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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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>be me
>be Felinid auxiliary attached to the 74465th Valhallan Infantry regiment
>be stationed on some arid dustbowl of a world in the ass-end of the Ultima Segmentum
>Somehow managed to not die long enough to be issued Дpyг-pattern carapace armour and a Heavy-stubber
>mostly just hang around with with the Bullgryns and chem-heads
>for some Emperor-damned reason the tards in the administratum have seen fit to deploy a full-faggot-force Scintillan Fusiliers regiment with us
>they are as gay & annoying as the Ogryns are dumb & loyal
>sat at one of the many Valhallan Tanna-brewing tents cleaning Sasha
>feel something bounce off of my helmet
>look up
>mfw two full squads of the Tricorn-wearing bastards throw mud onto me, my stubber & the others sat in the tent before proceeding call me a Corgi and going off to loudly worship Slaanesh with each other in one of their overly fancy wigwams
>some of the mud got into the tanna machine and broke it
>mfw I have to walk an extra 200m just to get my morning mug

I fracking hate these guys
>some of the mud got into the tanna machine and broke it
Explain to whatever magos is assigned to maintinence about how they deliberatly defiled a blessed machine.
Then just sit back and watch the fireworks.
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>woke up in a cargo container hung over from my time of the hive city
>wearing a commissar's gear for some reason
>walk across the trenches looking authoritative
>sees some Tricorn's tossing mud at the felinid heavy gunner
>raise a bolt pistol at the men and order them to stop or i will shoot
>claim that such acts are heretical
>be Tzeentch
>trying to make a complex scheme that doesn't get fucked up for once
>see some Felinid
>Plant the idea in the head of some guardsmen to throw mud at him
>cant think of anything else
>just let this play out just to see what happens
>Be Emmanuel Lafleur, 9th Baronette of Terawatt Bridge, Scintillan Fusiliers
Mon dieu! That abhuman auxiliary looks like corgi chien
woof woof corgi chien! woof woof
Someone throw mud on it so it make that face again!
honhonhonhon it looks like corgi chien when it make that face
This is so boring, let us go play dice rolling and take shot of amasec
>Some commissar tells us to stop throwing mud at corgi chien
But we already stop, henh
>Don't really care what commissar says, only special commissar attached to regiment can discipline Fusiliers
corgis are welsh
The appearance of Scintillan Fusiliers is mostly based off of 18th century French soldiers, so I feel justified depicting one as a lame French stereotype, though Scintilla is big enough to have many different cultures. The corgi insult is taken from the original post. I feel though that corgis are the type of animal that could plausibly be familiar to the decadent nobility from many different worlds.
It'd be better if you played GURPS
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>dickheads fuck off
>walk around to the gunner ask him if he needs any help in my best commissar voice
>hoping that no one calls me out
>seems to work so far though
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>Be techpriest
>Applying lube to toaster with vigorous thrusts from lube dispensor
>Some guardsman shows up, and hesitates for a while before telling me that some guardsman from another regiment wrecked the tanna dispensor
>Technically I should be mad, but I never miss a chance to apply lube to sacred machinery whose inner workings have been jammed up by grit
Fear not trooper, I will begin the Rite of Lube Application on the compromised machine spirit at once!
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>sees a toaster fucker
>keep my commissariat spaghetti in my pockets as best as possible
>tells the priest to be quick about it, and try to be quiet about it
>turns around and walks off to inspect the trenches
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>be support gunner Trosk
>have to start cleaning Sasha again
>commissar got the remaining Hatfags to bugger off
>notice he's wearing Cadian regalia
>about to ask him if he's a real commissar
>while this is happening also notice a techpriest begin to murder-rape the tanna machine back into functionality
>turn attention back to the sketchy commissar
>"Bы пoтepяли или чтo-тo пpиятeль?"
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>the felinid asks me a question in some odd language
>heard something like this before
>pulls out a ration i got from the bar last night
>its made of bread, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and a few slices of both ham and bologna
>toss it to him and walk away hoping he doesn't inquirer further
>realize i still have a flask in my pocket
>wonder who's this uniform was
>check my bag when i get to a unoccupied tent
>bolter ammo...combat knife...oh!
>a dataslate
>unlock it...
>memory starts to come back
>oh no...
>be Tzeentch
>damn that commissar
>wait a minute
>who is he?
>gonna have to check my file on him
>but that Tricorn mud party dint realy work...
>Might have to call in slanesh for this one...
>be small pieces of mud and rocks in the tanna machine
>be inanimate
>have no sentience
>be broken up into smaller lube covered pieces slightly sexualized force is exerted on the machine I’m jammed in.
>be grinded into a thin powder-lube substance as the machine comes to life and breaks me down further.
>be forced into some crevice inside the machine to remain forever
>was previously doing my job lying on the ground and now unable to do so
>my face when
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>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>mfw i might have fucked a commissar and switched clothes with her
>that means that there is probably some pissed off commissar wearing a guardsman uniform right now trying to find out how to get to my position
>mfw she has my heavy stubber
>mfw she might die with my stuff
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>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Need tanna
>No one is in line for tanna machine
>Suspicious but also really fucking need my tanna
>Pour self a cup, and take a sip
>It tastes like mud, oil, cпepмa, but also tanna
>Chug cup, then a second, then a third
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>walk to the recaf machine
>shakily poor myself a cup
>tastes like shit, but that is the guardsman standard
>standing next to some guards-woman with "Sasha" on her tags
>could have sworn that the felinid called his gun that
>ask her what her orders are
>stand tall as i do so as to not choke on the shitty recaf
>be me
>alpha legionnaire
>hiding in barrel
>forgot why I was here.voxcast
>which side am I on again?
>be elderfag Arnok
>be cursing on my new warpbike
>feels nice, but kinda board
>see some metal man fucking a gun to life
>zoom by and hit the metal man with my bike
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>be me, Transcendant C'tan Gi'bbior'hrish
>security protocols of necron tomb holding me weaken
>break out from the earth and see a bunch of fleshy assholes everywhere
>see one of them shoot me with a tiny red laser
>get irrationally angry over it
>start shooting lightning at everything
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>be support gunner Trosk
>managed to get all the mud out the firing breach
>pick up the sandvitch the commissar threw at me and put it into my tactical webbing
>I save for later
>Notice the sounds of tech-sodomy have changed
>time for tanna
>both the "commissar" and the conscript that has the same name as my gun start drinking from the tanna machine that's just had cyberdong inside it
>suddenly a blue thing explodes out of the Scintillan tent
>fucking Slaanesh cultists
>mfw it starts shitting lightning everywhere
>Be "Imperial guardswomen Sacha"
>There's the guy from yesterday night who is wearing my uniforme
>Can't ask him to go back in a tenté and Switch our uniformes back
>Cultists are attacking
>Emperor damn it
>Throw the heavy stubber at his owner "commissariat Oscar" and take my own weapons from him
>Get out to the battle still on guardsman uniform
>be me
>be necron lord shoved in the middle of bumfuck nowhere after laughing at the Overlord when he tried to drink something
>have to watch this shard
>wanna stasis HAHA FUCK YOU
>fucking crypteks
>bored as shit
>only company is the maintenance spyder and this weirdo with a tail
>keeps phasing in and out of the containment cell
>fuckin stares at me for a few months
>floats off after
>have no idea what he’s doing
>have no inclination to know what he’s doing
>considering if a scrapped spyder could make a good balance board when zap
>black out
>wake up, dusty as shit
>shard is pissing and shitting lightning everywhere
>spyder is trying to manhandle it with its spyder hands
>weird tail fucker is nowhere to be seen
>i’m covered in some kind of liquid
>surrounded by angry looking humans who keep yelling at me in the most ANNOYING language
>mfw I start considering self-destruction
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>Be support gunner Trosk
>there is lightning
>There is another metal man
>the techno-fiddler is gone
>Sarge is not here
>Scintillans are running around being useless
>The conscript is trying to swap clothes with the commissar
>Ogryns are being Ogryns
>I need an adult
>Grab Sasha and start spraying 'n praying into the blue thing
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>be me
>be Corporal Zeeg Faess
>re-stationed from my penal regiment
>forgot the number
>forgot my uplifting primer too
>commissar put me up on the watch tower
>said it was less work than disciplining me
>probably didn't want to waste ammo
>las-cannon stopped humming an hour ago
>spotlight still works though
>see some hullabaloo with some dog shooting at the fops
>commissar told me to report if I saw any movement over the walls
>lasfire, blue lights, yelling
>looks like a mechanicus bumfight
>but its inside the walls
>don't want to report something I wasn't supposed to be watching
>don't want to tell the commissar about the lascannon
>don't want to have robo-dicks deepthroating the equipment again
>don't want to leave my post
>slurp my tanna
>its cold
>be me
>elderfag Arnok
>necrons might be at it again
>phone over the warp that we might need assistance as the monkeys are trying some weird psyops on us with their leadership, as well as confirmed presence of necrons
>get a bunch of snorts and whoops in response
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>be me
>be genestealer hybrid
>somehow got fucking recruited
>painted my third arm grey, everyone thinks I'm some metal freak instead of a mutant
>miss grandpa broodlord
>hear screaming
>catboy is freaking out with a metal smurf
>one of the funny talking men is dead
>decide to check if they really do taste like frog
>best rations I've ever had
>some space whore tries to hit on me
>probably wants my food
>screech at her until she leaves
>Be me
>Koreg master of Gore
>Leader of the Crimson Horde
>Fleet approaching shitty World
>Gaurd elements on world
>Some other assholes
>It's Khorne time
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>Well, at least I can say I have my stubber back
>elder are here tho
>necrons are here tho
>sees some nasty thing yelling at a purple lady
>probably heretical
>level my stubber on them
>hope it killed them
>Be me
>Geneste- I mean, Guardsman Steeler
>Miss my cult, The Lazy Claw
>I hate the conscription lottery
>But I got a cool bike
>See blue thing explode from tent and shoot lightning
>Plink at it with autogun for fun
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>/b/ support gunner Trosk
>still magdumping at the blue thing
>run out of ammo
>blue thing is not dead
>remember the words of the drill Sargent
>("get the fuck off of my centaur you hairy bastard")
>sling sasha upon my back
>unsheathe bayonet
>blue thing says some words I'm too retarded to understand
>"Я пapeнь из тяжeлoгo opyжия, и этo мoe opyжиe!!!!"
>take a running jump up & latch onto the fucker before vigorously stabbing everything that looks even remotely soft
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>see the blue thing
>order my men to attack
>lay heavy fire on it with my stubber
>drink from the flask i have in my pocket
>is this peach snaps?
>Sasha got some taste
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>be me
>be inquisitor Hereci
>ordo xenos
>stuck on some backwater world
>pretty sure some of the guard are genestealers
>hear massive fucking commotion outside my tent
>commissar being a useless fuck
>some felinid trying to stab a fucking C'tan to death
>Necron lord looking like he wants to kill himself
>genestealer guard eating slaaneshi whore
>get vox informing me there's a Khornate warband approaching
Felinids are quarantined to their homeworld, they don’t fight in the Imperial Guard.
Ok but who asked?
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>trying to gun down a C'tan
>sees a inquisitor
>keep guardsman grade spaghetti in my "newly acquired" commissariat uniform
>ask him to help me kill this fucking thing
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>be inquisitor
>commissar in ill fitting uniform walks up to me
>dude looks green as fuck
>probably some Schola graduate who's about to spaghetti himself
>asks how to kill C'tan shard
>remember General owes me a favor for not exposing his eldar porn stash
>"yeah I need a bombardment here from every Basilisk you got"
>run the fuck away
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>I know where this is going
>he wants me to kill my self and all of my men
>tell Sasha to pull back
>order krak grenades
>order the felinid back
>keep shooting my heavy stubber into it
>die already will you?
>Be Koreg master of Gore
>Landing on planet via drop pod
>So are about 1,500 of bro's
>Traitor Imperial Fists we are
>Serfs are getting our armor down
>Battlebarge above planet
>Your move Imperials.
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>are you shitting me
>the god damn children of the korn are here
>order a Basilisk bombardment on their landing site
>only one is going off
>where the fuck is our suport
>now kinda know why commissars are so pissed
>yell about heretics
>more start to shoot, but still scared
>toss a krak grenade at a heretic
>focus fire on the same heretic until it stops moving
>be fire cast warrior
>se some lost souls on a shitty planet
>must convert/destroyforthegreatergood.commie
>drop down and take aim at a worshipper of korn
>be some necron lord
>damn racket keeping me up
>order some of my comrades to go out and silence these fools
>find out I left the water boiling all for my nap
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>be me, Transcendent C'tan Gi'bbior'hrish
>there's MORE of these ants attacking me now
>just wanna escape those asshole Necrons and go eat nachos
>also want to teach them a lesson for imprisoning me
>and these other fleshies attacking me
>begin gathering and pooling all power into myself
>glowing like a bomb now
>gonna detonate this whole place and then reform
>be fire cast warrior
>sees chaotic being of energy about to do something bad
>get my emp gun
>wonder if it will work at this distance
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>that isn’t good
>order everyone back
>grab Sasha and the felinid by the collar and dive to safety
>toss another krak grenade at a necron for good measure
>notice a scope glint in the distance
>grab the two again and get behind more cover
>Sasha quietly berates me for stealing her uniform
>shush her and load my stubber
>tosses her a bolter mag
>hands her her flask of Schnaps
>tell her it’s good stuff
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Chain smoking some lho sticks to get the taste of mud, oil, and cпepмa out of my mouth
>Commissar Sasha (one of dozens of women named Sasha in the regiment) is fighting some big glowing thing alongside some dude wearing her uniform, a heavily armed cat person, and what looks like a tau
>I am going to need at least four more cups of tanna before I even think about getting in a fight with that thing, and a couple of more lho-sticks to wash the taste out of my mouth again
>Besides, no one else is helping them so why should I?
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>first, how many Sashas are there in this unit?
>second, is that one just sitting there smoking?
>had that have been me, commissar or not, I'd have been executed for heresy and laziness
>like hell am I going to die by electric bugaboo while she smokes and drinks away all the rations
>stomp over to her and grab her by the collar
>might have gone a bit overboard
>but I think that's the closest to a real commissar I have been yet
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>The fake commissar in other other Sasha's uniform comes stomping over to toss around some death threats
>How the hell he didn't get fried by the glowing thing is beyond me
>Also not sure why he is picking on me when there are literally dozens of guardsmen aimlessly running around like chickens with their heads cut off
>Also also not sure why he thinks death threats are going to intimidate me, he is clearly not from Valhalla, I have been getting death threats since before I could walk
Fine whatever "Commissar"
>Flip switch on lasgun to "FULL AUTO"
>Blaze away at glowing thing for a couple of seconds until the clip runs out, as expected this has no visible effect
>Like most conscripts, I have am not supplied with backup clips or grenades since I am not expected to live long enough to use them
>Throw a rock at it just to show that I am still trying
>Fully plan on going back to drinking tanna once everyone's back is turned
>Not sure what everyone is worked up about, the glowing thing has hardly killed anyone yet
>>be me
>>"Commissar Oscar"
>points to the chaos tainted space marines
Why are you not behind cover? Wait...why am I not in cover?
>dashes behind a solid and non conductive wall
>gives orders to get behind cover and to shoot at the things you can actually hurt.
>aims my stubber at the Korn fanatics and start shooting with precision
>kinda understand why the orks are infatuated with "daka" now.
>spraying into the chainsword wielding maniacs with predudice
>Be me.
>(DefinitelynotaCustodian) Eye of the Emperor "Invader".
>Be mostly augmetics now.
>Everything is stiff and aches like a bitch.
>Miss having limbs, ones that could actually work properly. Fighting was fun back then.
>Now it just sucks.
>Be stuck on sandball planet, piss middle of bumfuck nowhere.
>Fucking hate sand. It's coarse and it gets everywhere. Hellish for augmetics, and not exactly the most pleasant on the skin either.
>Miss the ready supply of Custodes grade body oil back on Terra.
>Remaining ear picks up some sounds happening, and the vox built into the missing part of my brain is picking some shit up.
>Use shitty handmade spear to haul self to feet and start walking to the noise.
>Miss my actual guardian spear. Wish I took it with me, so I didn't have to use this lighter thing.
>Made it out of a crashed valkyrie, a hotshot lasgun, and a bayonet.
>Lean on it because augmetics are playing up again.
>Everything hurts.
>Be Ogg, Bullgryn Oxhillary to 74465th Valhallan Infantry Regiment
>Me an’ the boys are hanging out with da chem-heads
>Begin to hear gunfire, explosions, and screams of death and glory
>Flashy-lighty thing goes through tent
>Shiny robot guy appears from nowhere >looks down at our card game
>Jim waves, and the robot leaves
>Bone’ead comes running in, panting
>”Guys, the recaf machine is workin’ again!”
>know what to do
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>be support gunner trosk
>still stabbing the blue thing
>can here basilisk fire and screams of heretic
>I hope I'm not the heretic
>Ogryns are still doing nothing
>somehow not been killed by friendly-fire
>stab the blue thing in the eye
>it stops shitting out lightning
>it starts to swell and get hot
>holy frak thet's too much heat
>it explodes
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>be inquisitor
>been hiding behind stormtroopers and Taurox ever since chaosfags showed up
>hear explosion
>that furry somehow nailed the C'tan shard
>he's probably dead
>mfw I can steal the credit for the kill now and finally get reassigned to a less shitty sub-sector
>Be me. Eye "Invader".
>Be officially sick of this shit, again.
>Crest a dune, and finally see what in the Emperors name is going on.
>Some Guard camp. Bunch of things exploding and lasfire going everywhere. Zoom in with robot eye.
>Some necrontyr, with a big blue Ctan. Some assorted reactions.
>Some of the traitor astartes landing as well. The violence ones.
>Miss Solar Auxilia. At least they were on top of their game.
>Also miss when the legionaries astartes weren't batshit insane.
>Granted, they were never trustworthy, but still.
>Damn kids.
>Better go sort some shit out.
>Wonder if I can take on some berzerkers. I haven't dropped that much. Maybe if I had a proper weapon, like a power sword.
>Maybe they have one.
>Respirator clicks and inhales fractionally louder.
>Hate the respirator, but living is important.
>Sand isn't.
>I hate sand.
>Could I get a shot off from here?
Bump for interest
>Be regimental commissar
>see felinid auxiliary
>Execute him
>fucking mutants
The end
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>did that cat man just knife that thing to death?
>order focused fire on the new chaos marines
>keep firing into the horde of chainsword wielding nut jobs
>huck another krak grenade into the group
>hope Sasha is proud of me
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>accidentally gun down a commissar
>sees that trosk is hurt
>order a medic to tend to the situation
>can’t let a hero like that die
>medic drags him off as we keep shooting
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Oh great, evil space marines, this day keeps on getting better and better
>Pour myself another cup of tanna, then walk to the back of the tent where they can't see me
>Fake commissar is hosing everything with his stubber, good job drawing attention to yourself
>Finish cup of tanna, now sufficiently awake that I feel a small flicker of guilt for not helping out
>Some other conscript comes running into the tent looking for somewhere to hide
>A stray bolter shell blows his head off
>Check his rifle, unfortunately it looks like he is one of those unlucky bastards who didn't even get a single clip for his lasgun
>How do they expect us to fight if they don't even give us ammo?
>Shrug, at least I tried
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>damn lazy Sasha
>don’t know why she is hiding
>I “Guardsman Sasha” And The others are doing all the work
>need a plan
You can smoke and drink all the recaf you want if you kill these fools!
>that should work
>remember the krak launcher
>tell her to grab that
its that time of the month were we do a 40k roleplay?

yay! (c:)
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>Be support gunner Trosk
>being dragged by a medic
>can feel EVERYTHING
>can't feel tail, probably got blown off
>aw well, never needed the damn thing
>ears got clipped by explosion, look like a normal human's now
>most of my body hair is gone
>look down
>breastplate is shredded
>I can see my internal organs
>Fuck it, if I'm gonna die I'm not doing it on an empty stomach
>reach for webbing pocket
>left arm is nonfunctional
>Reach into webbing at an awkward angle that causes something to go crack
>retrieve sandvitch
>explosion lightly toasted it
>take a bite
>tastes pretty good
>mfw the gaping hole in my chest starts to rapidly heal
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
I smoke and drink whenever I want anyways
>Fine, I will help out
>Grab krak launcher
>No idea how to use it
>Toss it over to the fake commissar and the heavy weapons trooper
>Grab another lasgun off some dead guy and find some nice cover to take some potshots from behind
>Luckily the evil space marines are ignoring us for now, pretty sure we are dead the minute they notice our existence
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Don't see that every day
>Kind of jealous actually
>Hope for his sake though that Commissar Sasha doesn't notice
>Oh look, out of ammo again
>Pretty sure I accomplished nothing except singeing the paint a bit on their armor
>Still doing better than the 99% of the regiment that is doing nothing but running in circles or cowering in puddles of their own urine
>I mean seriously, we are all going to die by the end of the day anyways, why worry about it?
>Pop open my flask of vodka, it is past noon somewhere
>All the screaming and dying is starting to give me a headache
If you are referring to the next Damnatum Lutum thread, I think that is next weekend, this is just people messing around for fun.
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>get tossed a krak launcher
>mfw the crazy bitch just tossed a highly explosive tube at me
>catch it tho
>take aim at a Korn fucker
>take one of lazy Sasha’s smokes
>you didn’t earn it

nah i mean the

>green text

semi-comedy roleplay
>Be me.
>Eye "Invader"
>Decide fuck it, start shooting.
>Good thing about bionic eye, it can be linked up to spear sights.
>Get two of the raving Astartes in the neck.
>One goes down, the other violently decompresses out his neck, but somehow lives.
>Decide to manage a light jog as I keep firing.
>Shitty augmetic arms don't naturally adapt to motion. Shitty augmetic legs hurt.
>Slip on a slightly steeper patch of dune. Shitty augmetics are slow.
>Start tumbling down dune face at them.
>Can't see shit.
>I miss having limbs.
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>see some cog boy fall down a dune
>sees tanka cat heal by eating a ration
>can all sandwiches do that?
>will look into it later
>chaos forces starting to dwindle
>not done yet though
>at least lazy Sasha picked up a gun
>keep shooting at anything red and heretical
>wonder if there are any inquisitors here
>wonder if I am doing the Emperor proud
>Be me. Sand ridden Eye Invader.
>Need a shorter name.
>Need a vacuum as well.
>At least I'm closer.
>Rebreather blows out sand as I exhale.
>Closest I've ever come to actually crying since that time in the webway where the Emperor got impaled.
>Miss those days.
>At least it's flat now. Augmetics can run pretty fast on flat. Kinda forces the sand out of my robes.
>Speaking of, could use new robes. Could also use new everything.
>Shoot some of the ones getting a little too close to the Guard group. More die, because closer.
>One had a particularly cool looking power sword.
>I will have that sword, even if I can't add it to my spear.
>Unfortunately, he seemed to stay alive past the dinky las-fire.
>Miss bolt rounds.
>be the bird god of chaos himself
>fuck if I can figure out what is happening
>least it seems to be working to plan
>what now?
>well fuck
>Korn is still here
>in the plus side
>slanesh isn’t here
>Be me. Lord Invader. Eye of the Emperor.
>Be going through snappier name ideas, while shooting at Berserk Astartes.
>Hotshot lasguns aren't actually too bad at going through lighter plates of ceramite.
>And there's probably enough materials to scavenge here to make some functioning plate for myself.
>Granted, not the prettiest, most functional, or generally most sanitary, but enough time pressure washing it out could do the trick.
>Spear runs dry.
>Jump at one, still twenty metres away.
>Haft of spear breaks off in my hands. Blade left lodged in body of foe.
>Fucking yeet it at another and steal this ones pistol.
>Bolt rounds. Finally.
>Weapon actually booms and kicks in my hand, and the target down the sight explodes.
>Feels good man. For the first time in centuries, it feels good.
>See the one with the power sword.
>I will have it.
>Be Ogg, Bullgryn Oxhillary to 74465th Valhallan Infantry Regiment
>Hike up my pants as I walk through the camp, watching everyone kill one another
>Seems like less casualties than usual. Different colors today, too
>Boss sez, “Command says, if they ain’t shooting at you, don’t shoot back!”
>That way we don’t shoot our buddies, see
>Jim whinges that something hit him, but he’s just whiny
>Tell him to pull the shrapnel out of his arm and keep going
>Some guardsman in the Commisar’s clothes is yelling at everyone, telling us to get to work, and waving his gun
>He seems nice
>”What should we do, Sacha?”
>Boss scratches his chin, thinking for a minute...
>well, two...
>”If it ain’t a cup of Joe... I don’t want to know”
>fair enough. We keep walking
>See one of them “look-but-don’t-pet” Sasha’s pushing its chest together with a sandwich as we step into the tent
>Gotta try that sometime
>be me
>be Necron Lord sitting in what used to be something mechanical
>everythings gone to shit
>shards gone
>spider’s wrecked
>fukken choas humans just arrived
>gaping hole in my chest is only half repaired
>still covered in liquid
>primitive firearms plinking off my necrodermis
>one of the choas notices me, puts a shot through my eye
>actually broke it
>the fucker
>activate lighting field, watch as the dick becomes deep fried in seconds
>SWOI over his corpse, keep frying everything in range
>materialize staff of light in hand, go ham on anything that survived the lightning field
>mfw the spooky cunt still hasn’t shown up yet
>Be Koreg
>Chopping up anybody near me
>Might need to call for backup
>Decide to charge Commissar
>While doing so I vox the barge
>Serfs bringing in armor
>A couple of daemon engines
>It's blood time people
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>big fucking traitor astart starts to charge
>oh no
>order everyone to focus fire in its face
>shoot the krak launcher at its face
>toss a krak grenade at him
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>Be me.
>Lord Invader.
>Finally catch the one with the cool sword.
>By putting a bolt through his lower spine.
>Says something about blood and skulls.
>Proceed to pick up sword and bisect head.
>Sword is a make I don't know. Like left in pic related.
>Feel something pushing at my mind weakly.
>Push it out.
>Bolt pistol misfires, throw it at someone.
>Ten thousand years, no servicing does that to a weapon.
>See an officer being charged by a particularly sizeable one. If their simple mentality is anything to go by, that big one's their boss, and the fancy one's our boss.
>Run in to intercept with new sword.
>Can't let the guy in charge escape.
>Uniform on guy in charge looks ill fitting.
>Possibly been stuck here for some time. Lost weight.
>How fun.
>Now to see how well I can use a sword.
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Fake Commissar leaves cover again to take one of my smokes
>дypaчить, that is one of my decoy smokes, plenty more where that came from
>be some abomination
>pic related
>rip my way through the warp to find myself in a tent with some lady smoking
>stand their and wait to see who attacks first
>might be friendly
>Be Koreg
>Krak launcher misses
>Grenade does scratch up my armor
>Big guy approaches
"A Mechanicus member?! Are you foolish enough to face me!"
>That sounded tough
>I used to be a chapter master
>Joined Khorne two years ago
>Imperial Fist successor
>Oh well skull time
>Oil is basically blood
>Chain axe on
>Lightning claw ready
>Khorne time
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>Be Captain of the Scintillian Fusiliers
>Was calling mother back home but got interrupted by quite the ruckus.
>C'est quoi ce bordel?
>Xenos creatures are attacking!
>Why was I not made aware?
>Quickly start to organize and strategize the Fusiliers.
>Let out a quick "Hon hon hon." as volleys of lasfire crash into the xenos ranks.
>Order the two squads closest to me to fire at the large, centaur like warforms advancing rapidly.
>Be Fusilier captain.
>Do my best to manage this anarchy.
>"Reste dans ta rangée ou j'aurai ton cul en argent."
>As I find moments to collect myself and take in the situation I realize there are numerous enemies of the imperium.
>A warrior of the arch enemy is charging.
>"Soufflez ce trou du cul drogué!" I yell into the vox on the channel of nearby units.
>Order the two nearby units to advance on me.
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>wtf did that guy just say?
>i think he wants us to move deeper into that shit storm
>realize that i have dumped 2 belts of heavy stubber into this traitor astarte's face
>bitch doesn't even have a jaw
>blubbered something out to a cog boi running at him with a sword
>reload my krak launcher
>take aim again
>aim at the astarte's legs this time
>yell at the inquisitor to help us or he is a heretic
>yell at lazy Sasha to get more krak grenades
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>Be Fusilier Captain.
>Damn, that Caca Boudin isn't stopping.
>Order one squad to stop advancing and allow the line to push up.
>Pull the other squad around and behind the traitor.
>"Vous n'êtes pas des putains de sang? Je vais te montrer tes propres tripes, ta bête!"
>Fire a volley into the traitors back and hope he takes the bait.
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Not sure what the Блядь that is supposed to be, but standing here doesn't seem too safe anymore
>Calmly walk backwards until there is some other conscripts between me and it
>Don't want to trigger any predatory instincts by running away
>It seems to be happy just standing there
>Fake Commissar asks for some more krak grenades
>The fraud is lucky that a real commissar is standing nearby otherwise I would just ignore him
>Why she hasn't killed him yet is beyond me
>Pop open the box of grenades that was literally two feet away from him and hand him two more grenades
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>thank lazy
>give her a sandwich
>why not?
>huck a krak grenade again
>why we got so many I dont know
>outa ammo
>pull out my shotgun
>sees some traitor guardsman run up to me with a axe
>just a axe, not chain-axe or anything
>why don't you have anything else?
>fuck it though
>blow the bitches head off
> https://youtu.be/2Pkj8pI9rlw
>asks lazy Sasha for more ammo for the stubber
>Be Scintillian Captain.
>More specifically Captain Depaul
>More cultists are approaching.
>I need to show bravery, to set an example.
> Stand up atop one of the sandbags and start to taunt the members of the arch enemy, ignoring rounds coming from all sides of the flanking unit.
>Decide to use an old Scinitlian saying, used by the fine nobility of our cultured world.
>Remember that a majority of people here don't speak the language.
>Work out a highly accented version of it in Low Gothic.
>Point to the heretics.
>"You are as smart as an oyster!"
>Wow that sounded more poetic in Scintillan.
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Get free sandwich
>Not sure if it is the type that causes flesh regeneration, but maybe I will save it for later just in case
>Fake Commissar is asking me for more ammo
>I guess I am his personal fetch girl now
>Whatever, I will probably live slightly longer this way
>Head over to ammo tent
>Grab some stubber ammo
>Some nutjob with an axe shows up and yells blood for the blood god, skulls for the skull throne, corn cares not from whence the blood flows, or something like that
>I shouldered my lasgun earlier to carry ammo, so pick up a flare gun instead while he is giving his little speech
I hope blood corn doesn't mind his skulls extra crispy
>....I say before shooting him in the face with a flare
>As I head back to the Fake Commissar with an armload of stubber ammo, I wonder why everyone in the universe except me is such a massive idiot
>This guy gets it
>Be me.
>Lord Invader.
>Larger Astartes says something about being a mechanicus priest.
>Not sure weather to laugh or be pissed.
>Do both.
"Mechanicus priest? Young one, I am a Custodian. I was fighting wars beside the Emperor himself before your primogenitors even came into existence. Are you foolish enough to face me? Leave now and I may let you live."
>Genuinely hope he does. Four augmetic limbs, in sand, might put this fight closer then I'd like.
>Then again. Custodian.
>Should count for a fair bit.
>Big boi seems about to charge in.
>Time to remember my swordplay abilities.
>Feet go here and here, arm out like this, bend knees, straight back.
>Bitch come at me, I haven't killed something in years.
>And your armour looks about the right size for me.
>Be me. Lord Invader.
>Only realise that this officer that looked to not fit his uniform is pointing a fragging rocket launcher at the Astartes.
>Easier then I thought.
>Once distracted and safe, jump in and stab.
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>Be me, Steele Hanoverfist fourth company, Blood Ravens.
>In the Battle Barge "Chattering Magpie", a gift from some shifty-looking Imperial Fists
>Necrons on the surface
>some IG are getting their shit pushed in
>Hey, there's some tau shit on the battlefield.
>order troops to the drop pods
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>oh yay, reinforcements
>wait...are those magpies?
>oh well
>launch a krak missile at the big traitor
>nailed him in the chest
>load my stubber
>free hand my stubber
>have to dig my heals in to aim straight
>but I graduated top of my class in stubber marksmanship
>lead a war cry in my best commissar voice
>”guardsman Sasha” seems impressed
>damn it...
>duck behind cover and load again
>this time use the bipod
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>Be Captain Depaul.
>Decide to stick to las volleys and the Scintilian language.
>The traitor astartes has cracks along his power armor from the repeated explosives.
>"S'il y a un temps pour la gloire, c'est maintenant."
>Order my unit to push towards the traitor, while firing shots off.
>Blast another volley at him from close range.
>He charges, and knocks a few men away like bowling pins.
>"Affixez les baïonnettes! Affix bayonets!"
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>Be me, Steele Hanoverfist fourth company, Blood Ravens.
>begin our operation by staggering our drop pod landing in a pattern I've termed "Steele Rain"
>Drop pod touches down; servitor blows the hatches open, we charge out
>It's those Imperial Fists guys.
>Why are they attacking the IG?
>some gibbering IG start affixing bayonets and chattering in their chipmunk language
>seems like a good place to start.
>target the IG
>Imperial Fists guys are shitting up the vox with blood corn
>shift aim to those so-called Fists.
>be abomination
>lady backs out of tent ang Grabs box
>drops nice smelling liquid
>stomps across felid to find similar box
>box jingles and shakes when I stomp
>box is small for my clawed hands
>finds her and rips box at her feet
>points claw to smoking stick in her mouth
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>magpies are here doing what they do
>least they are taking the heat off of us
>and I don’t see any sisters of battle
>still got my ammo and krak grenades and missiles
>and we are good in recaf
>seem to be relying the troops around me
>one had the brilliant idea to stuff a rag in something they call vodka and light the rag on fire
>now the traitors are in fire
>tanaka seems to be doing well
>what was that that just ran by with a ammo box?
>Be me.
>Suddenly out of a fight Lord Invader.
>Krak missile hit the big guy in the chest. Kicked up a whole lot of sand and nearly floored me.
>Fuck. Wanted the armour.
>Found another one about my size and stabbed the guy in the back.
>Small stab. Wanted the armour.
>Always liked MK II plate. It's old, very old, and very basic kit.
>But easy enough to tinker, and very power efficient.
>Dragged the paralysed guy off, slit his throat and chucked him into a tent.
>New shit.
>Blood Ravens.
>Need to bury the dead body first. I will not have the armour stolen, not after all this time.
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Commissar Sasha seems a little too impressed at how the Fake Commissar was firing his stubber from the hip
>Probably explains how their uniforms got switched
>Seriously have a little class, there are plenty of quiet spots and phallic objects in the camp, no need to involve dim witted mouth breeders
>Freakish monster thingy drops a whole crate of stubber ammo right behind me
>Indicates it wants a smoke
>Sure why not, pull out one of my many packs of lho-sticks and hold it out for him/her/it
>Not sure how it is going to use a lho-stick with its giant talons and lack of lips, but life has taught me not to argue with things that can kill you in less than a millisecond
Is this where the story ends?
>Be me, Steele Hanoverfist fourth company, Blood Ravens.
>by the emperor, what a clusterfuck of shit this is!
>traitors, abominations, eldar, tau, -wait, is that a necron corpse?
>Why hasn't it de-rezzed?
>see someone strip a fallen man out of his Mk. II armor
>Hey, that's a fancy kit.
>Or should I say... a gift for the chapter?!
>Oh boy, my first gift on this deployment and I haven't even been on the ground for more than five minutes!
>I'll charge the dude and just sort of bump him gently out of the way
>Be me. Lord Invader.
>Stripping a dead corpse of quite possibly some of the oldest power armour ever.
>Note the astartes operating all around me.
>Hear hugely thunderous footfalls and motor units snarling, getting louder.
>Gently shift weight lower and brace for impact with my foot.
>Knee hurts a little, but he rolls over. Pulls the tent away and gets tangled in it.
>Frantically sliding on as much of it as I can.
>Not even connecting it up, just getting it on me.
>Tfw the proper procedure calls for three arming serfs, half an hour of time at least, and some fancy monitoring and carrying kit, but you get the basics on in a handful of seconds.
>Chestplate and leg parts feel clunky around augmetics, and the helmet is one of the super old, fused to chest ones, but that shit can wait.
>Where's the fucking power pack? Or the arms?
>Better not have taken them with his roll.
>Wait, where's my cool sword?
>wasting an entire thread to make a shitty TF2 sandvitch joke
I miss quest threads
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>be support gunner Trosk
>turns out my left arm & leg are completely fucked
>medic had to amputate them
>left eye is kinda broken too
>wish I was out dying for the emperor
>stuck in medicare tent instead
>watch Sasha give some lho-sticks to a roided up Grox
>wish I had some lho-sticks right now
>a big fucking techmarine drags the body of a traitor marine into the tent and starts to remove it's armour
>starts doing some weird rituals to purify it or some shit
>the medic comes back
>there's a techpriest with her
>he has a crate of machine parts
>mfw I know where this is going
>Be me, Eye of the Emperor "Invader"
>Finally finished stripping the armour and get it on.
>The helmet is bolted in place and can't swivel, but it keeps the sand out.
>Can probably clean the paint/blood off by jumping in a box of metal shavings.
>Or just wait for the sand to strip it.
>Besides, it's not too bad. Can use my hands for fine detail things now.
>Shame my swords gone now.
>Probably "Gifted" to a certain chapter.
>Wonder how long it'll take before someone realises it's a corrupt sword.
>Hopefully, it doesn't corrupt anyone too influential if it does.
>Now. What to do.
>See abhuman on table.
>Did I just drag this dead, corrupt body into the medicae tent?
>Good work me.
>Drag the dead body out back behind camp. Toss into sand dune.
>Almost wish he were alive, just to experience my suffering of the last several hundred years.
>Now to find a weapon.
>Unless the magpies have it all already.
>Be Captain Depaul.
>I need to talk to some officers after this is over, promotions are in order.
>A group of guardsmen and their poorly dressed commissar have lit the enemy ranks ablaze.
> A group of friendly space marines are firing into the traitors ranks
>A good few of the nearby men have been shredded by the raging bull of an astartes, but we finally have him pushed back with the help
>Reorder the volley fire.
>"Hon hon hon!" at the traitors.
>Order the men to sing a hymn with me inbetween shots to thank the emperor for sending his angels.
>Have the men nearby start: "Alouette, gentille Alouette!"
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>lazy Sasha is smoking with something akin to...a giant lizard?
>doesn’t matter
>order the unit to advance as we are pushing the heretics back
>fire is effective against the enemy but doesn’t last terribly long
>can feel the contempt radiating off of lazy Sasha
>she is just pissed that we are actually working I bet
>start pushing the chaos fags back
>sip some recaf from my thermos
>start to regroup with the guardsman who smell like fine bread
>thank them for the help
>Be Lord of Change D'saster
>Sense next to no chaos in Ultima segmentum
>Tzeentch you lazy fuck, who are you? Nurgle? Do I have to do everything myself!?
>Pick some backwater planet
>See Khorne's pressence
>Proceed to warpcall some random noise marines
>Hear him snort warp dust. Perfectly normal
>Bribe them with 1000 hectoliters of fenrisian ale to invade with me
>Where did I find fenrisian ale?
>Don't know, but it won't stop me
>Suddenly in a middle of everything rainbow horrors, me, and noise marines blasting Party Hard
>My incorporial ears bleed from all the noise
>Still worth it
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>still gunning down traitors as I speak
>wiping out my shotgun in between belts of ammo
>"Guardsman Sasha" gives me cover fire while I reload
>magpies are killing and looting
>see one of them just grab a guardsman and drags him to his ship
>can you do that?.voxcast
>it matters not though
>get the feeling that there is some warpy bullshit somewhere near
>load my stubber and ask lazy Sasha for more ammo
>might as well make her useful
>be me
>Choppie da best war boi
>wake up on some sandy planet
>let out a waaagh
>hear nothing in responce
>did the bois leave me behind?
>grab me chopa and run out to the sounds of krakin'
>the bois must be there
>let out another good one
>Men are complaining about feelings of unholy sickness!
>The roaring of some shit sausage is coming from over the hill.
>I thought we had this couronnée!
>I just want to return to telling douce mère her bedtime poetry, she is too stressed too sleep without it since her three boys left for the guard.
>Give my subordinates standing orders to hold their ground and keep control of the situation.
>I'm sick of doing this with no armor.
>I'm going to threaten the nearest munitorum officer until he calls that Pompe A Chiasse of a warmaster to send down some armored regiments.
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>The monster doesn't seem to be able to hold lho-sticks in its claws, so I leave the whole pack balanced on its snout
>Someone else can figure out what to do with the monster, not my problem
>You got to be kidding me, the monster thingy just dropped a whole crate of stubber ammo like right next to you
>Fine, be lazy, grab some ammo and hand it to him
>Gun down a couple of the axe wielding cultists to relieve some boredom while waiting for the Fake Commissar to inevitably ask me to hand him some more ammo
>stand next to “Guardsman Sasha”
>whisper to her that I’m sorry for the mix up
>load both guns
>hand Sasha a few krak grenades as well
>ask for lazy Sasha for more stubber ammo and bolt rounds
>pray to the emperor for protection
>gonna purge some heretical bitches today
>can never have too much ammo Sasha
>plus it ain’t just for me
> [Identity :] Technographer Jemin
> [Assignment :] Magos Biologis Aurelian, Medicae and Augmentor to some backwater guard regiment
> My knowledge of military operations = 0%
> My knowledge of medical procedures = 0%
> Am only here because Magos implanted an archeotec microwave in an Inquisitors arm whilst he was sleeping
> [Conclusion :] Magos is a retard
> Situation outside changed. Loud Noises; Carbon Dioxide increase from cigarettes; New meatbags in tent. ~ Situation reevaluation occuring, please hold
> Suddenly cat thing in front of me
> It’s non-binharic meowing is #HERETIKAL
> Am told to affix augments
> {WTF do I do} [Mental Note Archived]
> [Archive :] I repaired governor’s daughter’s cat after it had a run in with a Taurox
> The memories are returning to me, they are glorious
> *Supress emotions in cogitators*
> *Failure*
> The Omnissiah’s will is made clear
> The motive force is moving mg augmentations for me
> [Deploy :] Saw mechadendrite from genatalia region
> [Speak :] “Don’t worry fluffles, I had veterinarian programming implanted”
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Fake Commissar and Commissar Sasha are whispering lovingly to each other in the middle of the battlefield
>Already have the stubber ammo and the bolter ammo in my hands before he even gets a chance to ask me for them
>It is like I am a telepath or something
>Or maybe just a moderately intelligent person with the "power" of foresight
>Be Techpriest
>Finish applying lube to various objects
>Go to medic tent to see if they need lube
>See the Medicae about to perform surgery with his groin mounted saw mechadendrite
>He has been clearly been blessed by the Machine Spirit
>Kind of wish I had one of those, but there is no more space on that part of my anatomy ever since I got my groin mounted lube applicator added
>And my groin mounted tertiary pneumatic drill
>And my groin mounted MIU connector mechadendrite......
>be abomination
>see that дpyг needs new box
>she grabs other box with odd looking tubes
>she must need more of them
>run to tent with boxes and find one with something written on it I can’t read
B{}l7er m#n17o;s
>she must need these
>pick up box and walk over to her and put box in arms
>she looks scared
>is box bad?
>point to box that smells like liquid she was drinking
>look at her expectingly
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I've been on the internet too long
I didn't realize that was a tail between its legs until I opened the thumbnail.
Then I realized I had reflexively opened the thumbnail thinking that wasn't a tail.
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>groin mounted lube applicator
>Be me
>Imperial guard psyker
>augments drilled into skull are feeling itchy today
>everyone looking at me like I'm a ticking time bomb
>pretty sure one of the new guys is a blank
>infantry column walks past me
>blinding cluster headache out of nowhere
>nearly vomit onto my shoes
>look behind me
>comissar fingering bolt pistol with vein twitching in his forehead
>the voices keep telling me to kill everyone
>I really don't want to
>Just want to be loyal to the Emperor
>Blow up enemy bunker with my mind
>No one cheers
>They just look at me with open distaste
>I hate my life.
>Be guardsman
>Deployed to rando planet on "critical mission"
>place looks really nice
>beaches and clear blue water everywhere
>its warm
>too warm
>Im still required to wear all my kit and amor
>armor does fuck all against enemy weapons
>still have to wear it
>hot and sweaty all day
>beach looks nice
>told to go out and search and destroy heretics
>Out there for days
>then weeks
>then months
>three months of stomping around swampy marshland
>a dozen men have been eaten by massive swamp lizards
>a hundred more have fallen ill to disease and poisonous insects
>get orders this morning
>general pissed off
>we've been sent to the wrong planet
>this place is uninhabited
>general lines up the fifty worst guardsman and dresses them up in spiky armor
>blows them up with an artillery shell
>sends report that the heretics have been found and killed
>what in the actual the fuck man.
>Iz me, da big boss
>Me an' da boys are bakk frum a WAAAAAAAGH on anotha place
>Wuz fun an' we got lotza loot
>Just added new shoota to my kollectiun
>Wun per big gud fight, gotta lot of em
>Going on anotha place wit flying trukk, gotta add to da kollectiun...
>See big button wit "GO TO MOAR LOOT"
>Can't wait so I zog da button through
>Going to get loot fasta, me smartest
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>Techpriest with groin mounted lube applicator
>spends all day jacking off onto various machinery
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>we just got a Psyker
>poor bastard keeps scratching at his metal plate
>blows up a enemy position with his mind
>looks kinda sad
>sad psykers make for bad trench buddys
>heard that one trench got dragged into the warp because the psyker was in a bad mood
>toss him a sandwich
>I was hungry at the bar ok
>go back to gunning down heretical fools
>hope the little guy has a better day
Good guy comissar
Actually, a guardsman who woke up hungover in a commissar uniform
>Actually, a guardsman who woke up hungover in a commissar uniform
How...in the hell...does that even happen?
> [Identity :] Technographer Jemin
> [Assignment :] Execute the will of the Omnissiah
> {Begin the process of transforming house cat into C.A.T servitor unit}
> Must stop the flow of excessive blood
> I lightly cauterize the wound with my cognis heavy flamer
> I register some intense meowling from my patient = pain receptors still present in subject
> [Humor :] “Unaugmenteds amirite guys ?”
> Subject is still screaming {Archive joke failure}
> Begin sawing off fleshy limbs
> Intensified screaming; anaesthetics required = oops
> [Apply :] Anaesthetics are applied by means of repeated concussions to the cranium by mallet mechadendrite
> Subject screaming intensified further = omnissiah wishes to enlighten him on augmentations. {continue operations}
> [Implant :] Mechanical limb implanting begins. Fails. Begins. Fails. Beg...loop interrupted. *Initiate Canticle*
> “Bring me incense !” Crowd of techpriests has appeared. Gotta look good in front of the bois. Praying as loud as I can to Yu’SB.
> [Implant :] Half insert mechanicsl limb. Begins. Fails. Turn over mechanical limb. Begins. Fails. Turn over again. Begins. Succeeds
> Canticle of Yu’SB does it again
> Notice his stomach and groin are healing and closing up on their own ~ U.W.U whatisthis.admech
> Techpriest lads are getting rowdy, some are clapping, others have banging the subjects table; increased screams from subject = attempt anaesthetics again ? | Denied, provedure is going as the Omnissiah wills it
> [Implant :] Servitor fridge is implanted in subject’s stomach. He might get hungry. Remove liver and bowls to make some room = Flesh is weak
> Everything going according to plan.
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>The lizard abomination is back with more ammo
>Getting a bit worried that Commissar Sasha will think its my friend or something
>Luckily she always seems to be looking away or distracted whenever the lizard is around
>This time it seems to want vodka in return for carrying crates
>Can't blame it
>Open vodka crate
>Give it a double handful of vodka flasks
>Take a couple flasks for myself as well
>Grab some more ammo for the Fake Commissar and Commissar Sasha
>And the Fake Commissar will run out of ammo, right about now...
> [Identity :] Technographer Jemin
> Subject’s fridge stomach servitor appears more sentient than I believed; has begun whispering to subject; is begging for death
> Too many fucking #HERETEKS# fucking with fridge servitors these days
> {continue procedure}
> At this point in time the crowd of techpriests around me is losing its fucking mind. Some have begun convulsing on the floor, I have shared with them the vision given to me by the Omnissiah himself; They are in exctasy. Yet more have begun assaulting random machinery within the tent, lathering them in oil and filling their every crevice with their mechadendrites {wish to join them in the fixfucking is suppressed}. Those that remain are praying so loud that guardsmen have begun to converge on the building.
> My moment of glory
> Preparing to saw subject’s skull in half to implant servitor cogitators when my coms are suddenly hijacked by the Magos himself
> | Permission to use archeotec relic has been granted |
> I have no time to question wether he even has the authority to do so, nor how he knew my hearts desire.
> *Attempts to further supress emotions have failed*
> [Initiate :] Bhinaric glee
> I open up the container protecting our holiest relic from before even the dark age of technology
> Coming straight at you from the 3rd Millenium
> Electrostatic Nipple Clamps
> The mere sight of the holy Nipple Clamps drives the few sane cogboys into a frenzy, they grab nearby guardsmen and attempt to implant augmentations
> I remain focused, I can feel the eyes of the Omnissiah upon me
> The crux of the procedure is upon me
> As I turn around and prepare myself mentally to affox the holy Nipple Clamps I realize the subject has escaped in the commotion
> {Emotional Evaluation is underway, please hold}
> I have failed techno-jesus
> Whyevenlive.stc
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>still got ammo actually
>lizard thing reminds me of a folk hero on holy terra
>volt check or something like that
>chaos guardsman charged me with a bayonet
>when I have a heavy stubber
>fool dies in seconds
>asks the psyker if he needs anything
>yells for lazy Sasha to get behind cover
>looks to find the tanaka cat
>must be with the medic
>drink some “vodka”
>kinda plain for alcohol if I’m honest
>the hooch we brew in the trenches has character
>get the feeling that the ultramarines are doing nothing
>ah well
>Be me, Eye of the Emperor.
>Be finally finished scrubbing paint off armour.
>Had cooling on maximum, and shunted the rest of the energy around the suit.
>Main problem with crusade armour, it generates energy faster then it could be burnt.
>Best make sure that I don't touch something delicate and complete a circuit. Would probably fry the target.
>Now then, what the fuck's happening?
>Someone's killing their own soldiers for paperwork reasons.
>Assorted heretics and xenos around the place.
>At least one reptilian abomination is running round, and seems to be delivering ammunition.
>Some assorted cultists.
>It's official.
>I have been alone on this planet for waaaayyyy to long.
>Fuck this.
>Throttle the suit power pack to maximum power, activate all the systems and just start feeding the excess into the cladding plate.
>One touch and the current slams through the person and into the ground.
>A sufficiently challenging way to go about fighting after so long.
>How is it taking this long to fight them off There are more forces in the entire camp complex, where are they engaged at?
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>Be me.
>Ivana Prosta. Ex-consort to some of the most powerful people on Valhalla.
>Current tank commander of a Leman Russ executioner.
>Have successfully flirted my way out of combat operations enough to qualify as a veteran.
>Unfortunately, that caused two major issues.
>The first, now I have to command a tank.
>And now, the commissar, jealous bitch she is, ordered me to wear the absolute maximum amount of gear issued to get me to stop seducing people.
>Who cares if it's a desert planet, or that it's sweltering in light gear, have to wear the full four layers of thick material.
>Could probably stop a las round at this stage.
>Does not help the sweat pouring down my body under it.
>Eventually it just reaches a threshold, where it can't get worse though, so that's something.
>Want to get back to my tent, so I can take it off, but there's a battle in the way.
>Really don't want to get caught up in it either though. Turns out, wearing an entire clothes isle from the weather gear department saps your energy.
>Would work legs free, but then crew gets weird.
>Chug another litre of water, knowing it's just going to come right back out my skin and make me even more sticky.
>Truly life is suffering.
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>be support gunner Trosk
>the toaster fuckers went overboard with the augmentation
>I am now more machine than man/cat
>fuckers didn't use anesthesia
>on the bright side I now count-as wearing power armour

Time to fuck up some heretics and possibly some techpriests
>Be Captain Depaul
>Just got off my shouting match with the warmaster.
>Probably would be commissar'd for what i said if it weren't mostly in scintilian.
>Fuck it, mother needs her poems.
>Heading back to the line I grab some of the wounded who are being dismissed from the hospital to come along with.
>Almost confuse one abhuman for a servitor.
>Return to the line.
>See something falling from space and demand everyone get in their foxholes to avoid orbital bombardment shells.
>Wait a minute.
>That's a fucking tank.
>Those guys are dropping a tank from orbit.
>There's more sub orbital tanks.
>Be me
>Comissar Shalkova
>Have secret bound hotsuit fetish
>find hot little thing thats been flirting with all the officers except for me
>Jealouslesbian.exe activated
>Invoke comissar power
>demand she be wrapped up in layer after layer of hot, sweaty gear
>see her trapped in a veritable straightjacket
>unable to take it off
>wanting desperately to take it off
>Emperor preserve me I needed this
>Morale restored
>didn't even want to shoot any of the guardsmen today
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>this crazy bitch is into some heretical fetishes
>she forced some tank commander into WAY too much gear, and she is trying to do that to the rest of the women in the unit
>remember how commissars speak to each other
>walkover with my shotgun drawn but at my side
>bid greeting
>ask about the...unusual kit she has her guards-women wearing
>inquire why she has this kit on her troops
>be careful with my phrasing, just because i dont want to die
>Be Lord General Virgas.
>Those motherfuckers said I couldn't do it.
>Look at me now.
>Tank support from the sky.
>Deploy all eight parachutes from my command baneblade.
>One guy dies from the g-force. \
>Fucking coward.
>The baneblades start to settle down in front of some heretics.
>Full throttle and run the things over.
one of you guys has to die
The fact that none of them are dead adds to the wackiness.
Seriously, this is a greentext, not band of brothers.
well, a commissar got gunned down by mistake
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>is that a tank falling from the sky?
>it seems to be hitting stuff at least
>want to know why though
>Be me. Ivana Prosta.
>Have just discovered the luxury of pouring water down inside uniform.
>The jealous comissar and the awkward one are talking.
>The awkward one looks like he wants to be tough, but is too afraid.
>Not surprised honestly.
>Hear bunch of words, like way, and hotsuit.
>Please not more gear, it sucks in this already and this is a desert.
>Seem to be ignoring the conflict at the edge of the camp.
>This astartes in some weird as armour just clambered on top of my tank.
>Stops me before I spin the heavy stubber though.
>Tells me to bring tank to the front lines.
>Can't disobey an astartes to their face.
>Sit back in seat and get driver to move forward.
>Asshole astartes just reaches over and pulls my heavy stubber off its mount.
>Probably better then I am anyway, but still.
>Just kind of slouch and work laspistol free from its holster under my outermost layer as he opens up.
>Dumbass tank crew are asking for orders.
>Just shoot the ones that aren't us, morons.
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>be support gunner Trosk
>my augments itch
>now it's fucking raining tanks
>the tank commander that always tries to seduce me can't take the heat apparently


>I have fur under my thermal gear
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>Be captain Depaul
>Sacre Bleu.
>This is madness.
>I can't relay any orders with the noise of tanks falling from the heavens.
>The tanks have speakers on them oui?
>Climb on board one as it approaches the front.
>One of the ones that didn't fall from orbit.
>Get in and see a corgi, two commissars, a space marine, and a heavily armored women.
>Has the emperor placed me in some sort of young adult war novel?
>Be me.
>Eye of the Emperor.
>Be not me. Some overdressed tank commander, who seems barely able to stay in her seat. Need to have discussion with them about proper combat wear.
>Take her heavy stubber. Never used one, but am likely far better then her anyway.
>Some other people crawl onto the tank, have to turn at waist because helmet only has 80 degree vision.
>Some overly augmented abhuman, looking a little like a feline, and some officer wearing what looks similar to old terra style uniform.
>Eh, who cares.
>Abhuman is glaring disaprovingly down it's nose at gunner, who doesn't much react.
>Just yells at crew to start shooting at targets.
>Thing about airdropping tanks, they're vulnerable to being blown up by lascannons.
>Turret moves as the big rotary cannon starts hosing at targets.
>Decide to shoot at the cultists myself.
>Missed this kind of stuff so much I nearly cry.
>Be captain Depaul.
>Order the men forward through the tanks radio.
>Stand atop the tank, maybe some remembrancer will take a cool photo to send to sweet mother.
>Order the men to start securing landing spots for the tanks.
>Order them to push up into the areas where the enemies have the most explosives.
>Thankfully the microphone for the tanks radio is wireless so I can hop off and communicate easily.
>Grab a squad and my sidearm and order a grenade towards the enemies entrenchments.
>Cancel the order when a tank with a broken parachute crashes onto the enemies.
>Fuck it, push up and use the wreck as cover.
>As we approach the wreck starts shifting and moving.
>Something seems to be lifting it.
>Pourquoi l'empereur m'a abandonné?
>The tank is lifting itself up.
>The tank is possessed.
>The tank is now some sort of monster tank.
>Now's the time to throw grenades and run the fuck away.
>Order a lot of Krak missiles at that thing.
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>have no idea what is happening right now
>decide to go with the tank for cover
>bring both Sashas with me
>one is a good shot
>the other has a giant lizard who brings ammo
>Ivana just starts pouring water down her gear
>I know its hot, but come on
>it's not that bad
>commissar uniforms arnt any cooler
>climb on the back of the tank and deploy the bipod on the back of the turret
>ask the folks in the tank if they want any vodka or sandwiches
And if need be, the vodka can be used as a area denial weapon
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Apparently I am a tank crew member now
>Or maybe not, not sure if riding on the back of the tank counts
>Also don't know anything about manning a tank
>I guess hiding behind a heavily armored box is better than being out in the open where a stray bullet can kill you
>Too bad it is sweltering hot now that the sun is out and I am sitting on top of an engine
>Ditch some of my clothes while everyone else tries to figure out where the tank should go
>Fake Commissar offers everyone sandwiches and vodka
>Already got lots of vodka, but grab another sandwich in case it is one of the ones that magically heals you
>Be me. Ivana Prosta.
>Seemingly chaperone for the entirety of officers in the region now.
>That bitchy commissar is probably around somewhere.
>Pour more water down uniform.
>The awkward commissar is looking at me disapprovingly.
>Dude, I'm wearing three times the layers you are, and all of them are stiff protective gear, stop judging me.
>Pretty sure the only thing I don't have on is a flak armour set.
>Judgemental commissar, who is no longer cute in my eyes goes off and comes back with vodka and sandwiches, and offers them to my crew.
>No longer not cute.
>Take him up on the bottle of vodka as he sets up a bipod.
>God damn it's not fun to move around in this.
>At least the face masks have zips over the mouth.
>Beginning to wonder how many more can physically fit on top of the tank before it starts getting overcrowded and people fall off.
>Slug round pings off my helmet and into the tank hatch. Person dies before I even raise pistol.
>Could be worse I guess. At least half of them are shooting.
>Be Captain Depaul.
>Starting to understand why most high ranking officers sit and have parties all day while we slog around.
>That fucking tank just grew legs.
>But hey, in the back of the lines they're having a picnic.
>Yeah there's no fucking way infantry while touch that.
>Let's let the baneblade rain handle it.
>Order the infantry to fortify in the back lines.
>Join the tank with the sandwiches.
>Give orders from atop this perch.
>It would be easier to give orders though if this armoured chick stopped being so condescending.
>and if this other commissar would stop mentally jacking it to her.
>Mutter "Cette guerre est un non-sens."
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>The Scintillan captain is yelling orders through the tank's vox casters again
>Starting to give me a headache, especially when combined with the heat
>Sip some vodka to stay hydrated
>The tank's commander opens her uniform up a bit to pour some water in
>I really wish she would stop doing that, whenever she does, there is an overwhelming smell of body odor
>The corn worshipers have really thinned out, and I haven't seen any of the metal skeletons or their glowing friend for a while
>Rumor has it there are orks somewhere attacking the camp, but haven't encountered any yet
>Maybe this battle is finally coming to a close.....
>Spot the tank ahead of us grow legs, giant tentacles, and screaming faces that shoot multi-colored flames
>A couple of weird birdmen show up and start fighting nearby
>They are joined not long after by a guitar wielding hermaphrodite space marine leading a group of fetish-gimp suit wearing weirdos
>Hmmm, guess the battle isn't over after all
>Shift sideways so that I am in a better position to snipe some of the newcomers with my lasgun
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>everyone seems to like the fact I’m giving away sandwiches and vodka
>plink away some korn worshippers with my stubber
>annnnd slanesh is here
>and the bird man with the just as planned saying
>ignore their music
>start singing some song called “3 stripes” or something along those lines
>think it’s a old Vallhallen song
>some purple lady with a weird tail and unusual tits tries to grab my leg
>does deamonet blood stain?
>just keep shooting
>offer tank crew more sandwiches and vodka
>in hindsight, grabbing a cooler of them before I left might have been a bit much
>Be Eye of Emperor "Invader"
>Be hosing stubber across the hordes of assorted warp spawn.
>Enough here that the tank is actually getting climbed.
>Can crush things under boots though, so it's fine.
>Can probably hand the heavy stubber back to the tank commander wearing too many layers.
>Proceed to do so, slapping the driver to get her awake.
>Really should strip some layers.
>Jump off into the masses of neverborn, kicking and punching through heads and chests.
>Energy is overspilling onto armour, literally charging my blows.
>Lascannons are just blazing through scores at once. Need to avoid them.
>If I had thought the stubber was release, this was an emotional hit of every kind, including sheer nostalgia, of how we had once fought without spears, all those years ago in the ruins of Terra, or earth then.
>Good times.
>Just wish the helmet could move. Feels like wearing a bucket.
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>be support gunner trosk
>sat on a tank with an astartes and two commissars
>armour girl keeps pouring water down her cleavage
>can't tell if she's trying to be seductive or fighting off heatstroke
>one of the commissars is giving the commander heretical looks
>the other is acting as a pintle gunner
>not care, I'm riding a tank
> Be mutated Slaanesh Chaos Tank
> puke colorfull fire from my many mouths
> loyalisttastebland.bored
> see an over populated tank
> corruptedmachinespirit.want
> puke flame at its inhabitants burning some, throwing around others
> heyladyyoucomehereoften.roboboner
> we are going to have fun here and now
>Be me, Ivana Prosta.
>Be facing down warp fireball from some abstract modern art grade tank.
>Mfw it just ripples over you because of the several layers of fabric.
>Barely even felt the heat, except around my face.
>Bring the heavy stubber, the one the marine gave back, into the tank, yelling at the crew to open fire at it as it got closer.
>Three lascannons and a bigass rotary cannon all firing at it.
>Shift to firing at some of the daemons. Many have been pushed back from the tank, but still need to be killed.
>Want to pour more water down my chest/over my singed outer layer, but too busy shooting.
>Can't tell if still of fire or not.
>Doesn't make a difference.
>Briefly note the jealous commissar looking at me.
>Probably just waiting to blam me or something.
>Just won't stop staring at me at corner of vision like some weirdo.
>Could be shooting, but no, staring holes into me is more important.
>At least the other one is shooting. Another heavy stubber I think.
>Good to have some help.
> Be mutated Slaanesh Chaos Tank
> be on top of a loyalist tank
> doyouknowhowtoplayagamecalledrape.slaanesh
> it starts backing away
> shoot it, trying to track it
> notice ad mechanicus covered in lube
> might come in handy *soon*
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>that heretical tank is making its way here
>grab the krak launcher
>aim at it
>nice new hole in the tank
>huck a krak grenade in there to seal the deal
>eat a sandwich in celebration
>shoot the deamonets trying to grab guardsman
>Be necron overlord
>The fuck is that racket?
>Eh, nuts to it, just another few millenia...
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar “
>see a guardsman who looks like he hasn’t eaten in days
> baloneyisperfectfuelforkillingheretics.sandwich
>toss them a sandwich
>toss vodka
>a well fed company is a happy one
>order them to provide cover fire for the medics
>salute to them
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>While most people focus on the giant walking rape tank (because why wouldn't there be a rape tank? sigh..) I shoot the various creature swarming the tank I am riding the back of
>Hard to tell which ones are mutants, which ones are weak daemons, and which ones are humans with unusual surgery
>Luckily they don't carry much in the way of armor or weapons
>Unfortunately they aren't big on clothes either, I have seen waaay too many over sized or unusually shaped sexual organs in the past couple of minutes
>Hopefully they run out of numbers before I run out of ammo, since I don't particularly feel like getting stuck in melee combat with this bunch
>Be me. Ivana Prosta.
>Tank of modern art incarnate seems to be slowed a little, by the massive trauma of lascannons, big bullets and a rocket.
>Did not like the look it gave me, or the tank.
>The awkward commissar blew it up.
>Scratch both previous assessments. Now looks decidedly cute in my eyes.
>Stuff keeps bumping at tank gently.
>Would check out, but can’t be assed.
>Finally take hands away from gun and chuck some water over self. Upset I couldn’t pour it down shirt to cool off, but literally on fire is not a good look.
>Perhaps next time the awkward commissar looks over. Maybe crack uniform open a little more then needed.
>Personally just amazed the water lockbox hasn’t run out yet.
>Bitchy commissar stil won’t stop staring at me.
>Fine, I’ll get back on the gun, just don’t blam me.
>Order tank to pull back and fire the main cannon into the dunes at a wide arc.
>Impact force alone should cause the dunes to avalanche and take daemons off their feet, making them easier to pick off.
>Would yell at the astartes, but he’s too far away, beating them into pasts with fist and foot.
>Genuinely impressed. Kinda sexy, in a dreadful, violent fashion.
>Not the fun kind like the awkward commissar though.
>Be Warsmith Tonenarch, Iron Warrior
>Damnation, yet another of my worthless allies fails to clear the Necron dig site of the corpse-worshipers
>For years I have searched the galaxy for the Staff of the Eternal Void
>Finally one of my minions finds a promising lead, but by the time I arrive, a small army of Imperials is camped out on top of the site, whether by accident or design
>With my allies driven off, I now have no choice but to commit my own forces to battle
>Waves of poorly trained slave fodder are driven ahead of heavily armed discipline masters and rows of tanks
>Batteries of artillery begin to pound the Imperial encampment (alas, I am forced to tell my heaviest artillery pieces to hold their fire for fear of damaging the Staff)
>Squads of Iron Warriors wait in reserve to sweep in and finish off the Imperial scum
>Soon, victory will be mine!
>be abomination
>odd grey metal men try to hurt дpyг
>this makes me angry
>throw box of tubes at one
>after big boom one of their heads is missing
>grab one of them and pull it’s arms off
>try to eat another one, but metal tastes bad, so I just bite him in half
>this another thought a wall
>run back behind moving box with дpyг
>realize I’m still holding arm
>arm is holding a box
>give дpyг arm
>try to smile
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>A group of grim looking space marines show up
>Although not as obviously evil as the last two batches, I am guessing they are unfriendly since they are cutting down Imperial Guardsmen by the dozen
>The lizard abomination shows up again with more ammo, killing several of the evil marines in order to get to the tank
>It gives me the arm of one of the evil marines
>The arm probably weighs almost as much as I do, and is leaking foul smelling blood everywhere, but I briefly pet the lizard's snout anyways as a show of appreciation
>You can never have too many unstoppable killing machines as friends
>Hopefully none of my other strange companions try to fight the lizard
>Be me. Eye of emperor.
>Fullscale iron warrior invasion force.
>Shove through slaves and master gang. Sign at tank to leave in thoughtmark.
>Don’t think they can read it, but I tried.
>Sprint into squad 1, smack some shit.
>Took a thunder hammer. It’s not a spear, but it’s close enough.
>Easy mode is boring.
>This roght here is the shit.
>Be Warsmith Tonenarch, Iron Warrior
>My forces are making decent progress clearing out the Imperial encampment, unfortunately losses are high, it is going to be a close battle
>Get word from one of my Iron Warrior squads that some sort of warpbeast has allied with the Imperials and has slain several Iron Warriors
>How unusual, I order several more Iron Warriors and a pair of Defilers to head to that region of the battlefield and investigate further
>Be Warsmith Tonenarch, Iron Warrior
>Apparently a Custodian has been spotted by one of the squads I sent to hunt down the warpbeast
>Koreg had mentioned something about that earlier but I dismissed it as more of his insane ramblings
>Sigh, I am probably going to have to come back later with more soldiers, victory is becoming increasingly unlikely
>Send even more forces to the area where the warpbeast and the Custodian were last seen, even if I can't win the battle I can still take their heads for my trophy room
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>Ivana seems to be happy with my support and cover fire
>annnd great
>more traitor Astartes
>the big ass lizard just tears through them
>and he just brought lazy Sasha a bolter
>look to Ivana
Make sure we don’t hit the massive warp lizard, I think it’s on our side.
>give the lizard a sandwich
>see perverts in the distance
>start shooting them with the stubber
>ask lazy Sasha to load the krak launcher please
>Be me, Ivana Prosta.
>Suddem fucking artilery andhorde of screaming humans.
>Can barely hear anything over the noise.
>Astartes just fucks off over the dune, waving goodbye in some weird way.
>Start hosing big guns across the line of the horde.
>Artilery is killing a bunch of them.
>Pull self out of tank. Start shoving the officers inside so they don’t die to the explosions.
>Make sure to get the cute, awkward one to safety first.
>Going to be a crowded tank.
>Yell at them to get inside of they want to live.
>Be Salamander Chapter Master Tu'Shan.
>Is on our really cool custo-made ship (which I helped design and forge) coming back from a great day of helping civies and setting d'eldar on fire.
>One of my friends says that there are people down on the planet below us that could use some help.
>There are Xenos down there that are not on fire.
>Also, the Blood Ravens are there.
>The same ones that stole the Eye of Vulkan a few days ago.

>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>The Fake Commissar needs me to reload his weapon again
>Some things never change
>The big friendly marine with the hammer is doing a good job smashing up the evil marines and their hapless henchmen
>Spot another wave of those creepy perverts coming in hard
>They are being led by a stunningly attractive evil marine riding on a floating chariot pulled by nude, large chested women
>He seems way to happy to see me, almost as if he can see straight through my clothes and can see something more attractive than what is actually there
>Shiver with disgust
>Don't even notice that the number of artillery shells landing around us has increased significantly until the tank commander orders us all into the tank
>Technically she probably only meant the officers, but I really didn't feel like being left alone outside with artillery falling everywhere and a horde of sex fiends charging the tank
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>once everyone is in I pull Irina back in
>1 part because one good turn does another
>2nd part is because I have no idea how to command a tank
>pull my stubber in just to be safe
>thank Irina for the cover
>tank rocks a lot but doesn’t last long
>hear a counter attack being sounded
>and hear over the vox that reinforcements are here
>thank Irina one more time
>Be Warsmith Tonenarch, Iron Warrior
>Pretty much all the forces I have sent again the warpbeast, the Custodian, and the unusually lucky tank have not returned
>Oh how the currents of destiny like to ruin my perfectly laid out plans
>Trick the leader of the Noise Marines warband to deal with them instead while the rest of my forces try to find the Staff
>Then a wave of Salamander drop ships shows up
>Fuck you destiny, fuck you
>be abomination
>see weird naked people rapidly approaching
>see that дpyг goes into box after seeing the naked people
>this will not stand
>full sprint to them from behind the box
>smack the naked ladies away from the man
>hear a wet splat when I do so
>grab the man with both hands
>bite the man
>tastes like bad sand in the warp
>spit head out and throw him at metal men
>see big tubes
>дpyг must need these
>run over and smack weird grey men away
>tube is heavy, but I pick it up
>run back to box
>more men that look like дpyг show up and shoot at the grey men and naked men
>they must like дpyг to
>good, they will live longer
>Be Ivana Prosta.
>Imterally happy awkward commissar thanked me, he seemed so genuine.
>Doesn’t matter that he got my name wrong, he pulled me in himself, and thanked me.
>Nice to have some recognition around here.
>Absolutely no room in the tank, basically just lie there, unmoving.
>Ask gunner what he sees.
>Fucker gives the single most unhelpful answer of “You’ll want to see this yourself”
>Get someone to pull me up to the view port, wondering if I can order him to shoot himself.
>Look out. See handsome marine on chariot.
>Chariot is being pulled by a bunch of busty, naked women.
>Erotic, but vulgar.
>No class or dignaty to it.
>Order the gunners to open fire on the marine, but spare the slaves.
>Gunner tells me he’s dry.
>All the others say they’re out.
>Fuck it, guess we’re going for a resupply first.
>Voice this plan to the officer pile.
>Hope they’re okay with it.
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>apologize for the screw up
>I’ve bees surrounded by so many Ivans and Anyas and Sashas and Irinas
>has to push past to get to the view finder
>ask her if I might have a look >>68073925
>did that void lizard just rip the head off of a traitor Astarte?
>ask Sasha if she ordered any artillery
...because it is bringing it to you
>agree with Ivana that a resupply is a good idea
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Tucked in back corner of tank, it is suffocatingly hot in here, take off a couple more items of clothes, tempting to remove everything except don't want to be mistaken for one of those pervert cultists if I leave the tank
>Fake Commissar tells me that the lizard thing is bringing me artillery
>Not quite sure what he means by that, is he bringing me a whole tank or something?
>Wouldn't be too surprised at this point
>Apparently the tank is heading away from the front lines to get more ammo
>Fine by me, I figure at this rate I might even survive the battle
>Seeing as no one needs me for anything right now I take the opportunity to eat one of the Fake Commissar's sandwiches and chug one of my vodka flasks to stay hydrated
>Be Warsmith Tonenarch, Iron Warrior
>Get word that the Noise Marine leader got bit in half by the warpbeast and that some of his sacred ponygirls got smushed
>Ugh, whatever
>Screw this
>Order remaining Iron Warriors to retreat, the slave fodder and the remnants of the other warbands can cover our withdrawal
>The Staff probably isn't there anyways, and if it is the Imperials probably don't know what to look for
What happened to other other sasha? She’s just in the tank chilling?
Think “Guardsman Sasha” went back to base
And Oscar moved on quick
Artillery bombardment will do that.
Have a feeling we will meet back at base
>Be me. Ivana Prosta.
>Be waiting for tank to get back to supply depo.
>Feel an elbow in my back, turn neck.
>One of the girls is taking her clothes off, sweat drenched.
>Gesture to water box.
>Would take eyes away, but it’s too hot to move in here.
>Not just that I don’t mind watching once in a while.
>Tank grinds to a halt, yell at everyone to get out, and for someone to drag me out.
>Would it be breaking orders if someone removed some of the layers for me?
>Try to ignore the elbow to the helmet. Feel better that it hurt them more.
>Need air, water, and a gentle breeze.
>Be me. Eye of emperor.
>Iron warriors are running away.
>Shame. I'd just been about to take out a defiler.
>Walking back to where brain says camp is with new loot.
>Thunder hammer, a power claw, and a bolter.
>Hear some whimpering coming from somewhere in the dunes.
>Come across charnel house.
>Bunch of naked, crying women hugging themselves and working their way out of their chains.
>Several are injured and dead, by what looks like a rampaging beast, or that warpspawn xeno thing I saw before.
>Chains are attached to ruin of chariot seemingly, where a very splattered astartes is.
>Should have worn your armour you ponce.
>Take his sword. Whispers like the other one, but that shit don't bother me.
>Imma make you into a proper weapon.
>Turn around.
>Bunch of the nude women are standing in front of me, more are looking at me.
>Fine, probably should take them back, give them some food and water.
>They carry their wounded. Which is good, otherwise I'd have to give them the Emperors mercy.
>Not that many wounded. Two wounded noticeably, five fine to walk.
>Probably should get back. Give self time to forge spear, and tell that stupid tank commander to not wear so much. Protection is fine, but you need to stay functional.
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>be support gunner Trosk
>the traitors are retreating
>good, now i can get ba- [BOOT OVERRIDE: 442]
>okay then this is happening
>begin to pursue the heretics at mach 5
>big marine is fighting a defiler
>simply plough through one of it's legs, removing it in the process
>can see another fuckhueg marine
>probably the leader
>alter course to intercept
>what the fuck

am become death, fucker of toaster
>Be me.
>Ivana Prosta.
>Just lying on ground inside shed, letting my soaked uniform vent heat from me.
>Water isn't doing much, just stuck a bottle straight under uniform.
>Feels freezing on my skin.
>Look around.
>No one can see me back here.
>Could possibly undo a few more zips and buttons.
>Peel back assorted layers of drenched, stuck together heavy fabric like a shell, exposing raw undershirt and midriff to air.
>Feels absolutely incredible.
>Note that white undershirt, being so soaked, isn't performing so well.
>Fortunately no one can see back here, so all is well.
>Could invest in a water cooled bodyglove, if we have any in the base.
>Probably not, knowing my stellar luck.
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>finally pull myself out of the tank
>start cleaning the mud and blood out of my stubber
>hear massive footsteps heading out way
>see that the void lizard is holding a artillery cannon
>it looks around frantically
>think it’s looking for lazy Sasha
>point over to her
>it runs off in her direction
>look back over to the tank
>see a chest plate get tossed off
>guess Ivana is taking a break
>good for her
>hear clanging metal and see that the tonka cat is now a terminator
>don’t want to know what the tech priests did to him
>restock my sandwiches, vodka and water
>now I’m ready
>be abomination
>see дpyг eating a odd triangle and drinking a clear fluid, think its water
>place large tube in front of дpyг
>small tube falls out of the back
>дpyг looks afraid and backs up from the tube
>tube must scar дpyг
>throw tube at grey metal men
>there is no metal man there
>might be why дpyг is scared of tube
>Be Oz, head of the four Basilisks on the planet
>some general sends firing orders
>Don’t even have more than one gun loaded
>Fire it off anyway
>Some conscripts show up waving their hands around and I think shouting but I haven’t heard sound in four years
>ignore them and order ogryns to start reloading with hand signals
>tfw so bored
>and the recaf machine is broken
>just another splendid day isn’t it
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>want some recaf
>see that one of the artillery guys trying to fix the recaf machine
>grab some of the instant stuff
>start a fire with some dry wood
>boil some water and pour it into a pot
>drink some
>not the worst cup of recaf i had
>but not the stuff i had on that hive city
>but still
>Be me. Eye of Emperor.
>Be finally back at camp.
>Direct the ones carrying wounded to the medicae tent.
>Should probably get the other ones something like clothing. They don't seem very comfortable walking around nude in camp, and I can't stand complaining, even non-verbal.
>Frak it, supply time.
>Direct them to the big general supply shed area.
>They should find something there.
>Now where is the motor pool. I could use a plasma welder.
>This has been a great day.
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>see naked people be led into the medic tent
>am I supposed to interrogate them to see if they are heretical?
>or is that a inquisition job?
>wait to see if someone brings it up
>the warp lizard is waiting for lazy Sasha’s response
>note that there is more than a discarded chest plate
>there is like 3 Guardsman worth or armor there
>call out to Ivana
>ask if she is ok
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Finally able to relax for a bit outside the tank
>Rumor has it that most of the fighting is basically over except for a few stragglers
>Cool, I guess I just survived my first combat experience
>Not sure how I feel about this
>Kind of indifferent really, same as I how I feel about most things except tanna and idiots
>Finish eating a sandwich and drinking some more vodka
>Wonder if the tanna machine is still in one piece
>Lizard thing comes over carrying some sort of heavy mortar
>A shell falls out when he places it on the ground
>Scramble to get to cover in case the fall triggers an explosion
>Lizard thing seems to realize its mistake and throws the shell away, causing it to detonate, hopefully no one got hurt
>Start to wonder what the lizard thing actually is, I guess if the Commissars don't care then neither should I
>Decide to try to communicate with him
>Give him a sandwich to hold his attention, then point repeatedly at myself while saying "Sasha"
>Then alternate between pointing at myself while saying "Sasha" and pointing at it in hopes it will identify itself
>be me, Oz, stuck in charge of the three and a half basilisks on the planet
>in a nuclear hellscape, soldiers screaming around me as a chaos titan steps through dust clouds and broken buildings
>cannon pointed in the appropriate general direction
>Close my eyes and say a prayer to the Emperor
>the building I’m in starts crumbling from the recoil
>tfw the titan is looking right at me
>the voidshield visibly flickers for one second, and by The Emperor’s Grace the shell passes through hitting it squarely in the face
>the titan had already retaliated, firing some accursed weapon at my position
>I am flung into the air
>I awake back on this damn shithole
>tfw why am I still suspended in the air
>ogryn holding me suspended in the air, carrying me to some guard camp
>tfw why are there so manny cat women?
>tfw is that a techpriest?
>what in Emperor’s name is that lizard thing and how is it smoking
>I miss shooting los artillery at titans
>Be techpriest
>I have taken over the role of Medicae in medical tent 3B since the previous Medicae disappeared after his failure to install the Electrostatic Nipple Clamps on the felinid abhuman
>I don't know much about medical procedures either, but no one really cares about the well-being of low ranking Guardsmen anyways
>Someone brings in several nude females to my tent for medical attention
>They are not even Guardsmen, maybe they are prisoners being processed for interrogation
>Begin cursory examination of first female with mechadentrite mounted scanners projecting from my left eye socket, right shoulder, and groin, verbally dictating examination for benefit of the patients and their escorts
Subject #1 :
Human Female
Age: 26
Core Organs and Skeletal Structure: Healthy, likely privileged upbringing, viable source of transplant organs
Blood: Contains high doses of stimuli enhancing drugs
Brain: Scans indicate scarring associated with recent mental trauma, brain suitable for 87.1% of lobotimization procedures
Minor Injuries: Dermal damage caused by abrasion to soles of feet, eight infected piercings, two burn marks, and lash marks on back. Tissue damage caused by silicone implants, partial removal of vocal chords.
Conclusion: Subject has had exposure to a proscribed cult, lobotimization or termination recommended
>Subject seems displeased with this news, not sure why
>Head off to find nearest Commissar to inform him of news
>be abomination
>дpyг calls herself Sasha
>fangs and weird snake tongue make it hard to say
>say the one thing I can repeat
>point to her with one finger and eat weird triangle
>triangle is good
>better than naked man in chariot
>head pat to say thank you
>May have done it a bit hard, as I knocked her over
>Be Lord General Beython
>Get congratulated by Inquisition for defending an important xenos ruin from heretics
>Wait what?
>Check dataslate
>Realize that I forgot several regiments out in the middle of nowhere
>Also where I told that idiot Virgas to parachute a bunch of tanks
>Apparently total losses were close to 73% with sporadic fighting ongoing
>But I got a shiny metal
>Totally worth it
>Be me.
>Ivana Prosta.
>Be just waking up from nice nap to sounds of basilisk fire and someone calling my name.
>Realise I'm also out of my uniform(s) and that the whole mess of it is now exposed.
>Realise that the heat has kind of baked my undershirt to my chest. Doesn't even reach abs.
>At least with all the water I don't smell too awful.
>Need to get back and get stuff on before I get found.
>Don't remember physically extracting myself from it but oh well.
>Just hope the jealous commissar doesn't see me.
>Still, could try seducing my way through things now.
>But I'd rather not get blammed, slightly more then I'd rather not put on literally all the gear I'm issued as a tank commander at once.
>Be an acolyte of the Most Holy Inquisition
>Do many dirty jobs on my home planet, only communication with my Lord Inquisitor is through vox and occasional direct message from an astropath.
>After many years of patient service, am instructed to join his personal retinue.
>Brought through the Warp (terrifying!) to his own personal yacht in orbit around some planet that's having an Ork invasion or something.
>Get my first assignment from my patron delivered personally, face to face.
>Couldn't be any more excited if one of the Saints spoke to me.
>He wants me to smuggle a particular guardsman, a tech priest in his employ, and two guards to a secluded corner of the Cruiser that the general of this task force is commanding from.
>See, they have a regicide appointment in a few days, and my patron wants to be sure to win, so he's bringing in a ringer and wants to set up a communication and vision relay to have our guardsman buddy, who is some sort of regicide champ, to tell him what moves to play.

I don't know how to go on. It's absolutely soul crushing. What should I do, friends?
>Be Vespera Samothrace, ex-Slaaneshi Cultist
>By ex, I mean as of three minutes ago when I finally admitted to myself that there is no way we are winning this fight
>Manage to loot an overcoat and a fur hat off of one of the dead guardsmen, but got worried that the disguise wasn't good enough
>Sneak around Imperial camp looking for something more concealing to wear
>Find half naked woman roughly my size waking up from a nap in a shed next to a pile of bulky gear
>Knock her out with my spiked dildo-club and steal all of her clothes
>I should probably finish her off, but hoping to redeem myself in the eyes of the Emperor despite spending the past two months participating in drug fueled orgies in some alternate dimension
>We all go through that phase right?
>Sneak off and try to find some under strength unit to blend in with
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>seeing some deeply heretical shit
>draw my shotgun and walk up behind the obvious fake
>poke back with shotgun
Care to tell me why you knocked out and stole a guardsman’s uniform?
>stand far enough behind her as to not be disarmed
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>So the lizard thing is called дpyг
>Or maybe it was calling itself дpyг
>Hard to tell, but we are making progress
>Lizard tries to pet me, but uses too much strength and knocks me off the crate I am sitting on, causing me to fall backwards and hit my head on another crate
>Pet the lizard on the snout again to assure him there is no hard feelings, then go see if I can find a medic since my vision has become a bit blurred
>Show up at medic tent only to find a group of naked women being poked at by a techpriest with some sort of penis mecha tentacle
>He asks me to go find a Commissar, agree since he doesn't seem like the kind of guy whose bad side I should be on
>Wander around for a bit, find Fake Commissar interrogating that pervy heavily armored tank commander chick while some naked women lies on the ground nearby
>Things are starting to get a bit weird around here...
>Be Vespera Samothrace, ex-Slaaneshi Cultist
Well this may look at bit unusual, but...
>Open up my wallet to display my Vermilion coded ID badge from back when I was a senior adviser attached to the Guard
I am a noblewoman in the service of the Lord General, he sent me down to this rock to judge the character of the men in this division
This horrendous attack unfortunately occurred when I was in the middle of a bath
Upon exiting my tent, I was set upon by some of your ruffian soldiers who apparently mistook me for a cultist
I was forced to defend myself and looted a uniform off one of their corpses since my tent had burned down by that point, taking my clothes with it
Unfortunately the man was larger than me, so I sought out a soldier who was of similar height and build to exchange clothes with to prevent future misunderstandings
When I encountered that women there partially undressed, I decided it would be more expedient to knock her out and take her uniform than waste time with a pointless conversation like this
Now if you will excuse me, you have wasted enough of my time, you are lucky I don't have time to write up her for dereliction of duty, and you for impersonating a commissar, which you clearly are not
>Storm off while everyone is standing still in shock, they were probably still standing there two hours later as I use my credentials to commandeer a shuttle and board a nearby passenger vessel, never to be seen again
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Well that was interesting
Hey Commissar, the techpriest needs you in the medic tent for something, probably to figure out what to do with those naked women we captured
I should warn you though, it is getting kind of weird in there
We should probably bring your friend along as well, it looks like she took a solid hit in the head
>look to the woman storming off
>look to lazy Sasha
Yes, can you ensure that the security of the camp? I don't want anymore incidents like that again.
>grab Ivana and what gear she has left and carry her over to the medic
>ask what the hell he is doing
>my commissar act is getting better
>place Ivana on table and cover her up
>need more recaf or vodka
(Sorry guys, connection errors for me)
>Be techpriest
>Look up from my operating table where I am hard at work reattaching a Guardsman's scrotum
>Oh look, a Commissar, he must be here about the female prisoners
>State I am reattaching a Guardsman's scrotum that was damaged by shrapnel in response to his opening question
>Repeat my assessment of Subject #1's health word for word
>Give similar assessments for Subjects 2-7
>Ask him whether he wants to carry out the executions himself, or whether he wants me to carry out executions / lobotimizations
>Technically there are other options, but based on past interactions with the Commissariat, there is a 97.6% chance that the disposal option chosen will be one of the three mentioned
>think for a few minutes
>don't want to blow the ruse
>know that our forces are weakened
>also know we have a surplus of arms and armor some how
If given some time for rehabilitation, could they be combat ready?
>Be me.
>Ivana Prosta.
>Bitch of a headache.
>Was lying on ground, waking up, someone smacked me with.
>Hopefully not what I think it was.
>And why am I naked?
>At least I have a sheet over me.
>Where am I?
>Sit up, look around.
>In tent, surrounded by that group of attractive, well built women, now in states of semi-nudity, wearing their own poorly fitted uniforms or folded sheets. Some are looking concerned with my injuries.
>D-did that blow kill me and send me to paradise?
>Can conscript them into courtesan schola.
>Imma have me a full out harem.
>But first, where's my uniform set? It's a pain getting them in my size and I refuse to wander round base in a sheet.
>Ask the medicae techpriest if I can take the girls back to my tent for some rest.
>I'm a tank commander, if not a regimental officer, I should have some influence.
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
You will get some new gear in a minute Commander Prosta. How is your head?
>Be techpriest
>Hmm, delayed execution by drafting the prisoners into front line service
>An interesting option, I had only estimated it as 0.3% likely
>But perhaps fatalities within the regiment are higher than I realize
Very well, I will perform rudimentary repairs on those with significant damage as per Guideline 45-e3 on performing medical procedures on conscripts, battle slaves, and other Class F-8 personnel
>Activate bone saw and prepare to amputate shattered left leg of Subject #4
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>take a deep breath as this will be my first "Commissar Speech"
Alright ladies, those of you that can sit up, please do so. Now, all of you were followers of the god of chaos known as Slaanesh, weather your choice it was willing or not is irreverent at this time. As your mechanical friend has said, 97.6 percent of my fellow commissars would have had you executed or lobotomized. However, I believe that you all can find redemption in the emperor's eyes through dedicated service to the imperium of man. I will not lie however, there is a chance of dying in your service, however, I believe you all would agree that ding in the emperor's service, and eventually find yourself among him is a far better alternative to a summery execution, or a full lobotomy.
>pause for effect
It would be my honor for you to serve in our battalion
>salute the 7
For the emperor.
>be abomination
>scared that I hurt дpyг
>sit outside odd box that дpyг went in
>some of the people that look like Sasha walk around me
>makes sense
>these tiny men could be gone with a swipe
>wait for дpyг
>Be me.
>Ivana Prosta.
>Awkward commissar asks about head injury.
>Wave it off. I've had worse.
>Well actually I haven't but I don't want to be that girl.
>Says he'll find some new gear.
>See he's inducting the rescued girls into the guard.
>Wonder if I can get them put under my command idly.
>Perhaps I can promote my current crew to command tanks of their own, and replace them with these ladies?
>On one hand, pipe dream. On the other, the crew did perform extremely well by both not dying and holding off an entire two armies, so they do deserve it.
>Question for later I guess.
>Not sure if I want the girls to use up all the gear in my size or not currently.
>Ask if some of them can help me back to my tent.
>The medicae tent sucks and I don't trust the techpriest or its literal cyberdongs.
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>be Skitarii Alpha Trosk
>I now understand the power of REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
>managed to capture several traitors in (relatively) good condition
>punch a hole in reality and drag the partially dismembered traitors through into the camp
>i managed to literally disarm an Iron warrior
>starting to like these augmentations
>an angry looking, mostly-naked major storms past me
>Oscar, Lazy Sasha & her pet steroid-grox are doing some shit with a bunch of brothel workers while Ivana's just lying on the ground minus her excessive layers of armour
>can hear the big Astarte stomping around somewhere nearby
>the iron warrior in the traitor pile starts to wake up
>mfw he calls me a techno-fiddler
>punch him back into unconsciousness
>drag the pile in the direction of the command tent
>they will know what to do
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>Be me.
>Eye of Emperor Invader.
>Finally done it.
>Hacked the hammer off of the haft, welded on parts of the bolter, took apart the power claw and built into the thunder hammer power generator, angling one fixing feed up at 90 degrees with a straighter claw talon, and affixed the power sword to the other feed point, supplementing it with the power swords field generator, before welding the whole mass together with some spare iron struts.
>Absolute basics of power armour, cobbled together by the wearer, weapons made of whatever scrap could be found, absolute lowest tech level.
>Bringing back that M.29 soul.
>Realise that those days are over twelve thousand years ago.
>Been alive for so long.
>See the now overtly underclothed tank commander very quickly moving past the engineering tent.
>Does she just vary between extremes of clothing choices?
>Walk outside.
>The similarly clad women I found seem to be exiting the medicae tent.
>Don't care what they're up to, I have a new spear.
>be me
>"Commissar Oscar"
>nod and head out to the armory
>order a requisition form for 7 new guardsman and new gear for commander Prosta
>hope that no one suspects I'm not a real commissar
>but my act is much better than before
>realize that I still have the tracking number on the ship that the "former" Slaaneshi cultist
>it was the one I woke up in
>order that ship searched by the ordos hereticus on the grounds for possible heresy
>drink some vodka and put the flask away
>why the hell is our artillery going off anyway?
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>be tau fire warrior
>get directions to go to a shit hole of a planet
>apparently there are some war like grey space marines
>this isnt for the greater good
>load my weapon and get ready for the drop ship
>mfw I will kill these fools for the greater good
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>He wants me to single-handedly provide security to a camp that once contained tens of thousands of guardsmen?
>Also, how am I supposed to prevent a high ranking adviser from doing whatever the hell she wants
>Whatever he was before impersonating a Commissar, it clearly wasn't an officer or a strategist
>Follow him back to the medic tent to see what happens
>See the techpriest amputate one of the woman's legs with his dick saw without anesthetics
>Time to find another medic tent
>Head to a different medic tent
>Some drunk guy named Ivan is manning the tent
>He confirms that I have a concussion and gives me some pain meds
>Ask him how many I should take
>He mutters something incoherent as he moves on to the next patient
>Try taking three
>Wake up three hours later curled up in a ball around the tanna machine, under a table
>Chug some straight from the machine
>Similar to the tanna this morning, it tastes like cпepмa
>Not sure if it is the same machine, or if the techpriest lubed all the tanna machines in this area
>Whatever, still tastes better than recaf
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>do a inspection on the camp after delivering commander Prosta her uniform and gear
>see lazy Sasha stumble out of the second medic tent
>don’t down your pain pills with vodka you idiot
>comment on how well the trenches are dug
>congratulate the survivors of the attack and on their exemplary counterattack
>lizard is following Lazy
>least it will keep her safe
>see something in the distance
>check my binoculars
>be abomination
>follow дpyг as she walks out of tent
>is дpyг sleepy?
>she eventually falls asleep under a table with the boxes that smell nice
>she wakes up and drinks it
>hear pops and booms
>poke her with my knuckle and point to where I hear the noises
>hear shouting from the man in the hat and coat
>might be bad
>Be me. Ivana Prosta.
>Be upset.
>Wasn't allowed to take any of the girls back, cute awkward commissar delivered my new gear and didn't even notice me, and now I have to get back in the tank.
>Want to go fast, but other orders still stand so it takes way too long to get to the tank with all my gear on again.
>At least we have ammunition now.
>Would like to see if I could get promoted to a baneblade commander if we have any. Perhaps if I survive the next battle I can go.
>Yell at driver to drive, dumping pre-emptive water bottle down neck of uniform.
>Cold and wet, but best to start now.
>Get to front lines. Yell at the two other tanks over vox to hurry up.
>Slump against back of seat.
>Hopefully this time I'm not used as a taxi service, and I don't have that jealous commissar woman staring down at me the entire time, or having to deal with no space inside the tank.
>Tell the gunners to fire at will and to hold this position, we're undermanned as it is.
>Consider suggesting what's left of the camp could pack up and move somewhere, away from the place that seemingly attracts every xenos ever.
>Something else to do if we survive.
>be fire cast warrior
>drop ship lands near the northern front
>no tanks here
>take cover
>closer to the humans than I’d like, but at least we aren't in bayonet range
>start taking shots at the Guardsmen
>Be Hallie Svaarda, AKA Subject #1, former chariot puller
>Apparently I just got drafted into the Guard
>Stand up straight to salute Commissar back, but unfortunately this causes the old tarp I wrapped around myself to fall to the ground
>Everyone was polite enough to pretend not to notice, but still deeply embarrassed
>One would think being forced to prance around naked for the past couple of weeks would desensitize me to that sort of thing, but I reeeeeeeaaaally wanted to make a fresh start
>Who would have thought that joining a poetry writing club would end so badly?
>Frankly I am pretty surprised that they didn't execute us on the spot, several past members of the chariot team were cultists who were just into that sort of thing
>Despite the piercings, the implants, and the two tainted symbols branded into my flesh, the creepy techpriest declares that I am fit to serve as a "Class G Conscript, Penal Trooper, or Penitent Self-Guiding Explosive"
>Afterwards get sent to quartermaster's tent where I am assigned a lasgun, knife/bayonette, water flask, entrenching tool, grooming kit, dog tags, a book called the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, boots that are about two sizes too big, trousers that keep getting caught on that one piercing, fur hat and wool socks that are completely unsuitable for a desert climate, and a ball of boot polish
>The quartermaster couldn't find any armor that would fit over my chest properly thanks to certain enhancements I had unwillingly underwent, so settled on giving me a large undershirt and a military jacket that doesn't actually button up
>Smear some boot polish over both cheekbones to cover up the tainted symbol below my left eye while waiting for the other women to be equipped
>No one is sure what to do next, I want to tell them to try to find the Commissar again, but unfortunately am unable to talk, something I still find deeply frustrating needless to say
>Fortunately/unfortunately sirens go off all over the base at this point
>Quartermaster orders us to nearest trench in order repel the attackers
>Recognize them as Tau from my readings back home
>Would have much rather been shooting at my former captors in the Slaaneshi warband, or anyone else for that matter, I have always found the philosophy of the "Greater Good" rather interesting
>Oh well, better you than me
>Aim at nearest Tau and pull trigger
>Nothing happens
>Duck behind barricade and try to figure out how to turn off safety
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>also be on the northern front
>we start talking hits real bad
>most men don’t even poke their head out of the trench
>doesn’t help that I’m not even doing it
>get in the vox
>who to call for support?
>pray that she can get here fast
>be me again
>quickly tell the new recruits about the safety on the lazguns
>knew a guy who accidentally killed his buddy when he wasn’t taught how to use a lazgun
>be tau fire cast warrior
>just got a laser light in the eye
>try to find out who did that
>see some barely dressed woman with a lazrifle get pulled into a trench
>are these guys seriously that poorly equipped?
>Be Hallie Svaarda, AKA Subject #1, former chariot puller
>Safety switch on this model of lasgun is much harder to find then it should be
>Nod thanks to Commissar, he is much nicer than the ones in the stories
>Fire off a few shots at advancing Tau
>Unfortunately this just draws their attention
>Forced to duck back into trench as several shots narrowly miss me
>See cylinder bounce into trench next to me
>Grab it and throw it back out of trench
>It detonates outside of the trench, producing lots of light and sound but thankfully no shrapnel
>Hear something land beside me
>Turn around, it is some sort of lightly armed tau
>Grab it and wrestle it to ground, it is weaker than expected, but I have nothing to kill it with since my knife was in the bayonet slot of my lasgun when I dropped it to grab the grenade
>Hopefully someone else will show up and finish it off before more tau show up
>be me
>”Commissar Oscar”
>grab spare knife and stab tau that Guardswoman Svaarda is choking
>tell her good job and to stick to cover
>toss a krak grenade out of the trench
>haven’t even seen a frag grenade sense I have gotten here
>did they literally just give us krak grenades?
>be fire cast warrior
>well ka’resh is dead
>why he charged I don’t know
>just keep shooting at anything in range
>if nothing else, we can degrade morale to the point that they will surrender
>suppressive fire
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>The lizard thing is poking at me
>Apparently it wants me to go investigate the sounds of fighting
>What is it, a Commissar now?
>Head to shower tent instead, still dizzy from pain killer pills and concussion
>I did my part during the last round of fighting, someone else can pick up the slack this time
>As an added bonus, everyone should be out fighting, so no leering perverts who "accidentally" wandered into the wrong room
>Take shower, pay particular attention to scalp wound, no point in letting it get infected
>Tau Pathfinder wanders into shower room
>Orders me to surrender
>It seems confused, it probably has never seen a nude female before
>Try to think of a way out of this situation
>Vaguely remember from the Uplifting Primer that Tau are afraid of water and loud noises
>Probably bullshit, but even a broken clock is right twice a day
>Cup hands together to collect a handful of water from the shower, then throw it in the Tau's face while screaming at the top of my lungs
>Charge Tau while it is still disoriented
>End up in a brief wrestling match where I am able to kill it with its own knife
>Hmm, I guess the primer is right about some things...
>Grab the Tau's gun and use it to cover the door in case more Tau have entered the building
>Be me.
>Tank Commander Prosta.
>Finally feel I can call myself a tank commander.
>Hear the cute commissar yelling over vox for me.
>Needs my help specifically.
>Order two tanks to remain here and deal with the forces incoming.
>Can't afford to take them with me, barely holding as is.
>Tell them to do whatever it takes and that reinforcements will arrive in a few minutes.
>Take off, full speed to the other side of the complex.
>Firing from inside the base as we go.
>The commissar I like and the consorts-to-be are in danger.
>Tell them to keep their heads down as the big guns finally open fire in a wide spray over the line.
>Have nearly been hit three times with the plasma pulses. Not regretting wearing the protective gear. Only wish I put on armour over it now.
>Just keep firing.
>Yell at the commissar to get the girls and himself out, and shore up the position I left.
>I will hold this position.
>No matter what foes conspire against me, within and without.
>For the Emperor is with me.
>And I have the bigger guns.
>Be me.
>Eye of Emperor.
>Seriously enjoying myself now.
>Tau are tricky, and shoot plasma, so one needs to block them on the spear blade.
>Done it before in Kangba Marwu before getting swarmed by the crusader host, can do it here. They are much worse shots and are only from one direction.
>Feeling like a Custodian again.
>Miss this kind of stuff.
>Proceed to get slam tackled by a battlesuit and picked up.
>Going high now.
>Really high now.
>What's the maximum flight ceiling on this thing?
>Looks adapted for flight. Probably high.
>Punch spear into it a couple of times.
>It tries to throw me away now. Use spear spike to hook into it.
>Not falling from the stratosphere today.
>Pilot goes for some spinning. I crawl my way up there and punch a fist through the cockpit. I make sure to crush its skull before throwing him.
>Am seriously up high here. Almost in space.
>Can I use this thing to avoid going splat?
>Feel self falling now. Tear off some of the parts and take the thing apart.
>Falling for about a minute before I get a data spike in from the left wrist to the remnants of the suit back section.
>Run through some code conversions for another twenty seconds, clamp it to armour via magnetics and fire the jets.
>Almost pray that it works.
>be fire cast warrior
>these humans have a lot more than we planned for
>call for back up
Bring in the Hammerhead!
>mfw these fools will know the greater good
>be me
>say thanks over the vox
>order suppressive fire over the vox and order the troops back
>we have to cover the northern line
>plasma shot nearly takes off subject 4’s head
>thankfully number one pushed her out of the way
>and she didn’t get hit
>provide suppressive fire with my stubber
>managed to hit a few
>dive into the next trench, dodging a hail of plasma fire
>thank Ivana again for the backup
>see some big tau drop ship
>and a fucking tau tank comes out of it
>oh come on
>it’s obvious that we need backup
>get in the vox and ask for any and all available forces to provide support to our position in this system
>Be me.
>Tank Commander Ivana.
>Shooting, being a beast, holding the line.
>Suddenly blinded briefly, as air is sucked out of lungs.
>Blink it away and find that a hole has been punched through my tank.
>Barely missed my leg.
>Order Lascannons to fire on it immediately.
>Three solid hits.
>Hover tank deploys glitter.
>Next hits don't do much.
>Order we move to evade.
>Second shot deflects of side armour but leaves a sizeable dent that will need checking.
>Shooting solid rounds from punisher cannon at the tank.
>Tank is on rise.
>Rise gives good firing opportunities.
>We have demolisher blades on the tank.
>Order ramming speed.
>Still shooting it with lascannons.
>Hope this works.
>Be me.
>Eye of Emperor.
>Be floating above planet on jerry rigged jetpack.
>Be fiddling with the arm code while safely descending.
>"The warrior who rushes to be first to the field of battle is the first off the field of life"
>Realise that bit of wisdom is so old now it's probably holy scripture or a historic quote.
>How time passes.
>Now, where to drop?
>One line is being pushed back, but is about to be reenforced, and has two tanks. Another is being held off by a lone leman russ and the final is holding still.
>Second one seems to have a tank hunter there.
>In a fair bit of danger.
>Too important to loose.
>Dropping there.
>Cut power and fall.
>Takes a fair while to get down. Leman russ isn't looking too flash.
>Slow fall just enough to avoid splattering or breaking bones.
>Tfw you bounce the hovertank.
>Tfw your impact leaves a crater in the thing.
>Tfw the main gun of the thing stops crackling so loudly.
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>be Skitatii Alpha Trosk
>I got promoted
>the techpriests gave me a new weapon
>it's a stub carbine
>looks like a small version of Sasha
>I shall name you Boris
>suddenly Tau
>commander starts shouting an incomprehensible tirade of profanity
>get given medal and told to lead a bunch of half-retarded Skitarii to support the guard
>where the fuck where these guys when the heretics were attacking?
>get kicked kicked out of the tent and told "fuck 'em up"
>arrive at combat area
>I'll get my head turned into a fine red mist if I try to charge them at this range
>sneeki breeki time
>managed to avoid getting spotted while sneaking through the dunes long enough to get to the Tau's flank
>there's a squad of fire warriors sat behind a weird hover barricade
>test out new weapon
>it makes an ungodly BRRRRRRRRRRRRRT noise
>mfw the 4 blueberries closest to me explode into spaghetti chunks
>be me
>Commissar Oscar
HAHA! The cavalry is here!
>the tau tank is getting shredded
>we make it to the northern front
>line is still holding thanks to the tanks left here
>tau still firing but they are not advancing
>order a bombardment on their position
>the hell do these guys keep coming from?
>Be me.
>Commander Prosta.
>Demolisher blades go through the hammer head and the lascannons shred the remains.
>Thing lets off this swarm of little bits of metal as it does though.
>Kills the drive chain and tugs at my leg.
>Driver shouts that we're immobilised.
>Tell him to get out the floor crawlspace and figure out what this is, and if we can fix it.
>Order the rest to keep firing, as the hover tank falls away.
>Orders do not change. We hold this position.
>Driver reports the machinery is busted, can't be fixed.
>Tell him to cover the hole in the tank with something, then to run to get reinforcements.
>Don't like to admit it, but we need help back here.
>See a bunch of their light skimmer craft, with some of their melta-like weapons start skimming over dunes, over the heads of more troops.
>Will need reinforcements.
>At least we have the big astartes fellow.
>Who seems to have developed a jetpack and some extra arms, ended in meltas seemingly.
>Yell at him to get the skimmers.
>Makes job easier.
>be me
>hear that Commander Prosta needs assistance
>order tech priests to head to The downed tank
>order forces to advance and cover the tank while it get repaired
>tau on that front are getting pushed back
>still need to hold this front
>tell Prosta to hang on and that help is on the way
>Be Hallie Svaarda, AKA Subject #1, former chariot puller
>The Commissar calls in armored support to our location but it just seems to cause more tau to be attracted to our position
>Encourage other soldiers to keep their heads down, hopefully the tanks will wipe out the tau in short order
>Wince as newly arrived tank rams a tau hovertank with a loud screech of metal on metal
>The Commissar orders us out of the trench to cover the tank
>I figure the occupants of the tank are still a lot safer than I am once I am standing out in the open with no armor, but orders are orders, especially when a Commissar gives them
>Climb over trench edge and sprint towards the tank, firing blindly as I go
>Really wish I had a bra
>Or was taught how to use a lasgun
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>Be Syba Vech, Dark Reach Kabal
>Ordered to some worthless planet to find some shiny distractions for my Archon
>Pretty much the only thing here are some mon keigh fighting over some old ruins
>Oh look, some of those naive blue skinned little runts, they are still pretty fashionable in Commorragh
>Also, spot some large breasted guardsmen leading a counterattack
>Might as well grab those too, might find a freakshow or a taxidermist to sell them to or something
>Time for some "cultural exchange"
>be me
>goddamn it, the dark eldar fags are here
>eldar are bad enough, but they won’t try to shove a spiked dong up your ass
>get the attention of the 7 subjects
>#3 looks at one of them and starts to hose fire on it
>holy shit she hit it.
>start shooting at anything with long ears and purple skin
>also shooting at anything communist and blue
>glad I can hit things
>one of them tries to grab one of my soldiers
>dark eldar gets a shiny entrenchment tool to the face
>be abomination
>дpyг has blue man’s pipe
>she looks around worried
>apparently failed to see blue man try to hurt дpyг
>kinda sad
>see grey and purple people on weird boxes
>дpyг must need that
>point at it and look at дpyг
хoчy этo?
>kinda impressed I could say that
>Be Hallie Svaarda, AKA Subject #1, former chariot puller
>Didn't realize that Slaaneshi cultists were connected to the Eldar
>One of the jumps of a hover bike, landing next to me
>Her breasts are even larger than mine, and one of her bra cups used to be some person's face
>Starting to see a bit of a resemblance..
>She dodges two point blank lasgun shots, knocks the gun out of my hands, forces her tongue into my mouth while coping a feel
>Yep definitely Slaaneshi
>Luckily one of the other ex-chariot girls manages to bayonet her from behind
>That was close
>They seem to be most vulnerable when they are "making sport"
>Spot a dark eldar doing unspeakable things to a fallen tau
>Cut them both down with a volley of lasfire
>Look for other distracted targets
>Time for payback!
Neckbeardia is a faggot
>be me
>revenge makes a good motivator apparently
>who knew?
>see the tech priests finally make it to the tank and they start molesting it back to health
>why are there so many dark eldar here? Is there’s convention for them or something?
>see the warp lizard pointing to one of them
>oh Emperor, that thing is going to give lazy Sasha a eldar bike
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>No one else seems to be in the shower tent
>Put on my boots, boxer shorts, undershirt, jacket, and hat, no point in getting confused with a cultist like that rich chick
>Keep the tau's gun, heard they are way more powerful then our own despite what the Primer says
>Head outside where the lizard is waiting for me
>It points up at the sky and says something that sounds like "good"
>Look up, notice the distinct outline of dark eldar raiders flying around
>So this is what terror feels like, kind of uncomfortable really
>Even the jaded vets in the regiment fear the dark eldar and say being captured by one is a thousand times worse than even getting sucked into the warp
>Try to indicate with hand gestures to the lizard that we should hide
>Even after seeing him take down groups of evil marines I don't like our chances against the dark eldar
>Hopefully the tau and the dark eldar will kill each other off
>be tau fire cast warrior
>the dark eldar are here
>why are they here?
>the damn things are on their bikes and trying to abduct anything and everything they can
>haven’t been able to get any humans though
>one of them tries to grab me
>try to kick at her
>laser manages to catch her in the shoulder
>drops me in a bush
>grab my gun and take aim at the bigger threat to the greater good
>Be me.
>Commander Ivana Prosta.
>Be now having to deal with not only tau, but dark eldar and seemingly residual amounts of slaaneshi.
>Tank is being swarmed, we're crawling with bodies now.
>Still firing. Half blind past the bodies by still firing. Trying to get the knifelike vehicles, but they move so fast.
>Can feel hands cracking open my several layers, getting under my armour and assorted layers and actually across skin.
>A good propertion of them are in states of semi-nudity, and a good proportion are also quite attractive.
>Can't reach the heavy stubber, resorting to shooting what I can with laspistol, before it's knocked out of my hand and replaced with more of something.
>Order into vox bead to take us in front of the imperial lines, crushing those in our way.
>If they get inside the tank, detonate the engines and the ammunition stores.
>Helmet gets torn off my face, along with the three protective facial baleclavas.
>Must stop them from getting inside.
>Must hold the tank hatch.
>Be me.
>Eye of Emperor Invader.
>Be fighting for life, surrounded by hosts of some of the best the dark city has to offer.
>Dark eldar are fast and deadly fighters, and with my augmentics and old armour, I'm painfully slow against them.
>I used to be able to cut my way through scores of them, but now they can roll over my spear blows.
>All I can do is use the most obscure combat techniques to catch them off, and get them to collide with each other to give me a seconds advantage.
>Perception also used to be better, when I had my full brain and not a mechanical stand in for a lobe.
>Adopt spearman's ready position 16.
>Wait for moment. Strike at three. Two roll aside, one it hit from the blade.
>Wish I had time to reload.
>Second one dies to a hand grabbing its face too hard.
>The third scores a gouge along my armour and evades my comparatively clumsy retaliation.
>Would vox for help, but can't spare the focus.
>At least there isn't the weak neck for them to abuse, though the increased sight would help.
>At least this last while was fun.
>be me
>they are swarming the tanks
>most of them are off their bikes and preoccupied with capturing our troops and the tau
>can’t loose our tank crews
>give the one order that all guardsman want to hear
>everyone’s face when
>put my bayonet on my shotgun and grab the vox
>order the charge
>Be Conscript-Trooper Sasha, 74465th Valhallan
>Hear Fake Commissar yelling at me to bring the lizard along for a suicide charge
>Look around, things are getting pretty bad
>Might as well die on my feet instead of on my back
>There better be a whole tankard of warm tanna waiting for me when I join the Emperor's side in the afterlife
>Start sprinting towards the melee with an underwhelming battle cry on my lips
>Lizard charges into battle ahead of me
>Start shooting at anything Tau or Dark Eldar with my Tau gun
>be abomination
>дpyг wants me to attack grey and purple people
>run to one of them
>jump up and bite head off
>be abomination again
>smack more off of box
>grab one and use as club to smack them away
>men who look like дpyг show up and start stabbing and shooting
>be me
>warp lizard is doing well
>charge up to one who is distracted
>whisper in the foul xenos ear
Not quite the penetration you were expecting ey?
>shoot my shotgun to finish the job
>kick eldar off and start shooting at anything that is a eldar
>once we clear the tank I bang on the hatch
Ivana it’s me...IGOR BEHIND YOU!
>blast xenos
Is anyone wounded?
We are past the bump limit, thread will archive in next couple of hours.

We either wrap things up, create a new thread, or join the other greentext thread
I’ll start up a new one if we are down.
sure, go for it
its at >>68123185

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