Kaurava I

=PROLOGUE=
I have decided to write my short story as the point of view of a soldier’s journal, each tattered, worn page representing the events of a faithful imperial guardsman’s journey, Thoren Almgren on his first deployment in the universe of the 41st Millennium.



[The following are excerpts from the journal of Imperial Guardsman Thoren Almgren, Rifleman of the Imperial Guard’s 252nd Conservator Regiment. Below are the accounts of the attack on Tranmere]


August 27th, 40001
 Medical Captain Vance Matthews called us into the medbay today for our pre-deployment physical evaluations. He looked the same as usual, wearing his ashen white Flak Jacket that all the Astra Militarum’s medical infantry carried. It bore our Imperial Aquila on the right shoulder plate, representing all of mankind, and he wore a large white chalky underlined “252” on his left shoulder plate, which specified his association with the 252nd conservator regiment. Captain Vance Matthews carried a red cross on his carapace where his heart lie beneath, as well as the medical staff’s standard issue helmet which bore the same red cross that symbolizes humanitarian and medical aid universally. Captain Vance was a sovereign man. He lead his medical staff quite well, and was rumored to have worked his way up the ranks hastefully.
His fellow soldiers have made remarks that he even fought by the side of Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed in the battle of Tyrok Fields, in which the 8th Cadian Regiment retook the city of Kasy Tyrok from the Traitorous Heretics. His medical expertise and individual intellect  are also to have been said to provide great service to the Imperium. He stood sternly as we were called one by one into the infirmary rooms. “88-063, report!” The sudden yet firm exclamation of my Unit ID sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins, as I am ripped out of a daze of awe from the admiration of my superiors. I quickly stood up from the cold, metal medical bench, and made my way towards the infirmary.
I approached the man who called out my Unit ID briskly. Looking up from his clipboard, is a man of similar apparel. His face is clean shaven, and his dark brown eyes look me up and down with distaste. “Thoren Almgren”? I remark softly. “Yes, sir.” The officer points in the direction of the infirmary corridors, and tells me to immediately report to bay 34 for my physical evaluations.
Walking through the corridors, I took my time and began to admire the propaganda on the walls before me. I notice a sign of repetition in the posters to my sides. Imperial Guardsmen can be seen slaughtering the enemies of the imperium, and bright vibrant words flash out expressing the need to fight for mankind against threats to the god emperor. I observed as the glorious soldiers point at me, urging me forward in my progression to war. A feeling of patriotism wrapped around me, and for a minute walking down that corridor, I was in bliss. I approached a room labeled “34” on the frame of the door. I recognized it as an airlock, and swept my ID card on the exterior keypad. An aggressive exhaustion of  contained air fumed out of the sides of the door, and I could see a faint vapor leaking from the airlock. Upon entry of the room, I was greeted by the Medical Servitor whom was to commence the exam. “8-063, please, take a seat.” Ordered the machine, mouth unmoving and cold. It motioned towards the surgery chair with it’s smooth engraved metal arm, bearing the same Imperial Aquila we all wear.  I could hear the whirrs and mechanical noises as it stood emotionless before me. The vox which it spoke through was garbled with static, making the low gothic words it ouput harder to understand. No doubt an older model, the machine moved it’s metal appendages about with borish motions. I was at no surprise, for everything was put to use in the Imperium. Nothing is wasted. Munitions, technology, and of course manpower are used to their fullest extent. I took a seat in the chair hoping that the damned thing would leave soon. The machine suddenly pulled up a hologram with various displays of augmentations and mechanical alloys. With one swipe of its arm, a drone-like sull hovered into the room from a chamber in the ceiling of the infirmary room. The skull was gruesomely augmented, and contained a large red cogitator in its left eye socket which dictated its use as a bioscanner. Metallic wiring could be seen seaming out of the bottom of the skull, near the jawline, and it hovered with a slight grace. The Servo-skull was being controlled by the Servitor, and I watched as the crimson cogitator scanned over me, it’s holographic beam washing over me slowly and carefully. The results of the physical proved that I was ready to serve the Imperium, and quicker than my ass could hit the door on the way out, I was moving on to the Valkyrie Transport ship I had been assigned too. On my way out of the Imperial Facility, I had to approach my Assignment Officer. I looked around the station outside and it looked like a blooming city. All around, people in an assortment of different colors could be seen running back and forth like chickens with their heads cut off. I looked for a man with 252 on the side of their Flak Jacket, and soon enough I found a man dressed in the same drab uniform as me, standing idly in front of our Valykrie. As I approached him, he stared at me grimly. I presented my name and title to him autonomously. “88-063, Reports as follows.” The man sighed. “Kaurava “. The title sounded damned off his tongue. A slight smirk was made by the Imperial Officer, and his black matte moustache grew more noticeable as the grin spread. “This is your first assignment, correct?”  I once again answered autonomously, not allowing myself to break character. “Yes, sir.” He chuckled to himself, pausing his writing on the clipboard to take a look at me again. “You must have done something terribly wrong in your past life to be assigned that sector. Good luck. You’re clear to disembark.” And with that we exchanged salutations, and I proceeded on to the transport ship eager to arrive at my first duty station and serve the God Emperor of Mankind.


        December 18th, 40001
I’ve gotten a hold of this old rugged book again. Writing now, the scene still plays fresh in my mind. I am starting to think I will never forget what happened. Lord Commissar Greggo Phoros was bitter as usual, and called for a roll call earlier than usual. He stood in the middle of our camp by the flagpole, in front of our barracks. He waited for us clad in his black trenchcoat which was completed with the Imperial Aquila on his right breast. The trench coat’s gleaming dark polish had a sanguine finish on the trims, looking similar to blood. He bore an equally black cape, with a gold trim which glistened brightly, emitting an aura of royalty around his person. His laced black leather boots were polished almost perfectly, not a smudge to be found. His presence radiated righteousness and valor, yet we were all struck with fear instead.
                        “Thaddeus” spoke the Commissar, his voice sounding grim and very  authoritative. The captain which stood next to him immediately turned around and saluted with such grace that the men stood in admiration of the Commissar’s influence. “Order your men to patrol the Viker Trails to the east of the cemetery. Make sure there's nothing lurking in the fog today.” Spoke the Commissar, his voice trembling with jurisdiction. With that, the Commissar quickly stormed off into the distance, his Death Korps of Krieg bodyguards following closely behind, draped in their shadowy trench coats. The sounds of their respirators filtering air was audible in the distance. The sheen of the lens of their masks left a sparkle in the dawn. They were clad in jet black clothing, and considered elites of the Astra Militarum “Yes, my Lord.” The Captain changed his gaze to the barracks in front of him. “ALL UNITS! FALL IN!” Exclaimed the captain. The camp soon fell into chaos as everyone scrambled around, assimilating into their correct formations and their ranks. Once they finished lining up, the captain ushered us on our plan of action. “Your mission is to scan the path on the trails west of base camp. Use the fog to your advantage, not your dismay. Report back to HQ when you have finished your patrols and inform us of any data you’ve collected about our situation with the cemetery. Dismissed.”
I could not stand for such an action, for the higher ups knew there was something odd about that cemetery, large as it was. There were multiple reports of patrols going missing in that area, and some rumors of xenos occupying nearby. Even with all my disciplinary training, this suicide mission was made clear, and I found myself not able to hold back. From the back of the formation, I proclaimed “ That’s blasphemy! You’re sending us to our deaths!” With the broken silence, the Captain found me amongst the silhouettes instantaneously. “You. come forth.” He spoke with no demeanor, and a cold, tone of loathing left his tongue. I walked towards the Captain, hands dismissively at my sides, careful with every movement as I was overcome with nervousness. “You dare speak against your superior? Do you know the cost of your crime, heretic?” The question was spoken so truthfully and so perfectly, I almost forgot the answer. “Death” I replied. “The punishment for treason is death, and it is no different than the outcome of this mission you send us on.” “The Captain stood there for a brief moment, he appeared bashful, and quickly uttered “Would you not rather die for your Emperor than against his grace?” The challenge caught me by surprise. I was disgusted that he would question my loyalty and devotion for the God Emperor of Mankind. “I bear the Aquila on my heart, and wear the colors of mankind! I would rather live and fight for my Emperor, rather than die as a trifle conscript on a pointless scouting mission. We already knows what’s there! The xenos are gathering near the cemetery and we need to fight them head on!” The captain stood there obviously amused by my statement. The smirk across his face showed that much. The captain reached forward, and pulled me close to his face. I could see the striations of wrinkles on his weathered face   “I’ll spare you for your disobedience this time, Guardsman, but let it be known that if you ever speak against an officer again you will be sentenced to death.” With that, the officer released his grip on me, and dismissed us all. I was left to clean the latrines.


December 23rd, 40001
The mission went exactly as we expected. Writing this now I feel myself slowly succumbing to my wounds. During the assault I was hit in my left thigh by the bioplasma of one of the Termagants, and the poison has begun percolating into my bloodstream. There was a large amount of casualties on our side. I lost a lot of comrades in that graveyard…
        The patrol was going well, despite the fear that reeked from beneath our boots. Private Kodak, the rifleman that was assigned to me during training, stuck very close by. He turned to me as we trudged through the forest scanning our surroundings. “How long until we reach the objective, Thoren?” The question shook me out of my daze, for I had been deep in thought for the concern of our miniature war party. Kodak’s cerulean eyes seemed brazen, and his brisk march showed how dauntless he was. I turned towards him and gave him a simple remark, lacking certainty. “Soon, I believe.” Kodak nodded in silence, and I watched the cold sweat perspire down his dark neck and into his fatigues as we marched onwards.
After another hour of steps, we finally reached our destination. All around us the woods towered above. There was little to no light, and the few shimmering rays that guided us through our path now started to dwindle as dusk came. The sounds of our boots sludging through the mud of the road echoed, it seemed as if we were the only living life forms in the area besides a few native bird species hovering above us, constantly watching. The captain took note of our surroundings, and began to signal for us to start looking around, when suddenly we heard the first shout. It was Rifleman Thiago.
“Thiago! THERE’S XENOS IN THE AREA!” Cried Kodak. He let out such a bloodcurdling shriek that I cannot be lifted from the memory of it’s sound. Above his wretched form lie a hormagaunt tyrannid, it’s blades now erect and bloodied. The contorted form of Thiago lay a heap of lacerated meat, his limbs now butchered from the sharp appendages of the Xenos. We all rose our weapons and began to open fire, but then something much worse began to happen.  Without warning, several Tyrannids began pouring out from the forest, their white stark exoskeletons erupting from the brush and shrubs surrounding the cemetery. It seemed as if hundreds of the small creatures began hurdling out. Their sharp white fangs were a few inches long, and they exuded out borish noises to each other, communicating like a pack of wolves.
Quickly, we began to open fire on anything we could see. Red hot-torrid streams of las-fire began to fill the air, replacing the ominous low fog with a crimson mist. I opened fire at the aliens as they ran around us, trying to close in us. The Captain made a pitiful attempt to convene our patrol, but it was to no avail as the xenos attacked us with full force from all angles.
During the fight, I was one of the lucky few to take cover in a nearby morgue. The morgue stood 20 feet tall, and was about the size of a small Imperial shrine.  It was forged out of Heavy industrial concrete and seemed to be weathered down due to the amount of cracks and vines growing wild amongst the structure. Our patrol had been cut in half and I remained in the morgue with Vultos and Malakim.The morgue was guarded by a large reinforced ceramite door, capable of withstanding a hellhound tank’s shell with 1 ft thick metal! The three of us shut the heavy ceramite plated door and presumed to start getting our bearings together. All around us, the sounds of war echoed inside the morgue. It was lit by a small lamp and there wasn’t very much space.
It was in this room where I had discovered my wound, and the blood on this page is the product of it. Upon my fleeing of the battlefield, I failed to notice the poison shards sent in to my left leg, through my thigh. It was at this point that I began to feel the poison finally set in and I felt my entire leg go numb. I have become paralyzed here, sitting, useless. The others are fools, they have begun conducting a plan to escape and hightail it back to base. I am sitting here, prolonging the inevitable. I´m starting to feel my breathing slow to a crawl. As I am looking up at the ceiling right now, the world around me is getting darker. I still never figured out why I joined the service in the first place. Was it for myself, or the Emperor? It´s over. Without war there cannot be victory. Without death there cannot be sacrifice. Without the Emperor, there is nothing.
        The 1st Kauravan Infantry Regiment Rifleman placed the journal back in the dead soldier´s hands. He took a look around the area around him and saw two other bodies missing their heads, blood sprayed across the walls like a grim gruesome canvas.¨Suicide¨. The bodies left a miasma of sheer horror.  The soldier to the left of him glanced up and opened it´s mouth as if to say something, but words did not leave him. ¨A disgrace to the Imperium.¨ The soldiers then began to finish checking the area. The soldier who spoke out ran out of the bloodied mess of a building and began helping the others secure the small battlefield. There were corpses everywhere, xenos and human alike. Crate permanently. What were once fellow Imperial Guardsmen were now emasculated, mutilated corpses which were riddled full of poisonous spikes. The soldier thought about what he had just read, and reiterated the soldier´s diary. Glancing out into the fields he watched the armored tanks roll through the graveyard, which were being escorted by a mob of infantry. “Without the Emperor there is nothing”.