Greetings Guardsmen! Despite what I’ve been assured is likely to be a total victory, I (and most of the surviving forces from Vanitor) have been evacuated and redeployed to Drenthal. […]
Greetings Guardsmen! Despite what I’ve been assured is likely to be a total victory, I (and most of the surviving forces from Vanitor) have been evacuated and redeployed to Drenthal. I can only assume that this is because we did so well on Vanitor that our talents are needed in a more pressing war zone. My only regret is that we never did get close enough to the Basilica for me to write a proper review of its architecture!
I imagine the enemy have probably already surrendered, intimidated by our dauntlessness in sending waves and waves of men before the guns.
Now that we’re here, though, I’ve noticed that one of the excellent things about fighting on an ocean world such as Drenthal is the utter removal of any temptation to flee. You’d be amazed at what an incentive to staying put it is to be surrounded on all sides by deep, unforgiving – and definitely not haunted or enemy-infested – ocean. It’s as if the planet itself is a Commissar, sternly but affectionately wagging a bolt pistol in one’s direction at all times.
We’ve been stationed around Tenebral Station Sigma, where the chemical contamination of the water is such that it’ll dissolve a man in full field kit in just a few gruesome, often loud, moments – so if you see a man going overboard, make sure to grab his lasgun and any spare grenades*. You’ll be able to turn these in to your quartermaster for a token; ten of these will entitle you to an extra half ration of recaff, and the respect of your betters!.**
If you are stationed amongst pilots, I would recommend avoiding fraternisation. Most are near deaf from exposure to the engines on their craft, and therefore speak at an exceedingly obnoxious volume, and they are prone to all manner of bizarre exaggeration. I’ve heard officers of the Aeronautica Imperialis claim to have won dogfights with mechanical dragons, while another was screaming something or other about a gigantic Heretic Astartes with the wings of a fly and an enormous scythe. While I have no doubt that our foe have been reduced to the use of farming implements, having rejected the blessed Adeptus Mechanicus, I doubt that this “Mortarion” is anything other than a particularly overgrown Drenthalian mosquito. Daemon Primarch? The name itself is a paradox!
This is actually my second time on Drenthal – during a previous assignment writing on the training exercises of the Aeronautica Imperialis, I was stationed on the Hanghalen Seastead. I must confess that I found the place rather overcrowded before – I hasten to add that this is no fault of the planners of the city, but the diffident and unruly locals, who insisted upon milling about at all hours despite having a whole sleeping capsule to themselves to spend their 30-minute daily break in. The city population has been reduced drastically following the commencement of hostilities, and my regiment have had ample opportunity to sample the sights – admittedly, often through the scope of my lasgun.
The forces of the Archenemy are closing in, but I have absolute faith that we will be liberated. I’ve been informed over the vox that the 55th Alphic Hydras are en route to liberate us. So everything should be fine. As soon as they arrive.
Sounds excellent, Guardsman! We’ll be back with what we’re sure will be an account of a spectacular Imperial victory as soon as we resume control of Drenthal. Best of luck!
* Not by the pin, Perkins.
** Offer redeemable only in the event of Imperial victory in the campaign. Fight on, Guardsman!
*** Please note that all exemptions to combat duty are now invalid due to marginal adjustments in casualty numbers, including all kitchen and custodial staff. Reassignment to combat duty does not equal entitlement to a lasgun, but combat knives will be provided based on merit.