Viktor Stahl POV
Day 5
Spending almost a whole week in an improvised field camp while not as bad as I thought would be, is still pretty uncomfortable. I feel like it is said a lot however modern plumbing and AC are some of the things people take for granted. Being stuck in what is essentially an African savannah as far as I can tell does not do well for the quality of life.
Regardless, such things are merely minor inconveniences compared to the Grimm pests. If I didn't have the perk of the CYOA that allowed me to be at the pinnacle of every discipline the death corps of Krieg practice I would not be able to sleep through a whole night of firefights and explosions.
To be completely honest with myself, the main reason I am even alive until now is the fact my mind, body, and to a certain extent, personality, have been warped by the perk. A normal 20-year-old from 21st-century Earth would most definitely have bitten the dust by now even if they possessed the other perks of the CYOA.
Ironically it is the same perk that makes me unable to allow myself to have an existential crisis, so I have that going for me. Back to the present though, currently I am in my office, reading the latest report on the condition of the camp. Besides me is a map that covers the surrounding 10 kilometers, scouted and drawn by the Death Riders.
Currently a squad of 5 individuals, the Death Riders are the cavalry unit of the Death Corps of Krieg. They are the direct product of the centuries-long civil war on the Krieg homeworld, most famous for their formations and the legendary Krieg steed. A 'horse' if you are generous enough to call a bioengineered horror as such.
The Krieg steed is genetically tailored to be superior to the normal Terran horse, be it in strength, endurance, durability, or even ferocity. They are implanted with subdermal bio-armor as well as additional organs that allow them to charge in and out of toxic wastelands as if they were trotting through green fields.
Having had these few days to familiarize myself with the Krieg guardsmen under me, I have been able to separate them into different compartments. Some of them even displayed an initiative in choosing their own name, one of them being Dr. Ludwig. Who was made the leader of the quartermasters, what passes as the medical-oriented part of the Krieg Death Corps.
Quartermaster is the role that has replaced the medical part of the Kriegs Corps, the reason for their name is that in the Kriegs Corp as long as one is unable to be put immediately back on the fight they are considered lost, and are granted what the kriegsmen call the 'emperor's mercy'. A painless execution on the field. The role of the quartermasters is to retrieve whatever gear the fallen soldier has had on him, be it their weapon, grenades, or even uniform if in good enough condition to be reused.
Since my perks make that point moot, Dr. Ludwig has seen to orientin his department to a more… 'conventional' way of operation, even if some of his practices are confusing at best.
As I finish checking the reports, one of the kriegsmen operating the radio approaches me, "Commissar! I have a report, one of the Kriegsmen we were in contact with has reported detecting tracks of human activity." I nod and get up from my desk.
Walking towards the radio station I motion for one of the kriegsmen operating it, "Get me in contact with the guardsman that found traces of activity." as I sit down I am handed a headset connected to the Master-Vox.
Pushing the button on the side of the headset I begin, "This is Commissar Stahl speaking, identify yourself." stopping the pressure on the button I wait for a response, and a few seconds later the voice of a young man responds.
"Sir Commissar! I am number 21, I have yet to choose a name for identification." nodding at that I continue.
"Greetings Kriegsman 21, I have been told you have discovered signs of human activity, explain to me what you have found."
"Yes Sir Commissar, about 10 minutes ago, while I was making my way towards the camp to join the rest of the company I ran into what seems to be tire tracks. From what I can tell there are 4 vehicles in total."
Thinking about the words for a few seconds I turn towards the radio operator, "I want you to bring me the coordinates of his location." seeing the Radio operator salute and get to work, I return to the call. "Kriegsman 21, stay in position we will come to your location soon, Commissar Stahl out."
Getting the headset off of my head I stand up and make my way outside of the tent, looking around I can see 3 kriegsman standing guard with a heavy bolter, the only signs of its usage being the holes on the ground in front of the position. Looking at the place it seems another Ursa had decided to charge into death, the barbed wire in that location having been thrown around and dragged towards the trench for a few feet.
Turning my head away I start walking towards the chimera, my thoughts whirling with possibilities now that we have practically confirmed the presence of other people nearby. Making contact would be optimal, however, I am not holding high hopes, there are two possibilities as to who we may meet. The first is settlers, or frontier people, making a life out here in the savannah despite the threat of Grimm, the other being bandits, on which I am leaning more towards.
From what I can guess, we are either in the kingdom of Vacuo or in Menagerie. Those are the only two locations I can remember that have arid climates in RWBY. If we are in vacuo then there is a higher chance that those people may be settlers, because even if not in the scale of Vale or Atlas, they would have enough resources to send out settlers.
While menagerie is basically a death world Australia, with everything from the fauna, geography, as well as the people. The reason I am more certain about those people being Bandits is because Menagerie as an analog to Earth Australia would have been the dumping ground of the kingdoms for their undesirables.
If my bet turns out correct, there is a very high chance that we will enter combat. As such it would befuddle me if we went out in any other way than overgeared. Walking at one of the clearings of the camp, which now holds more than 30 kriegsmen at any time, I summon 2 centaurs, support vehicles manned by a driver and a gunner, featuring a mounted heavy stubber that can be dismantled and used in creating cover for dismounting infantry.
Towed behind one of them is a heavy mortar, an upscaled version of the regular mortar used by the imperial guard. Being significantly larger the heavy mortar is only usable if towed around by a vehicle like the centaur, or dedicated mortar carriers. The reason I summoned one to take with us is its main advantage, the amount of shell types that can be used for it.
Anything from high explosive shells to decimate enemy camps or supply lines, to fragmentation rounds to eliminate infantry, or even melta shells, A particularly nasty tool. Melta shells upon impact undergo a sub-atomic reaction that releases intense heat, they are capable of destroying armored vehicles and even turning enemy troops to ash.
Besides the mortar and a wide variety of shells stored in the centaur, I also stored portable Melta guns for individual use, they are frankly the only guarantee I have against this world's aura blessed people. Let me see your fancy soul shield that absorbs kinetic energy shrug off a beam of tens of thousands of degrees centigrade.
With a blow to the whistle attached to my neck in a string necklace I shout, "Attention! I need 10 men for a recovery and reconnaissance mission, there is a high chance of confrontation and combat during the operation." at my words, it seems as if the whole camp freezes, almost 20 people rushing forwards and lining up in a neat row in front of me.
Palming my face i think to myself, 'honestly, what did i expect? These morons make bets, with the reward being having a post at the trenches to guard the camp of grimm.' i slide my hand down my face to reveal my eyes that scream exasperation. 'Honestly? It would be endearing if i didnt have to bring back one of them every other day, because they keep getting torn apart trying to fight beowolves with shovels.'
I point at four of them who seem to have a more developed physique, not that i can tell much through their uniform. "You four, you will be manning the heavy mortar if we need to use it," pointing at another two, these seemingly shorter and a bit slimmer, "you two will act as drivers for the centaurs," pointing at another one, i say "you will be manning the heavy stubber mounted on the centaur towing the mortar, i will man the other one."
Taking a few seconds to decide, i randomly point at three more kriegsmen, two seeming average in appearance and one a head shorter than any of the lined up men, "you will be sitting on the front centaur with me, each of you will grab a melta gun for the duration of this mission." i wave the rest off "dismissed."
After finishing my picks, i can see the kriegsman that were not chosen slump and go back to their previous duties, turning my head to the lined up soldiers i picked i say, "well what are you waiting for? An invitation? Chop chop people." with a salute they hop on tier designated spots, ready to take off.
Jumping on the lead centaur and racking the heavy stubber to check the chamber i order, "fire them up, we will be heading east towards this location." after showing the driver the coordinates of the waiting kriegsman he flicks a switch on the console, firing up the Culcanor 8 twin-coupled multi-fuel powerplant. With the roar of the unholy combination of a turbine engine and a v8, we make our way out of camp, entering the wilderness of the savannah.
With the flat ground and the soft dirt underneath it doesn't take much time before the centaurs are cruising at a comfortable 60km/h. Turning my head around I manage to catch a glimpse of wilderness, a herd of what I assume are antelopes…? Deer like mammals, scamper away from the noise of the engines.
As the herd begins to part in the middle, as if a boulder is on the way, I manage to see a beowulf emerge from among them, gunning it straight toward us. I turn my heavy stubber towards it, take aim, and let it go. With the roar of an angered beast, the weapon spits out a trail of Long 8.25, taking off the entirety of the Grimm's front end.
Letting go of the trigger, the front end of the twin barrels emit smoke as the bright red starts fading from them, 'this is fucking awesome,' glancing at the weapon i remove the banana shaped magazines that are now empty and motion to the short kriegsman, "guardsman, give me two belt-fed box magazines,"
"Yes commissar!" with a surprisingly squeaky voice they- now apparently she, respond.
Taking the ammo boxes, I mindlessly reload them as I raise my head towards the Grimm I performed an excessive lobotomy on, now seeing a whole pack trample over its still evaporating body. With a small smirk I rack the stubber and retake aim, 'Oh this is gonna be fun.'
2 hours later
With the centaur climbing over a slightly raised portion of dirt, we come into view of a watering hole, bringing up my binoculars i can observe a buch of animals that further provide support to my theory of being in 'space' 'remnant Australia'. Through my binoculars i can see a few hippos, birds of all types of colours… and a kriegsman with a bloody shovel sitting on top of a 7 foot long crocodile.
Motioning towards his direction i order the driver, "pull us there, i can see our lost boyscout." with another roar the centaur begins to climb down in the watering hole, the rumble of the engine scaring off all of the birds, and making the bigger animals create distance.
As we approach the kriegsman he stands up in a salute, jumping off from the centaur, the driver killing the engine he greets me, "Commissar! Guardsman Hans reporting for duty!" with a nod imotion for him to be at ease.
"At ease, i see you have decided on a name?" i question, feeling good for another of my men finding that… spark.
"Yes sir, it feels very appropriate in a way i cannot explain." now more relaxed he responds.
Putting a hand on his shoulder i say, "it seems the emperor has favoured you brother," removing my hand from him i motion towards the other centurion, towing the heavy mortar with it, "for now hop onto the transport, we will be tracking the signs of activity you managed to discover until we can contact the locals, i refuse to stay ignorant on the state of our new apparent home."
With a salute he moves to enter the transport, "hold," i stop him and motion towards the crocodile corpse on the ground, "take it with you, emperor knows i am tired of eating kale tasting nutrient paste for almost a week."
As Hans drags the crocodile to load it into the centurion, two of the mortar gunners hop down to help him, knowing they have dinner covered for tonight i move towards the visible tracks on the muddy ground near the watering hole, 'just as reported, 4 different tire marks. Odds are they are trucks transporting water or hunted game.'
Satisfied with my examination i move back on the centaur, hopping on the gunner's position i slap the roof above the driver, "let's go, those marks are at least a day old, I want us to make as much ground as we can while there is daylight." inspecting the heavy stubber and not finding any fault I continue, "I do not want to be caught without a basic perimeter up tonight."
Throwing a last look at the watering hole, seeing the animals start to gather once more now that we are getting further away I turn around and ready myself for a few boring hours, 'shooting beowolves got boring after the third pack, after that, it became a point and click game.' i inwardly sigh as the only sound to greet me is the roar of the centurion's machine spirit. 'Wait… do these things have a machine spirit? I… kind of hope so, it should be fine if we take care of them well… right?'