The Only Wars

Welcome to your campaign!
A blog for your campaign

Wondering how to get started? Here are a few tips:

1. Invite your players

Invite them with either their email address or their Obsidian Portal username.

2. Edit your home page

Make a few changes to the home page and give people an idea of what your campaign is about. That will let people know you’re serious and not just playing with the system.

3. Choose a theme

If you want to set a specific mood for your campaign, we have several backgrounds to choose from. Accentuate it by creating a top banner image.

4. Create some NPCs

Characters form the core of every campaign, so take a few minutes to list out the major NPCs in your campaign.

A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.

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Graduation
Redifining "On the job training"

While training the troops that would replace them when they leave for their tithe, the troops of the 1st Donitus were rudely interrupted by Tyranid Mycetic Spores falling from the sky and spewing forth hordes of vile xenos. None of the future PDF troops survived, which hopefully does not have a bearing on the survivability of the rest of the denizens of the planet. Currently, the troops are evacuating to the planetary capital to consolidate their forces and mount a counter-attack.

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Coup de Tyranid
Time to clean house.

After foiling a xenos plot to poison the food stores of the garrison, the brave soldiers of the 1st Donitus find that none other than the deputy governor is responsible for the treasonous acts against the armies of the Imperium. Bringing the problem to the attention of the local Commissariat, the squad responsible for finding the scheme is sent into the sewers to stop any escape. There, these ambitious soldiers went ahead into the sewer and found Tyranids…nasty ones. Preparing to regroup and move out, these brave warriors trudge through the feces to bring the fight to the vile xenos.

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Cleanup
This should end it...right?

After securing the planetary capital, the soldiers of the 1st Donitus mount up for a final counter-attack. With the bulk of the forces heading to destroy a new xenos structure that made planetfall, a small detachment left with a mysterious Inquisitor to meet with the leader of this new force. The Inquisitor and his team narrowly avoided destruction at the hands of some strange xenos vehicle. The rest of the 1st, tasked with destroying this mysterious structure, set upon the invaders. Their overconfidence would prove to be their downfall. A small squad was volunteered to actually destroy the gate. While they were successful, the vast majority of the troops sent did not return. The cost was so high, that the remnants of the first founding of the regiment of Donitus is to be absorbed into another regiment. The surviving veterans are not many, but they are proud, knowing that they saved their homeworld from certain destruction.

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The Last Light
Emil's regrets

Today would be Emil’s last day on the world he called his own. He had a feeling if he could not contact his family now, he might not have another chance to. Sarge gave him a moments reprieve to make the trip to the Vox station. Grabbing his kit, he took off at a jog towards the tent.

A queue had formed leading outside the tent. He thought of his brothers, sisters, parents and neighbors. He looked forward to hearing their voices one more time before leaving. The life of a Guardsman is busy, but he still had always managed to get time to Vox in or at least send them a letter. So much had happened and he wanted to be sure they were okay and to say goodbye.

The minutes ticketed by without any give to the line. He did not have much time to spend in line. Rumors began spreading of a technical issue. Those rumors were soon validated by the sergeant manning the tent. The caster’s machine spirit has gone silent and would not respond. The tent would be closed until repairs could be made. A roar burst forth from the men in line. Running out of time Emil raced back across camp.

The exchange of 5 Iho sticks secured him paper, an envelope, and postage form. He jotted down a quick message with the name of his unit, his commanding officer and a short blurb stating he was okay.

“…I pray to the Lord Emperor that you receive this letter quickly. Please respond as soon as you receive this. I will inform the Vox crews to contact me as soon as they receive your reply. Hope Jonathan and Jeremy are getting along better now, and tell Georgia that she’s not allowed to date until I have a nice long chat with her.

I love you all,
-Emil”

He slid the envelope and form into the mail slot at the mail tent and raced back to his unit. There was still a lot of packing to do and they had to be in orbit in a few hours.

Having never been off planet before, Emil was caught of guard by the sudden weightlessness as the engines cut out. He was sent airborne and bounced off the bulkhead. Though startled Emil quickly righted himself. With the help of some hand holds brought himself back down to the deck. The other members of the Prima Decima fared just as poorly if not worse. While the partner regiment the Genos seemed to have barely noticed the sudden shift.

A cry rang out from the viewports, “What the hell is that!?” Soldiers began making their way to the ports. Shouts of confusion and panic began to come from the men nearest the ports. Pushing his way into the crowd, Emil gasped at the site.

Hitting his microbead, “Sarge! Sarge! Do you know what is happening planetside?” His vision fell upon his world below, one of the largest exporters of refined Promethium in this sector, as her lands began to burn and boil. Lava flows tore across the southern hemisphere. A burning torrent raced across the surface. His eyes were locked on the planet below. Until the Black Ship moved into view.

The large red Inquisitorial I standing prominently on the side of the vessel. It lingered there for a moment before something fired outwards from the ship. It streaked towards his planet. In a flash of light it struck. Then another blazing inferno began to grow. Exterminatus.

Emil stood motionless. His home was dying. The life he dreamed of gone.

The purpose was clear, cleansing fire. It is why the Inquisition is to be feared. There would be no survivors.

“A quick death. That is all I ask. Don’t let them suffer and burn.” He could not tell where ground zero was located.

Loyal servants of the God Emperor murdered on their day of triumph. Everyone he loved would be burnt to ash. As a hastily written letter in an oven. Emil still stood at the viewport as the ship docked with the fleet. Today would be the last day for the world Emil called his own.

Exterminatus_Retribution.jpg

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Cracking the Sky
Not quite to plan

‘Two drinks was not enough,’ thought Emil as a sudden shift in the craft, slammed him hard into his seat. Notch sat stoic as ever next to Emil. The transport hull was dimly lit by the emergency lights. Red silhouettes of his squad mates was all he could see.

The ship rocked this way and that, luckily the seat harness held him solid. With shut eyes he began muttering, “oh holy lord, bless this craft so that is can deliver us onto war. So that we may die in glorious battle in your name…”

A nudge from Notch brought him out of prayer. Notch’s other hand was pointing out the view port, “what do you make of that?” his deep voice cutting through the roar of the craft’s engines and banging of equipment.

Emil looked out the view port, but didn’t see anything. That was just it though, the usually star filled sky was black and void. Warning klaxons blared as the ship cranked hard. Knocking the wind from Emil’s chest. He looked out again and he could see the silhouette of a long sleek angled black ship against the light of the planet beneath them. Tiny black specks began zipping quickly away from the void. “Fighters…” uttered Notch.

Their transport craft suddenly became engulfed in the fires of reentry. Clutching tightly to his harness, Emil cried through clenched teeth. “I knew I should’ve downed the whole bottle.” Notch let out a slight chuckle, padding the Amasec flask in his armor.

Through the flame riddled view port, hundreds of beads of flame hurtled planet side. Each bead a transport or gunship. His weapon specialist team was scattered amongst these various beads. They had all been through the training together.

“Grip the harness, tug the cord for initial burn, release your muscles, relax and land. Grip, tug, release, relax.” Commanded drop trainer Jax, pausing for chuckles. “You lockers will need to remember this should the landing not go to plan. I suggest a Iho stick on any successful landing.” He looked like any of the other Genos, tall, blonde hair, blue eyes. Tattoos of various drops were displayed across his body.

Jumping from the upper decks to practice grav chute deployment. Emil twisted his ankle on the first day of training. Though his injury cost them the first mock battle, he persevered and healed quickly. Continuing to practice the jumps on and off duty he and his team became adept during the months traveled. If he knew this when he was younger, it would’ve prevented a few broken bones.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” repeated Emil. This mantra kept him focused at the task at hand. Get to the ground. “Grip, tug, release, relax. Grip, tug, release, relax. Grip, tug, release, relax.” Sarge lost his lunch splattering the front side of the cabin.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” Something tore a hole in the side of the ship. Blood splattered everywhere.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” Doc was pinned to his seat by something.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” Blood oozed out the side of Constantine’s rebreather, he curled over in pain.

“Grip, tug, release, relax. Grip, tug, release, relax.” Sarge released his harness to help. He was thrown about the cabin as the ship jerked. Knocking the wind out of him.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” His squad a shouting.

“We’ll be coming to a stop, get ready to bail out. I’ll be taking the wounded.” Announced the pilot over the intercom.

“Grip, tug, release, relax. Grip, tug, release, relax.” Inertia buried Emil in his seat, and drove Sarge into the floor grates.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” Doors opened. Seat harness released.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” He was airborne and hurtling towards the tree covered planet. He had his gear.

“Grip, tug, release, relax.” With white knuckles he grabbed his harness.

“Tug, release, relax.” A Lighting flew beneath him. Imperial aerospace fighters were dog fighting with strange sleek black ships.

“Tug, release, relax.” A quick pull of his igniter and his grav chute whirred to life.

“Release and relax. Release and relax. Release and relax.” A ship exploded overhead. Covering Emil in coolant and debris.

“Release and relax.” Steering away from the trees, Emil headed for the drop zone.

“Release and relax.” As he neared the landing site, he blocked out the chaos around him.

“Release and relax.” Then just as he did in training, he boosted the pack arresting his momentum. Then gently settled on the ground, next to Notch. With a sigh of relief…“Relax.”

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The Inevitable Sleep
It didn't work

“…Mom? Dad?” There they stood, behind him. He knew they were there, he could feel them. His hometown exactly as he left it. The refinery building off in the distance, rising above the residential habs and smoke billowed out of the massive stacks dimming the burning sun. The cars and carriages sat empty along the sides of the road. He stood in the center plaza of the merchant district, and yet the only other person with him that he could see was the tall statue of a Space Marine.

“How’s your work?” said the soft voice of his Mother, just over his shoulder as she would do when she sneak into his bedroom. Often catching him procrastinating his homework.

He spun, but was greeted by an empty street. Down the road was the school. It sat silent, the lights were off and it was covered in the ash from the refinery. The bell rang.

“See you tonight for dinner.” His father always told him that as they would part ways for the day. The smoke in the air thickened. It grew dark. Emil closed his eyes, he could hear the footfalls of workman’s boots and laughter of children.

Opening his eyes he saw the massive doors were open. A figure moved inside. Vanishing inside the gaping maw. Emil began to run the 8 long blocks to the refinery. The sky grew darker and darker as he approached. A deep red light shown through the sporadic windows across the Gothic edifice. Bursts of flame erupting from the smoke stacks and exterior piping. His chest burned.

Lurching to a stop in the factory, the doors behind him slammed shut. Then with a mechanical click, locked. Sweat began coating his skin from the heat. It was blisteringly hot in the building. Rusted mechanical equipment surrounded his ever narrowing hallways. “One day you’ll be working here,” rang the voice of his father from the vox speakers on the wall. It was metallic and distant, “it’s a hard life, but it’s a good life in the service of the…” a gurgled static cutting him short.

Colored lines lead down the different hallways. The blue line lead to a passageway labeled offices. There were dusty windows lining the hallway, he could see movement behind the ash. Approaching cautiously, he checked the first one. Brushing away the soot and cupping his hands around his eyes he peered inside.

The room before him was immense and it appeared he was on the 2nd or 3rd floor looking down. Black figures stood in parade formation. Another figure walked up and down the line. From this distance though he couldn’t make out much.

With his eyes closed and the ear to the degraded window, he could hear better. It sounded like the speech the Geno’s Commander gave the first day the Runners had arrived to the flotilla. Though it was garbled and sounded like the words were being mixed up.

“Regiment First.” crackled the speakers.

Emil jumped back. A ghastly visage of his commander fading from the window. Disappearing with a grin. He stood there staring at the window.

A body slammed into the cracked tile floor in front of him. It let out a heavy moan and clutched at its chest. “Sarge!” Emil exclaimed. Then ran to his commander’s aid. Charred flesh, muscle and bone showed in the center of his chest.

Slowly a deep chuckle came from the vox speakers. Faydra stood several feet away, lasgun still smoking in her hands. A halo of light encircling her smiling face. “One by one the rest of your family will die.” Crackled the vox speakers. “All in the name of the… *static*” Faydra was glad in golden armor, holy symbols emblazoned across it.

Looking down, Emil discovered his mother in his arms. Her skin burnt and scarred, but it was her. Then she began to change, or face shifted to Emil’s father. The face kept changing, though each one was burnt and scarred. “You did not save them.” rumbled the speakers.

“Fuck you! You leave my family alone!” Shouted Emil. Leveling his plasma pistol. The whirl of his particle chargers igniting. He kept his finger on the charger.

Lowering the gun and standing up Faydra opened herself to be shot. Emil tensed on the trigger, “Why? Why’d you do it?”

Only silence.

Depressing the trigger, Emil tensed for the heated back blast. Nothing. Then the gun crumbled to dust in his shaking hand. “Because that is my wish.”

Faydra’s face had disappeared and was replaced by Roth’s. The bastard who threatened to kill them for doing their jobs. Inquisitorial symbols covered his golden plate. The plasma pistol sat firmly in his hand. It fired, once, twice, again and again.

Emil let out a gasp and bolted upright in bed. Covered in sweat he found himself in the small tent given to his bunk rotation.

“Emil? Are you okay?” Said a crackled voice from above him. “Was it that dream again?”

“Yeah.”

The face of his new comrade, Solomon, lowered from the above bunk. His often smiling face was plagued with concern. “You might want to talk to Noelle about this.” spoke his mechanical voice. The vox speaker implanted into his scarred eye socket. Swinging down from his top bunk, he snagged Emil his bottle of Amasec.

“This was Notch’s,” Emil took a swig from the bottle.

“Ain’t good resting on the dead like that. Bring bad luck and spirits.” Solomon sat down next to Emil and took a drink.

“We can’t just forget them either, else they’ll be gone forever.”

Solomon shrugged. “From how I hear it the Emperor crackle watches over the dead.”

They sat in silence, for some time. The steps of boots of the muddied ground and distant cannon shots punctuated Emil’s night time requiem. Patting Emil’s knee, Solomon jumped gracefully into his top bunk.

“Get some sleep, brother.crackle I hear we got work crackle tomorrow.” Spoke the vox speaker. “The Trickster god watches over us. Sleep well.”

Screwing on the cap, Emil slunk back into bed muttering, “Emperor protects the regiment first.”

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Staying Buried

Lieutenant Steele sat in the command tent, listening to the drone of both power generators and status reports from the camp. He was cleaning “Mercy”, a bolt pistol bequeathed to him from his dead friend. Perhaps ‘friend’ was too strong a word, he thought. The potential was there, certainly a mutual respect… Aloysius was jerked from his musings by sharp barking outside and more troopers being sent to do untidy tasks. “Boredom will kill this company before the xenos do” he mumbled. The Commander gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. After beginning anew his oft repeated task of cleaning the bolt pistol, he returned to his reverie.

The names, the voices, the faces. Aloysius is haunted by those lost under his command. It seems as though the Emperor himself is bound and determined to not let him forget the failures perpetrated while fighting in his name. A list growing ever larger, playing again and again in the good Lieutenant’s head. Day in, day out, not even sleep provides respite from wailing dead. They point their spectral fingers, stone cold judgement plain on their faces.

Commissar Stubbs, face twisted into a rictus of pain and rage.

Cornelia, his mangled form floating, head lolled to the side, staring accusingly.


The PDF troops, for whom he was responsible, scowling in unison.

When the members of the list gather, they cry out in concert, a wail so wrought with pain and anguish that it seems the stars themselves begin to weep. The only respite from this legion of the lost is taken from cleaning “Mercy”. When he is engaged in this particular activity, the moans of the lost dull, their forms become blurred, and the only thing that can be clearly made out of their existence is a light, sibilant laughter, almost a purr. So alien, yet so familiar. Perhaps one day, it can deliv…“I SAID, ISN’T THAT RIGHT, LIEUTENANT?!”

Rocked from his introspection, Aloysius looked up at his CO, bewilderment plain on his face.

“As I was saying, morale is dropping. We need to fix it fast. Steele?”

“Sir, unless we get our boots in the muck soon, we’re going to start tearing each other apart.” Suddenly, as if on cue, klaxons began blaring, people running from place to place, there was a palpable sense of fear and confusion in equal measure.

“Be careful what you wish for, Lieutenant.”

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Nature vs Nurture

The shocked look upon Giant’s face told Emil that something was wrong. The plasmagun still crackled in Emil’s hands. The echos of gun fire, were overwhelmed by the squawks and cries of the swarm of small flying xenos erupting from the foliage. Swiftly Emil trained his weapon upon the swarm. Thousands of small winged creatures flew into the sky and scattered away.

After a couple moments of extreme commotion and noise, the air became silent. Only the lapping of the waves, and popping of the large xenos’s skin bubbling from the super charged plasma could be heard.

Flashing before Emil’s mind is the horrible vision of the creature. It must have been taller then any member of the squad. It’s four hooven legs drove it from the forest cover in a flurry. A pair of large antlers protruded out from it’s skull. Beady black eyes showing hate and blood lust. The creature could have killed any one of us, had it not made its fatal mistake.

After erupting from the forest, the creature paused as if to rear up in challenge. Growing up on Cicatrius IV and living and fighting with the native Tyranid forces, taught Emil to quickly react. Those from the Prima Decima knew what to do. Plasma and las fire made short work of the beast. Whose burning corpse now lay some 20 yards away.

The Genos in our party looked at each other in horror. They obviously had never encounter beasts like xenos before in their line of duty. “Well done men, one more xenos threat removed. Stay on your toes there could be more of the brood in the forest.” Commanded Lt.

Breaking out of his horrified trance, Giant spoke up. “By the Emperor, it was just a damn deer!”

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Almost a month
Small Regimental Philosophy

—Week 1
Emil smiled as he and Solomon were promoted to temporary bodyguards while Faydra was in Med. During that week he had visited Faydra on multiple occasions, making sure that she was doing well. Discussed the state of affairs within the regiment and the mission in general. Emil was happy to see that Faydra was doing well. Her new cybernetic eye and surrounding skull was encased in a heavy plate. Still she looked pretty good.

Additionally, he managed to secure enough promethium to fill the canisters enough for each flame unit to have a full tank. He owed no small part of this to one of his recent lovers, Jill (another Prima Decima weapon specialist). After one of their work sessions, she mentioned that the Emperor must be frowning upon their regiment. The two spent sometime waxing philosophically and discussing the recent events. The loss of world and weapon. Emil finished with, won’t be much left of us if it continues like this.

—Week 2
With the Lt’s permission, Emil extended official Runnerhood to Lucky. However, Lucky simply dismissed the idea and continued to mope. “_Fucking bastard._” snapped Emil’s head. Stepping from the situation with a smile, “just remember we’re here if you need anything! We’re all in this together.”

During his shifts as bodyguard, Emil would help out where he could. Make sure only invited guests entered and to generally keep an eye on things and the Lt. Especially when the Lt went about weapon maintenance. Every couple hours or so, he would be looking into the bolt pistol. Cleaning it, wiping off smudges, or breaking it down then quickly reassembling it. The love and attention he gave his gun would make Constantine explode with pride.

Still Lt would often wonder off in thought, his duty would slide and Emil had to more then once, snap him out of a trance. This planet and its secrets must getting to the Lt, just like it was getting to everyone. They needed to leave, or find someway to pass the time better. “_I wonder how long this obsession has gone on for? I’ll need to speak with Faydra, and see what she says. If this gets much worse I should alert Cole._”

—Week 3
A surprise came today when a massive black package was left for the Lt on the landing pad. Found out it was gift from Ash. According to him, he found this after it fell off the back of a truck. Opening up the crate, we stood back in awe at the sight of a brand new, Leman Russ. Fully armed and armored with front Lascannon, side bolters, dozer blade, pintle stubber, and cannon. The Runners gave a shout of excitement.

Though our excitement was cut short as we weren’t allowed to use this weapon of war. As its power could damage this world. “_We can’t use this weapon of war for war? How long until they take our meltas, plasma, or Emperor forbid our lasguns? The Emperor must be spinning in his throne. Through might and power he gave us the galaxy. Now we can’t even use a fraction of might to help defend it?_”

—Patrol
Faydra was released from the hospital and we were tasked with patrol duty again. Instead of wandering into the forest. We decided to head south and cross the river. A convoy of engineers would build a small bridge to help us out.

—Across the River
The beach was a nice change to the blasted snow across the river. Still it was cold as hell and he was wet from falling over board. Luckily, the plasma gun in his hand kept him warm. His hands and arms were toasty and with clever placement of the gun, he had dried off most of his outer armor. Still he looked forward to getting back to base and changing.

Solomon and himself took the far right flank of the formation. Thus furthest from the river and closest to the forest. His right leg was getting toasty so started to move the plasmagun to his chest, when something caught his eye.

The forest was still, Emil squinted his eyes. Suddenly there was a flash of movement and a large winged beast exploded from the forest and was upon him. Sharp claws dug into his armor knocking him backwards. He stumbled. Something grabbed his arm. It tightened quickly crunching through the carapace. It twisted its head. Instantly something was wrong.

“HOLY FUCK!” Screamed Emil. He fell to the ground clutching the stump of his left arm. Blood squirted for the wound in wild arcs.

The massive cat like creature shook its head. Blood and sinew erupting from its mouth. The arm dangled limply from one side. A deep growl billowed from between its teeth.

Kicking away with his feet, Emil scrambled away from the growling xeno. Emil let out another scream as it lunged for him. Though it fell, smouldering a couple feet short. His family had dropped the xeno just in the nick of time.

Emil’s head was swimming, he was pale, and clammy. He just kept looking at where his arm should have been. His breathing quickened and he started to panic by the time Doc arrived. With a deft motion, Emil was calming down. A syringe was sticking out of his right arm.

With a smile he looked up at Doc. “Thanks man. That fucking hurts…by the Emperor,” Emil chuckled. He lolled back and let his hand slip to the side. Enjoying the Stimms pumping through his system. He could still feel the pain, but he didn’t care. Something was nagging him though. Something was wrong, missing, maybe? Emil, put it out of mind.

Then almost as quickly as he started Doc had a bandage around Emil’s stump. When doc released his arm, Emil chuckled and waved at the rest of the Runners. “Hi guys, looks like I’m gonna need a new arm! Maybe, maybe one with like a Lascannon or some shit! What do you think Sarge, I mean Lt.?” Something was missing.

“We need to get you back to the base, stop wriggling so much.”

With the help of Doc and Solomon, Emil hopped back to the Chimera. “Man I gotta get out of these clothes, they’re soaked.” Find out what’s gone.

The rest was a pleasant blur, Doc gave him another dose of Stimm that he used readily. He remembered something about the hot Geno chimera pilot and his pants, but he was pretty out of it at the time. Until he returned to camp. His shaving mirror was gone.

—After Emil got his shiny new arm, a deafening explosion washed over the camp
Emil squinted as he and doc burst from the medical tent. The camp is alive with the chaos of panic and confusion. The echo of the explosion washed back over the camp from the mountain. A black cloud of debris and fire escorting the smoking hull of a distant Star Ship.

Looking around, Emil caught Twitch by the shoulder and spun him around. “Twitch, buddy hey? Who’s ship was that?” Said Emil in a calming voice, motioning to the charnel ship.

Twitch shook his head, frantically spouting, “that? That was the Inquisition’s ship. Headed for the fleet. Just took off…”

“The fleet you say, I heard about that,” trying to remain calm.

“Yeah…Can I go? I gotta go talk to command.” Twitch looked around confusedly, as people were darting in all directions.

“Oh what about?”

“Well, three outcasts are missing.”

“Oh that’s not good…” pausing, in thought. Twitch itching to go. “Wait, what were you doing with the outcasts?”

“Not..nothing, I mean, I wasn’t.” Stammered Twitch.

“Sure, well you better run along and let Lt know.” With a pat, Emil ushered Twitch away. Twitch quickly turned and took off. “We should talk later!” Shouted Emil after him.

Stepping out of the press of the bodies, Emil’s hand gripped tight onto Doc’s arm. Wheeling around the flabbergasted medic, Emil brought his head close. Glaring into Doc’s eyes, “alright buddy, the Lt will probably try to round up and detain or kill the outcasts.” A look of confusion spread over Doc’s face. “He won’t be thinking clearly, you can’t blame him.” said Emil through a wide grin.

“Now I know you hang out with them. Do us a favor for both us and the regiment, tell them to hightail it out of here. I will handle the Lt and try to calm him down.” With a nod and smile, doc took off into the crowd.

“_I need to have a meeting with Faydra and Cole._” thought Emil as he disappeared into the chaos around him.

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