Love & Krieg 2.0: Don't Die Edition

quick! show me your krieg models!

*goes off to find a pencil and ask his krieger to pose for him.*

Ok off to get some sleep. Don't kill the thread until then

Bump, because today is going to be a good day. I believe in the writefags.

bump

I wanna read this tomorrow

>51987842

Post was six thousand, one hundred, and thirty-four paces from the training ground, below what 4554 assumed was a military training center of some kind. Mostly intact, with thick walls and solid foundations, 4554 had worked hard over the last year to fortify his position, scrounging what he could from the various trainees, patrol sweeps, and the city itself.

The first of these defenses was a web of thin wires throughout the complex. Originally he had started with lines over each entrance, however the constant storms would wiggle the lines, so he had to move them further inside. Once they were placed in calmer locations, the lack of abundant wildlife ensured there were no problems. Each line intersected into a miniature network, six of said networks spread through the building. Six bells of differing tones were connected to each network at post. Ideally, if there were intruders, the appropriate bell would wake him, informing 4554 of their general location within his area of operations.

The lines, while mostly low to the ground except in certain, difficult points, switched to the ceiling and they converged into his underground home, to conserve wiring. In addition, some of the wires, if disturbed in the right section, would collapse walls and ceilings, cutting of access routes and hopefully reducing enemy numbers. A number of pitfall traps were peppered across his AO as well, many with spikes below, cameleoline tarps over them or, at least, some form of blanket covered in cement dust. The trainees often brought various digging implements to assist with their trench operations, and throughout the year 4554 had been able to procure various tools to assist his own projects.

In addition to the web and the pitfalls 4554 had tried to have every intact door in the building have wired lasguns aimed behind them, and in his eight month, fifteenth day at this post he had succeeded in this endeavor, boosting morale considerably. His final offensive preparation was to place a souvenir from a previous position, a remotely detonated explosive charge, underneath a nearby stairwell. Then he destroyed all other routes to the second floor. Should he have to abandon his position with enemies still in the area, one option was to re-position to the roof, collapse the stairwell, and slide down a thick coil of wiring to a neighboring building.

It was through this dangerous maze 4554 navigated, following the winding path he had set for himself to avoid his placed fortifications. A month into settling his new post, he had discovered a robust ventilation system permeating the complex, and quickly incorporated it. After discreetly moving over various wires and around a pitfall, 4554 bent low, flipped up a small cut cameleoline flap, and began to move through the vents. It was only a few minutes later he slid down into the small underground bunker he had taken for his post.

Now, here, Deserter 4554-0672-0097 finally allowed himself to relax.

He checked the Surveyor he left on his worktable for the radiation levels, and, finding them low (most days the radiation was within acceptable levels inside the bunker) he began to remove his armor and gear.
His routine involved cleaning, and switching out his gear upon return, which after seeing to his biological waste requirements, he proceeded to do. 4554 felt unsettled out his armor, and vulnerable, so he usually finished quickly.

He first sorted through the pack.
Inside was a spare powerpack, firesticks, a blanket and four days of rations. 4554 sighed in relief upon digging out the rectangular cubes of food. He opened one with his knife, cut a quarter off, then re-wrapped the package. After taking in the warmth he could function at his peak on a quarter ration every twenty hours for roughly sixty hours. This reduced his use of rations, which reduced how often he risked exposing himself. With this many rations he could avoid hunting for the next two iterations comfortably, which filled 4554 with excitement. He would have much more time for morale improvement.

After sorting everything away, 4554 grabbed the powerpacks he and his target had used that day and a firestick and moved over to the vent, where next to the entrance was the firestick of the previous day, above a charred section of concrete.
He placed the new firestick next to the previous, making sure it caught, and that it seemed functional. Then he placed the two powerpacks in the flames to charge. After that he began maintenance on the Long-Las, chiefly switching out the barrel which was starting to warp. He quickly moved through all his weapons and armor, switching out the knee pad, exchanging the mask lenses, and putting the leftovers and extras into a few bins in the corner, next to a large pile of unused firesticks. He would have to dust-scrub his armor the next waking he noted, it had been some time since he had done so.
Once he finished, he removed the powerpacks from the flames (now fully charged) began strapping himself into his flak, and put on his mask. He was ready for the next waking.

Having completed his routine, and being once again at satisfactory levels of combat readiness, it was now time for morale boosting activities. This waking, that meant the dataslate.

There had been many times, especially when he was littler, that he slipped up, made a mistake, and had been hunted. Most times a team of those like him were sent. But one time, just once, a very different group of men chased after him through the city. Masks of a strange design, gear styles he had never seen before, odd markings on their lasguns. Most of what he had acquired from them had been lost over various engagements, times he had to flee his post quickly. However, one thing he had always managed to save was the dataslate.
Initially, when he had powered it on, it had only details of various bounties. However, hidden deep past the official files and formal looking certifications, there had been a small folder.

Inside where thousands and thousands of text files.

Stories.

Most were of a type called “fantasy”. Worlds where things were not the same as on Krieg. Tales of males and females in the wilds, or part of primitive societies, of strange assets such as magic and odd beasts. The dataslate itself was old, the sharp metal corners worn smooth. But it worked. It inspired and instructed a young 4554 with many strategies and tactics he had been able to apply, in a void of formal training.
It also gave 4554 an escape from his hard walls, and the never-ending cold. Having no squad, or a “family”.”Friends”. The people in his stories had those things, and when 4554 read, he had them too.

Reclining on his makeshift cot, he read from twenty hundred hours to twenty-two hundred hours. 4554 then shut down the dataslate. He glanced about the room from his cot.

His worktable, to the bins where he kept spare gear he acquired, the tool pile in the corner and the pile of firesticks. Finally his gaze settled on a small golden statue against the wall. He leaned up, got off his cot and approached it.

This statue of the Emperor he had found in the ruins, covered in grime and dust. When he polished it though, it had shone. Deserter 4554-0672-0097 had kept it ever since.

He knelt before it. There were no words spoken.

4554 was not accustomed to speaking, and even if he tried, he felt that at this point it was no worth to his words. He had failed. He continued to fail. He was a coward, a heretic, a traitor.

It was a silent cry, begging for forgiveness, for a chance, for hope. Loneliness and the empty cold, of a dimly lit concrete room, under a city of the dead, on a world where there was only war.
Here, 4554 prayed.

After long moments, he rose. Moving back to his cot, he made sure a lasgun was next to him, lay down, and drifted off to rest.

He was woken by the soft chime of bells.

Spooky.

>Woken up by the soft chiming of bells
>it's probably an Inquisitorial team being sent to either eliminate or recruit him
>TFW either way

What I wonder is who the ones he got the books from were. I mean obviously not Kriegers. But who were they and why were they looking for him specifically? Or more accurately why would they come all the way to Krieg to look for him?

In the mail from chinaman

I wish mate, I wish. Maybe when I'm done working on the armies I'm already building.

bump

(Adventure of orks, kriegers and ork kriegers continue

Well not much for now, maybe will get more later.)

The night on the Rusted Lady was quiet and peaceful.
Guardsman were hiding in the barracks, scared of greenskin kriegers, paroling the halls, all the gretchin sleeping in there shelf like beds at lowest levels, Povilas and Ork commander left in one bed my mischievous greenskin...
Only real source of noise was mek's workshop, and that noise was not what usually came from then place. Instead of welding you could hear sound of wine glasses, instead of gretchin screaming from pain, woman's laughter could be heard and instead of mekboy shouting orders, he was speaking in almost understandable gothic.
Captain was still sitting with her favorite mekboy, there wine bottle was now empty and both of them already "warmed up" from the drink.
"Maybe we should get our lovely krieger to dance with Povilas?" Captain leaned forward. "Too bad we don't any music...." she sat back after realizing hole in her plan.
"Wait here" Mek stood up and walked behind one of the piles. After about minute of sawing, welding and hammering ork came back with a metal box in hand. He dropped it on the ground and gave it a strong kick. Few secounds later box started shaking and playing some sort of ancient peace of music.
"I could kiss you" captain smiled "Wait did I sad that out load?"
Mek slowly nodded, backing away.
"Oh then who cares, come here want to check if I still remember how to dance" captain jumped up from the chair and grabbed ork's hand.

bump

"draw me like one of your mordian girls"

OK

Strange question, how do you describe an ork and a rogue trader ballroom dancing together?

bump for the possibility of good endings

>In early M42, the Kriegers, for once, dig too deep
>digging their trenches in one of the oldest nuclear bomb craters on their planet, their entrenching tools unearth the rusted and rotten remains of the utterly ancient, 30k year old colonization vessel that, long ago, brought them and their kin to this world and one day crashed onto the planet
>a few files are found and coveted... by nobody but the Adeptus Mechanicus, as Kriegers have no value for cultural studies of the ancient times
>the ancient files detail a new type of warfare command pioneered by the armies of Jermani, the Whyrmackt and the Bondeswhyr

"Auftragstaktik", read the files. A concept of command that invovled the brain power of every single soldier. That held as its basic foundation of (in detail) telling every soldier what the goal, the mission was, and what the general idea of how the commander wanted to have it achieved was.

And then- just letting the subordinate officers, the NCOs, and even the individual men in the field go ahead and do whatever they thought would make the most sense to get that shit done.

Up to and including telling certain orders to go fuck themselves when it becomes clear to the subordinate down in the field that they are at best impractical or at worst directly counter to the intent of the commander and getting the mission done.

The Warhammer universe would never be the same, as Krieg moved up from WW1 tactics- to WW2. And as, somewhere in the deep, twisted passages of their brains, that spark of individualism was fanned into a steady flame, and the legacy of men like Rommel reanimated itself in their hearts.

As has not Sebastian Thor himself said:
"If I have deviated from the Path of Obedience, then only to walk the most holy path of all, the Path of the Emperor himself. For is it not written in the Book of the Astronomican: 'A true servant follows his Lord by following his heart, not his mind.'"

Krieg would never be the same again.

>Krieg evolves from trench warfare to Blitzkrieg
>They turn into the most mobile fighting forse the galaxy has ever seen
>TFW they can out-maneuver the Eldar
>TFW the Space Panther is born
>And it isn't a piece of shit

...

More importantly
>Kriegers start thinking for themselves again and regain the ability to have personalities
>CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

"Just as you asked"

>pastebin.com/BD9Ahms0
Voidborn and psyker are the same links

bump

That's not half bad.

Well it only took 15 minutes. If I sit down for another half an hour it might be semi-decent even.

Well even current Kriegers have personalities. Give Dead men walking a look. The Kriegers are Kriegers, but no one can deny they have some personality. In their Colonels case it's mostly snark, hatred, and professionalism, but it's there.

bumb

bump

Bump

bump

Maybe I will write something today

A little bump

bump

*taps the glass* anyone here?

Captain pulled ork to the middle of the room as ork didn't resist this unexpected action of the rogue trader
"Now stand like that..." Captain tried to make big greenskin to be ready for some old Terran dance, something to do with ballrooms or something of that nature...
"And now..." Woman took the first step, with her mekboy desperately trying to keep up with her as two set off to dance together.
First few dances didn't went well as ork fell down, almost pulling captain after him.
"Don't worry, I seen nobles doing worse then that" Captain laughed and kicked music box herself and it started playing another peace of music. "Now I am curios, could I teach you to dance faster then one of them?"
Ork just laughed as he stood up, ready to give that crazy idea a try.
And so two started dancing to the ancient music once again, sound of music attracted one of the paroling "Orks of Death Korp". Soldier opened the door of the Mek's workshop and saw at the strange dance in there. Krieger observe it for a bit, until anotother one came and ask what was happening. First krieger pointed at captain and Mek dancing. Second krieger looked at them confused as well and chose to stay.
This went on until the morning when two dancers finally stopped and heard applause of three orks of death korp, a group of gretchin and squad of guardsman.
Captain and Mek looked at each other, then at the group, then at each other once again.
"You boyz don't talk about this or I am shoving my boot up your ass so far that even painboy will have hard time pulling it out!" Captain released the ork and walked out.
"Wat boss said" Mek added and walked off deeper into the workshop.

I want more of the Cog and Krieg story. The knowledge of German military ranks impressed me and the indicated backstory of servitor and crew intrigued me.

There are a lot of people that want that one. I am not sure it will be finished any time soon

Proctor hasn't been in-thread for like 5 threads. Cog and Krieg is dead, sorry user.

bump

And now I have finished Psyker and Krieg. It was messy but heartfelt. The melancholic ending plunged deep into my heart.

Haven't read that one. Worth it? Consistent with Lore?

Weird. The Krieger MC is a wild case of a Krieger managing to be completely morally bankrupt and still in his position by virtue of being three ticks smarter than the rest of the regiment. Otherwise, read it yourself.

Who do you buy from ?

By what moral standard? Most krieg are what we would consider to be amoral anyway.

why does the Voidborn and Psyker have the same link?

Hell if I know, we'll have ro go back and fix that.

I still hold out hope for its return. I believe in the proctor.

bump from the east

Even buy our own, he repeatedly stole shit from his comrades and shifted blame of things he had done on to others. Complete cunt.

I hate taxes. I really do.

Okay I have a question that I'm going to put out there. I know I've been gone a long while and that was really shitty of me, and I should probably make it up to you. Keeping that in mind I'm going to put this decision to you guys. You want an update now or can you wait until morning so I can get some sleep? Don't mind if the answer is now, though if it is don't expect more than one post to tide you over until tomorrow. I'll try to post regularly over the next few days, although the large updates won't come until Friday at the earliest.

Patience is fine.

We can wait.

Go to sleep Batavi

Hmm..drawing or writing?

bump

Bump

Also does any writefags do story requests? Something with a Culexus, perhaps?

I don't know how two emotionless creatures would interact, could be interesting.

bump

bump for the night

A krieger trying to teach a Pariah common sense.

It woudl be a incredibly morbid lilo and stitch.

>It woudl be a incredibly morbid lilo and stitch.

Fund it.

Ah Emperor, he was talking like she did. He was getting far too used to speaking Krieger. Still, what he'd said was true, he'd just never really thought of it that way. It was just implicitly understood by most people. There had never been the need to think it through before he'd had to spell it out to her.

"Then the gambling itself is a diversion intended to allow for a reconnaissance mission?" She asked. She had a way of wording things that was quite different to anyone else he had ever met. Everything seemed to come back to military analogies. still, it was close enough.

"The gambling is still part of the social activity intended to improve the morale of the participants" He replied since he didn't want her to forget that bit. Morale was important, and she understood that. By linking it to morale he provided a good reason for the activity. Still, she wasn't wrong. "The gathering of Intelligence on their new units is a secondary objective."

"Do you have reason to believe that there is an issue with the units they have been assigned to which has prompted you to take this course of action?" The Medicae Inquired almost as soon as he had finished speaking.

"No," Rochas said "I do not have any intelligence that would lead me to believe that they are having issues with their new units, however, experience tells me that there are likely to be difficulties. There are often problems integrating replacements into squads who have become insular after long periods of uninterrupted service together. This is a common issue in amalgamated Guard units."

Damn did I oversleep. And then It was a rush to get out the door, so I'm sorry about this morning. Sorry this isn't really a full post. Gotta go before I get caught, so I'll just put this up for now. More this evening when I'm not looking over my shoulder to make sure no one notices I'm on Veeky Forums.

Enlisted (Sergeant, Corporal, ect.) are called by their rank, "sir" is for officers (and the rare Warrant Officer) and can be considered an insult to an enlisted servicemember.
-Note on this: If you start with one, stick with it and just hope for the best

24-Hour time: 0630 would be zero-six thirty, not oh-six. That fell out of use around WWII, Vietnam.

Numbers: Two digit numbers less than 30, 40 or so are pronounced normally. 77 would be seven, seven not seventy seven. Three digit is digit by digit, 157 would be one five seven, four digit like 4567 would be broken up as four five, sixty seven. Five and more follow the same pattern.

Gun vs. weapon: If you can carry it, it's a weapon, if it needs to be towed, mounted (machineguns are a grey area) or otherwise non-manportable, it's a gun. For example, an M16A4 is a weapon or a rifle, but a M777 howitzer is a gun. An M240B medium machinegun is a weapon when carried, gun when mounted. Usually. Same sort of thing would go for 40k weapons. The main weapon of a chimera could be the vehicle's gun, but an autocannon being carried is a weapon.

Explosives: They don't make fireballs, they just blast shit apart. The shockwave and shrapnel are the lethal part of this. Now, most IEDs are going to be mainly incendiaries. Make note of that for Orks.

Phonetic Alphabet: 40k seems to be back and forth on this. I'd check with a few books when it comes up just to see, but when in doubt, use NATO phonetic. More people know it than you'd think and it immediately sounds 'military'. Alpha, bravo, charlie, delta, echo, fox(trot), golf, hotel, india (may want to change this and a few others because, well, there is no India in 40k, but hey), juliet, kilo, lima, mike, november, oscar, papa, quebec (same as before), romeo, seirra, tango, uniform, victor, whiskey, x-ray, yankee, zulu. Last two could probably use some modification as well.

Radios/vox: That's going to be it's own post

cont.

Force Organization: From smallest to largest-
Fireteam (4-6 people), Squad (4 Fireteams), Platoon (3-4 squads), Company (Up to 300-350 people), Battery (Company, but for artillery. Usually around 200), Battalion (1200-1800 people, or 4-6 companies), Regiment (1-5 Battalions, seven being the most I've personally seen), Division... Depends a lot, usually a division covers an entire region of operations, but can scale up or down depending on the demands of the situation.

That you Emps?

Radios, vox... Oh boy, here we go... First off, radio operator here so this is kinda my shit. I'll keep it simple so I don't loose anybody on this. Because it gets kinda strange really fast.

Range: Range is dependent on transmit power, a simple combead may only have a few watts of power for example, and may get a 3-5 miles out of it. Similar to a cheap radio you can get off the shelf from Walmart. A larger backpack (manpack) radio like the standard Guard Voxcaster probably has around 10-25W of TX (transmit) power, and likewise has a range of 20-30mi. Granted, this is assuming that everything is in VHF Low, VHF High (think car radio frequencies. Also called freqs for brevity). A vehicle like a chimera or Leman Russ could probably get maybe 50-60mi of range out of it's vox, but a large antenna mounted in a forward base could see up to a hundred miles or so.

Security: Basically all military comms are going be encrypted. Don't expect anyone less than a Heretek or Necron to be able to break Imperial crypto. Eldar probably could too, but doubt they would really care. Orks, cultists and the likes won't have the capabilities to do so.

Jamming: Jamming can be done on a single freq per antenna (ant), and requires far more power than what on TX. So to block a combead, you may only need 10W, but to block a Chimera's TX? Far more power than is man-portable. Also, to jam an entire freq block (like VHF Low, or UHF) will require a lot of power, a lot of ants and a lot of space. Range will be limited. Real nice target for some Marauder bombers though.

Radio protocols will be it's own thing.
And nope, not Emps. Just some bored Marine.

Radio protocols: 'ere we go! edition
Callsigns are a thing. For example, if you have a platoon commander, and he's designated 'Smokey', the PCS would be 'Smokey' and the commander would be 'Smokey Actual'. First squad would be 'Fireball 1', so on and so forth.

Contacting somebody: Let's say my unit's callsign is Raider, and I'm in 3rd squad trying to contact the platoon commander of Fireball. The exchange would go something like this;
"Raider 3 to Fireball, requesting contact with Fireball Actual, over"
"Raider 3, this is Fireball Actual, send traffic, over"
"Fireball Actual, Raider 3. Standby for SALUTE report (not going to bore you with the actual report). Over."
"Raider 3, Fireball Actual, read loud and clear (also Lima Charlie), over"
"Fireball Actual, Raider 3. Solid copy, out."
Note: The person that starts the transmission has to be the one to end it. It's kinda like calling customer support, they're not supposed to hang up on you.
FORBIDDEN WORDS OF HERESY AND DOOM!
Repeat: On radio nets, repeat means repeat the last call for fire/airstrike. This makes for dead people. Use 'Say Again' instead.
Names and Ranks: Never use names or ranks over the nets. In case somebody does break into your nets and is listening, that's a dead giveaway to who is there and how important they are. Back to the previous example, if I was Raider 3, trying to report that my platoon commander was injured and required evac (casevac: Casualty Evacuation, tacevac, Tactical Evacuation. Minimal realistic difference, use whatever flows better.), he would simply be Raider Actual or just 'a casualty'.
Swearing: You have to be really, really, stupendously fucked to get away with swearing on nets. Like, I just had my leg blown off and somebody is poking me in the eye with a dildo fucked to get away with it. Find euphemisms instead. Saying 'Send it' with the right tone can easily mean 'Let the warp ream your ass' with the right intonations. Get as creative as you want, we sure do.

I should probably have put this in the first post, but this is all simply as a guide to take into consideration and just as a resource for how things are done in a modern, professional military. If you're writing about a backwater world's regiment, some (probably most) can be disregarded. Kriegers would probably be really uptight about this sort of thing. Cadians, same but likely not to the same extent. Catachans probably wouldn't give a flying fuck. So, take what works for you, but above all else, stay consistent in whatever you go with. Quirks can be quickly explained, inconsistencies not so much.

I'm gonna do a small episodic log about the logs of a Krieger on Braks
>Day one: It was a rough ride here. Not that it was that bad, I live on a radioactive shithole. We entered right above Vraks. We smased through the Heretic blockade, and we were prepping up the Valkyries. General Kleuffman was leading the main charge into the foray, one guardsman, from the 667th Horico Regiment, from the agri-world of Horico, was practically afraid. I told him to grow a pair, and that what might be there isn't that bad. Anyways, the hangar bays were opened, and slowly, we rushed into the void, down into the athmosphere. We were in for a clear landing, when suddenly, the damn heretics lit up the sky with Ack-Ack fire! The left with Houfmann, was ignited by one shell. He'll be with the emperor now.

Back to it!
Salutes, greetings and that shit we don't really do as much as we should:
Who rates a salute?
Commissioned officers like Lieutenants, Captains, ect. are saluted without question. Now, this only applies in garrison when there is a cover (hat for the rest of the world) worn. You see Lt. Bumfuckery going by outside the chow hall, you salute him (while still going wherever it is you're going), Good (fill in time of day here), sir. and carry on with your day. You see Cpt. Doodlenuts inside, "Good afternoon, sir", and no salute. Reason being, you're inside, therefore your cover is off. No cover=no salute. If you have some sort of helmet, kevlar, brain bucket, whatever you want to call it on, you're in combat (or the field) and therefore no salute. If you've seen Saving Private Ryan, remember the comment about not saluting the captain because it makes him a target? Same shit here. Maybe salute the Commissar anyway because he's a dick.
Warrant Officers: I've yet to see them come up in 40k because even in the real world, they're kinda obscure. I've been stationed on four bases and seen maybe ten. Maybe. Probably less. I can confidently say that your average guardsman will see a General before he sees a WO. So, don't really bother with them.
NCO: Non-commissioned Officers. Salute them only if you want to get hazed. Enlisted don't get saluted. Same shit as the whole "Sir" thing from the first post.
Junior Enlisted: Hahahahaha. Nope. They don't rate shit. I would know...

Standing at attention: You only stand at attention when called to it in formation or marching. In talking to a superior, you stand at what is called parade rest, which is similar but not quite as restrained. Granted, they both seem to be the same thing to the average person. Your mileage may vary.

>Day two: Damn! Well, we managed to form a circle at the landing site. The other force commanders, from what I know, have landed miles behind us!
>BRAWM!
>That artillery just took out the fuel depot! I have to remember my training. I need to do this for the imperium, and the emperor.

Hope this was of some use to somebody, if not, oh well. Kept me entertained for a while.

Would have been useful to me when I was making the 645.

Thank you marine user, that was quite informative. A question, have the errors in the stories reduced your enjoyment of them?

Not him, but:
Not using the military jargon is a non issue to most readers (I guess). Not having commas, on the other hand.....

bump

Commas are strange in English, there rules are not set in stone so to speak.

>You see Lt. Bumfuckery going by outside the chow hall, you salute him (while still going wherever it is you're going)
Arvo cunt.

Shit I remember that thread.
Straya best as always

Just throwing a friendly bump out before bed

bump

Hmm...I manged to finish chapter 1. Maybe I should start a new one