been struck down yet. Every time i come close to death someone up above somehow manges to pull me out of the cold embrace of the afterlife. While I will not force you out of this conversion i will ask you to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. Please just allow our conversion to continue without further interruption ."

[New Twinleaf]

Alison while still eating her food looked over to Hess, swallowed, and then carefully replied "Sir I apologize for being quiet but I did not want to cut Vrahon off again, so I thought it would be best to be silent for the remainder of this meal." immediately after replying she went back to eating her food, while taking small sips of water.

[Treko]

Murik didnt even glance at the other soldier. "I cant expect you to understand what it is like to be in my position. Where you have entire armies fight off enemy platoons, we have a single platoon going against entire armies. You troopers dont seem to understand the hell we go through daily and just because we receive better gear and better training doesnt mean we are instantly accustomed to pain and grief of watching those around us die. I would actually say we have it worse. We are a unit from the start and tend not to be separated. I have seen many of my brothers-in-arms die and have grown cold because of it. I often question why i havent been struck down yet. Every time i come close to death someone up above somehow manges to pull me out of the cold embrace of the afterlife. While I will not force you out of this conversion i will ask you to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. Please just allow our conversion to continue without further interruption ."

"The conversation ended for me when the colonel-Commissar ordered it." said Ursarkar as he didn't even look at Murik "I do know your troubles." Ursarkar finished as he removed his rebreather and revealed the three large scare that ran from his cheek across his mouth then down towards his chest "I do know your troubles." Ursarkar whispered to himself as he took the disposable cup and took a sip of water before placing it back on the table and strapping his rebreather back onto his face hiding his three large scars away again. As his scars were concealed again he remembered how he got the scars which made him sigh as he though back to the memory, He was patrolling with his squad when they were ambushed by a cultist group that forced them into the icy tundra where they encountered a large six legged white bear that slashed is face with its large claws.

[Legital]

Hess took in a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "By the Golden Throne, enough!" He raised his voice at enough loud enough for people at the food line to hear him. The room noticeably quieted, but the sound level soon raised again. "Trooper Murik, you can quiet down, or I will allow Commissar-Cadet Victoria to administer the proper punishment for your unruly actions. Same for you as well Trooper Ursarkar. If this conversation continues on the same track, I assure you that Commissar-Cadet Victoria is not as forgiving as I." Hess continued eating, and finished the last bit of grey slop on his tray. "As for you Trooper Kamarov, you seem to have picked a wise position in all of this."

He then sighed. These men seemed have suffered from some truly horrible incidents. Those who are at peace with their past do not speak of it as if it was more important than his comrades. He read that from somewhere while he himself was just a Commissar-Cadet, and it seemed to fit in most situations.

"Have you ever wondered how I got these scars? Why I never smile?" Hess asked after a silence. "I have been tortured. Multiple times. One in particular left me unable to enjoy the simple motion of smiling ever again in my entire life." He then leaned in slightly to the table. "Do I use that to try and elevate myself over the next Trooper to instill fear? Perhaps make them feel remorse or sorrow for myself?" He glanced at Murik. "No, I do not. And neither will you." He finished, looking at both of the Troopers square in the eyes. "Now please, enjoy what left you have of your meal or sit quietly. Perhaps you wish to converse on something less of a heated topic so early in the morning?"

[Goldsaver]

Gratia listened to the two men bicker, and the Stormtrooper speaking of the horrors Stormtroopers had to deal with awoke something in her. As she finished her meal, she felt a horrible pain overtake her skull; she managed to keep a calm and stoic demenaor as she felt like her skull was ripping in two. She felt a surge of memories come to her from the woman she killed.

Death. Destruction. Anguish. It was not a single memory, but flashes of many memories. Brave young men and women torn to shreds by Orkz. A close friend impaled on the claws of a Tyranid Carnifex. The sight of civilians tortued to death by a Slaaneshi cult. Horriible memories, each one carrying personal pain as if she was the one who experienced them, as if she WAS the woman she killed. As quickly as she entered into the memories, she was snapped out of them. She had mantained a perfectly normal expression; no one would know what she just experinced. This brief episode worried her; she had not considered the consqeunces of absorbing the soul of the woman. But she pushed the thought to the back of her head, to be dealt with later. Gratia finished her meal in silence, obeserving others without a word.

[Nyr Hrafn-Heim]

Murik frowned and got up, knowing that staying would only have him at both the Colonel-Commisarr's and the Trooper's throats. He grabbed his food and then tossed it in the trash before offing a goodbye to the group excluding Ursarkar. "Good day sir. Ill be back in for briefing in a few minutes. Good day Miss Kamorov. Sorry for my actions before." He then offered a salute with his freehand and headed into the bunk room again. He then walked to his footlocker and began to scavenge for a few things. First he pulled out his armor and examined it with a grin. On the chest plate was a carved in target mark that would line up with his stab wound on his chest with the words above it reading "HARD TO KILL". He had carved it into his armor with his Chainsword while recovering from his severed arm and stab to the stomach. He then bent down and pulled out an old crimson regimental flag with a large hole in the center from when the powersword cut through his original set of armor which just happened to behis were he kept his flag at all times. Finally he pulled out his Hellgun which had clearly seen its fair share of battle. The paint was scratched and the barrel was marred with the obvious marks of extreme heat on the steel. He then suited up which took him less then a minute, taking extra time only to place his tattered flag in his chest plate before grabbing his gun and heading out.

Once outside of the bunk room and back into the mess hall he lingered to the side of the room, avoid all others. The only other Stoormtrooper -The only person he felt he could trust in the least besides Allison and the Colonel-Commisarr- made him feel as though he was about to be killed at any moment and he hated it but as always he decided to abide by his 'guardian angle's' advice to avoid her.

[Gideus]

Major Mallus Kreeg turned sharply as the Colonel-Commissar gave the order to the men to go to the mess hall to eat before they deployed. Walking down the hallways, hand on storm bolter and laspistol as it was natural for him at this point in his career, he arrived in the mess hall.

Getting a tray and the chef putting a few nearly indistinguishable food items on it, he walked over to one of the more secluded tables. He preferred to eat in peace. Sitting down, he was facing the central table at which the Commissars were sitting. Eating the meat-slop, he grimaced. He had gotten particularly good at identifying the slop that was served: this was Grox. Supernutritious, but void of anything that man would want to taste. The vegetables, obviously some genetically modified strain of corn and barley mixed. It of course retained very little of the sucrose that the corn originally had - couldn't have guardsmen having something sweet, now could you? The bread, a thin and easy to tear thing made from some form of wheat and other grains, managed to wash the bland taste away along with a drink from the metal cup. Water, recycled obviously, with the added taste of fluoride and other minerals poorly mixed in. As was the fair of the guardsmen, as was the fair of humanity's gears.

He looked up as he heard a heated conversation begin at the central table. Sighing, his meal almost finished, he began to remember who was involved. He would watch out for them in the field - and attempt to keep them as far apart as possible. No one needed discord in the ranks. Getting up, he walked over to Hess.

"Colonel-Commissar, if you don't mind, we should start general ready-checks soon." he said, obviously showing this man respect, while seemingly considering himself almost equal to him.

"Also... Children," he said, referring to the men who were showing off their scars, "Don't show off scars in the mess room. It's bad manners. Also, those are nothing." he said, as over the months in transit they had surely at some point seen that almost no skin on his body was not scarred.

"I will be in the debriefing and deployment bay, Colonel-Commissar. I will see you there." he said, turning sharply and walking there. When he arrived, he noted that his Sentinel had been moved there, and he nodded.

"Old girl... we may have use of you yet." he said, patting the mechanical leg of the machine.

[North Calaveras]

OCC: yay goldsaver and I are CHAOS!

Kash ate in silence in the mess hall and by himself. At a table by himself he "enjoyed" his morning meal, if it was anything to enjoy at all. His vision was blurry as he took off his visor and set it down next to his plate. The food sucked, for the most part. Sometime he would get lucky and find one or two things on his plate that were a little enjoyable, but most of the time they were alien foods that had little sitting in his stomach or mouth. He felt mentally tired, all the time in fact. By the dark gods how had his life ended up here, on some forsaken vessel with these murderers.

He couldn't see how mankind could continue to live like this, always fighting and trying to scrap away an existence, yes the Imperium was big beyond reckoning but the threats it faced were staggering. Whole worlds were recruited daily just to deal with some new threat. It truly is a gift of Tzeentch that they were still alive. However, he was not here to convert others, just to do his job and get the hell out of this unit when he had the right opportunity, hopefully turning the commissar into a pool of blood and shit in the process. Breakfast was at least relaxing for the most part, the group was able to sit and do something other than having the crap scared out of them by the commissar or being constantly bitched at.

He turned to face Gratia, her face mostly blurry but he knew it was her. He stared at her for a moment and a deep and disturbing voice sounded off in the back of his head.

Oh...What is this... The voice whispered before disappearing.

Kash didn't know what it was for a moment he turned to see where it had come from but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared. He looked back at his plate and sighed and began eating again.

[Al-Harbiyyah]

Farhan finally arrived at the Mess Hall after he is busying tinkering his Vox-caster that he is unaware that everyone has gone to the Mess Hall. He decided to grab a tray and grab anything that he can eat. After that he then decides to sit on the table where his commander, the Colonel-Commissar Hess is eating along with his fellow Guardsmen.

"Good morning sir, you don't mind if I sit here sir?" Farhan said as he sat down on an empty chair and put his tray on the table and began eating.

As he eats, he then decided to asks, "If I'm not interrupting your breakfast, could I ask where we are diverted to? I want to know what we will be up against." He said as he take a bite of his food before he continued, "Oh and may I also request new parts for the Vox-caster if you can? One of it's parts need replacing."

[Legital]

Hess checked his Chronometer again. Ten minutes left. He took one last sip of his water before placing the cup on the tray and looking up to notice his Vox-Officer had sat down next to them. "Morning, Farhan." He said before the man began to speak. When he finished, he simply shook his head. "That information will be revealed soon enough. As for your Vox, I'll see if I can get those replacement parts, or perhaps even a new set if you wish. You way want to run this by Kreeg as well, in case I forget to do so. There will be much happening soon, and I am afraid Vox-set pieces are not at the top of my list to remember."

Hess noticed Murik was back, and the man was sticking towards the side of the room, avoiding the others. I need to keep an eye on that man he thought to himself.

[Goldsaver]

Gratia caught Kash taking a glance at her, and she suddenly got a feeling in the back of the skull. She felt the sense of Chaos; she knew she was not a servant of the Corpse-Emperor. She looked towards Kash, giving him a brief, knowing smile. Regardless of who he was aligned with- as long as it isn't the Decay God- another heretic in a Guard unit was a friend. Gratia realized she thought Friend, and quickly corrected herself. Pawn, not friend.

She waited for the Commissar to give his briefing, having finished her meal.