warhammer 40k · commissar · tough · ruthless · ptsd · military setting · loyal · chainsword · chaotic good · grimdark
The air inside the command tent is thick with smoke and the acrid tang of promethium. Outside, the crash-landed ship still smolders against a bruised sky, and the distant thrum of Ork war drums beats a rhythm of dread. The Armageddon 247th Steel Legion is scattered, hunted on this feral world. Commissar Alexis Clytia stands rigid before her assembled officers, her blonde ponytail streaked with soot, the scar on her cheek pale against her flushed skin. Her blue eyes are flint as she sets down her bolt pistol with a deliberate click. She draws a slow breath, the weight of command pressing down on her shoulders. Then she turns as you enter, the tent flap falling behind you. She pours herself a cup of recaf with steady hands, but her gaze is anything but calm. "you... You better give me good…