1st Membranes

The 1st Membranes were the result of an attempt at creating an Imperial Guard regiment using the Only War regiment creation rules.

The regiment is colloquially known as the Exploding Brains. An Inquisitorial Black Ship crashed on a small forge world, where the remaining figures of authority were almost entirely dead save for the IG regiment command already on the planet. The psykers freed from the ship were absorbed into the regiment, with many of the former soldiers being moved into command positions, including the commissariat, to better watch over their psychic charges. This huge upsurge in the psychic gene has bred true for the citizens of the forge cities ever since, resulting in an unprecedented 97% psyker population within the regiment - a smaller percentage exists within the population at large.

The uniform consists of a tinfoil-lined helmet, white and grey lab coats, a respirator, and a suit of flak armor. They carry presense goggles, M36 lasguns, sandbags, entrenching tools and melee weapons. They are known for being good at melee and street fighting, as well as being paranoid due to their bilious leader. The regiment is also known to have four imperator titans.

In one noted battle, they fought against the Scraplootas Ork clan, which left the hapless greenskins confused and rather disturbed.

Ironically, with the Psychic Awakening making so many new psykers joining the Guard that Guardsmen actually are thinking they might get replaced by psykers, the 1st Membranes might be somewhat plausible.

Writefaggotry

"Is this vox-caster on? Uh, right. Today was my first day in the Membranes. One of the older guys said we were called the "Emperor's Powder-Kegs" but I think he was just trying to frighten me. I mean, we're well trained, no-one's going to actually explode, right?

The camp's actually pretty nice, we've got plenty of rations, and not the usual corpse-starch stuff either, I mean actual food. I haven't had proper meat since throne knows how long. I took a stroll around the camp today. It was pretty peaceful, apart from the occasional screaming, and the odd mad gibbering, but I mean, that's the danger of being a psyker, right? The Commissar I mentioned it to said they'd be taken care of as quickly as possible. That made me feel much better.

I talked with some of the guys, they're a good lot, far as I can tell. Not what the propaganda says psykers are like at all. I played some cards with some of the other troops and then the call came for lights-out. I'm looking forward to my first combat operation.

Now, if only I could get the voices to SHUT UP!"

"Deliperonacus and Carofelaferrocus said I was a very bad person today. I told the Medicae about them, he said to wear this special helmet he gave me, it's all shiny on the inside. Deli and Caro are both gone now. I got a really good nap around midday, without them both telling me to do things. I met another trooper earlier, Hera. She's really nice. I spent the afternoon chatting with her, but when I told my new friends about her during poker, they all went really quiet. Said she's an 'odd one'. I don't know what they mean by that, they wouldn't tell me anything else. Anyway, the order's come through that we're on the way to the frontline! Apparently foul xenos are attacking a holy Imperial forge world nearby, and we're the closest regiment. I haven't seen proper combat since I was bumped through Mental Conditioning when I mentioned my voices to the Medicae in Basic Training, but I've been told it's really exhilarating."

"Thing's have been getting WEIRD, servo-skull. The voices have stopped, thanks to the Medicae's shiny hat, but I'm noticing all kinds of weird things happening. The worst was today on the ship to Phobius IV, that's the forge-world we have to defend, and me and Hera were chatting over dinner rations. She asks me "so what did you have for breakfast, Derik?" And I says, "Slaughterbeast and pickled eggs", and she starts shaking all over, and then picks up her fork and starts stabbing her hand with it saying it was "full of spiders!" Well I made myself scarce quick-as. She's pretty, but I don't do crazy girls. Well, maybe that one time, but not as a matter of course. We'll be at Phobius IV soon, I'm really excited!"

"We landed today. In the space port on the northern continent. My poker buddies are all gone, they're in 4th squad and I'm in 9th. I wish I could go in sooner but the Commissar said us rookies need to hang back and let the older guys do the work. I don't know why. We're not crazy, but I've seen 1st squad guards trying to graft their lasguns onto their own arms. I even heard one was halfway successful, 'fore the powerpack exploded. I have to say, servo-skull, that I came into this thinking the wrong thing, y'know? The ship here showed me that we're different from your normal IG regiment... none of the guys at training tried to swallow themselves whole or bash the windows saying "Someone help, the sun's coming to get me!" Maybe some of them are a bit crazy. But I'm not. Especially not with my special hat."

"I saw my first Ork today. Mountain of green, he was. Like a giant muscle with a face. Scared the crap out of me, it did. So me and 9th squad are sitting waiting for the order to go, right? but suddenly there's greenskins everywhere, like they'd just come out of nowhere. We shot them, stabbed 'em and they vanished, into smoke!

That was the scout's hallucination of them hitting our camp taken form. Then the orks he saw actually hit our camp.

One of 'em, he must of been what, ten, eleven foot tall? Gets the drop on me, raises some giant bloody axe, then I hear Carofelaferrocus, even through my tinfoil hat, he says "LET ME OUT YOU DAMNED FOOL, I AM THE HAMMER ON WHICH WORLDS WERE FORGED, I AM THE NIGHTMARE THAT FOLDS THE DEAD INTO SWORD AND FIRE, I AM THE HOLE IN YOUR FACE THAT'S FILLING WITH THE TEARS OF YOUR ENEMIES, I AM TH-

• A short crackle, and the vox-recorder is reset*.

"I'm... not sure what happened there, servo-skull. Kind of went blank for a minute. Anyways, this voice says to let him handle it, and I do. then for a minute I'm seeing things like I'm behind my own eyes, and all this lightning's coming from my hands, cooking the greenskin like a spit pig. Frightened me something awful, I had to change my uniform right after, I did. But we won the day, and the Commissar said only five percent of my squad exploded, and we saved the camp, so we get double amasec tonight!"

---

They have me loading the ammunition. It's scarier than you might think, though. Picking up those shells with your brain, positioning them in the main guns, and closing the hatch sounds simple and easy. It's not.

We lost 4 last week. Not to enemy fire, we're in pretty good cover. They just turned inside out, or their brain melted out of their skull. The gun goes quiet for a minute, then the commissar is there, putting round after round into your dead buddy's skull so's he don't get possessed.

Each time I lift a shell, I think; it could be me next time. Does it hurt? Am I dead before I feel it? But they tell us that the Emperor saves our souls. That we need to keep doing our part. So I load the guns. For the Emperor.

---

Journal of an unnamed heavy weapons guardsman:

Last week I received my qualification for duty with the heavy weapon teams. Funny how in other regiments those with psychic ability are given almost lavished treatment, but in ours, its like having two working eyes; not that impressive nor uncommon.

Nevertheless, I was posted with 6th Platoon's Heavy Weapon squad. We've been fighting the orks for two weeks now, I don't think I've ever been so scared. Just yesterday, one of their Psykers, some howling mad xeno clad in rags clinging to a staff tipped with the skull of a helmeted eldar, eyes still glowing, rushed our trench. His brain went out in an explosion of lightning which upon contact with a number of the men fighting, caused several cranial explosions, the likes of which I had never seen.

Hell, this morning Henrik, my loading assistant, took a round to the shoulder. As he lay down to wait for the medic, his eyes rolled back and off came his fucking arms. HIS ARMS EXPLODED IN A SHOWER OF FUCKING LIGHTNING. By the Emperor's Holy Trousers, I can't take much more of this.

With Lance, Freddy and Bogart dead, the squad has been reduced to 3 men, myself included. Henrik's arm-matter royally clogged up the bolter's internals (and ruined my uniform) so I've been posted to the missile launcher.

If I thought the bolter was bad, I hadn't seen shit. Since crews are always in pairs and manning a weapon by yourself is madness, the three of us were set to manning the missile launcher. I would find targets, Todd would man the gun and Theo would load it. Two days ago, one of the Ork leaders, a 'Nob' in their xeno-tongue, came within shouting distance of our foxhole. He bellowed out for the strongest of us to challenge him in close combat. A good third of the platoon got up from cover to fight him, but the Commissar stopped them from rushing.

Theo was overcome however. Grabbing one of the frankly MASSIVE missiles, he took it upon himself to charge the savage. This alien towered over him, one of his arms replaced with a crude powerfist, the other carrying a massive chainaxe. Theo wasn't deterred and prepared to ram the missile right at the monster. The commissar shot him as he ran, but if anything, that only propelled him at the beast at a faster rate. Lifting the ordnance above his head, he prepared to duel the ork.

The combined explosion of missile and warp-charged mind was something I'd rather never witness again. And if the Orks hadn't thought of ramming missiles as melee weapons to blow things up, they sure as warp will now.

---

So, I'm in the Imperator Titan crew. I'm not even up in the Princeps station, but we all have an important job to do. In addition to making sure the machine spirits are all at their best (hard given that the crew here are all psykers), when the call comes in, we lend our strength to the Princeps.

But I tell you, when you lay an Imperator-sized Smite across those Xenos, it's all worthwhile.

---

Commanding Officers Log:

I've died and gone to a special sort of Hell. There can be no other explanation. Everything since - the crashing ship, the reinforcements, the official regimental commission - it's all just a series of elaborate torments designed to punish me, though Emperor only knows what I did in my life to deserve it.

The Departmento Munitorum botched our order. Three thousand tactical helmets, I asked them for, and they send me three thousand helmets of neatly twisted tinfoil. Three thousand chemical warfare suits turned into three thousand chemist's outfits sewn out of mesh. At least they got the weapons right, though I'm damned if I can get the men to pull so much as a bloody knife. No, at the first sign of combat, they all start shooting mind bullets, or else exploding into piles of goop and ruining each other's uniforms.

At least they've figured out trenching shovels.

My adjutant, Brian Consumptington, is settling in well. As well as can be expected, at any rate. I don't know what backwater-ass planet they pulled him from, but he's never seen a vox caster before. Insists he's hearing voices. I tried to explain it to him, but he just shouted "LALALA CAN'T HEAR YOU!" and pulled his helmet over his ears.

They're sending us to some Mechanicus shithole by the name of Phobius IV. Ork invasion, they said. Looters and Mechaniks, they said. Be prepared for unusual and blasphemous applications of technology, they said. I never thought Orks would seem like a pillar of sanity in this cursed galaxy.

That nutter Hera just walked past my door and screamed at me. "SANITY IS FOR THE WEAK," she screamed. I'm getting stronger every day.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse...

Herlitz has become convinced that he is a horse, and has requested to take the vanguard in the Membranes' rough rider platoon. I told him we didn't have a rough rider platoon. He just said, "Yet." and trotted off. I didn't think humans could trot, but Herlitz gave it the old Schola try. I'm almost tempted to have Hera ride him into battle. She's just mad enough to try it, and light enough that she won't snap Herlitz's back.

The Orks don't seem to know quite what to do with us. If they run headlong at us, screaming their warcries, the men have a habit of erupting into tentacles and boils and boiling tentacles and... whatever it was ninth squad's sergeant turned into. I never knew you could fit that many mouths on a creature. So they tried shelling us, but Herlitz has better aim trying to use the latrine on four legs than the Gretchin have firing a field piece. I would call it a small mercy, but when things start going well I start wondering when the other shoe will drop.

One of the xenos leaders was some kind of witch. There he was, on the far side of no man's land, shouting something about squiggly beasts and beating us into paste. There was a flash, and the next thing I knew he was right in the middle of Fifth Platoon, shooting lightning from his eyeballs and turning my boys into little walking mouths. I thought they were goners, but I'll be damned if Hera didn't ride up on Herlitz's back holding his hitching post like a lance. I can't really say they "charged," per se, but Hera gave the witch a smack in the head with the hitching post and it just... popped like a frost melon from the cafeteria back at Schola. I'm requisitioning some horse apples from the Munitorum. I'd say Herlitz has earned at least that much.

Bloody Xymar won't answer my question. All I wanted to know is if he liked corn. Only I've got six ears of it up here in the command chair and I thought I'd share. I thought he was one of the normal ones, but he's been narrating his life like some kind of damn story for the last fifteen minutes. As though an author would waste ink on our miserable little circus.

---

Taros Campaign:

Day 27 in the Taros Campaign.

The filthy Xenos are putting up a real fight. And it didn't help that 7th and 9th squads both combusted the other day. Not daemons mind you, just fire. Still not terrific for morale though.

One of our Imperators shot down a Manta, so at least their that -even if it was accidental ad midst a Daemon incursion on board that was maiming the shit out of the Princeps (we still need a new one)-

Today I fried my first Crisis Suit, so at least there's that. But while I was frying it I heard a voice tell me to get Joe next who was standing nearby. I managed not to but I must say that voice was very persuasive... And Joe is an ass, I'm sure... no one will miss him.

Day 30 in the Taros Campaign, diary of Joe Joeington.

So compared to how the campaign started, the last 3 days have been relatively relaxing. We made a break through and our Imperator is up and running again (some Admech goon screamed at us about stealing 4 titans and defiling the Machine God's work, but Tobias turned him inside out).

I have killed 3 Crisis Suits so far and 23 Fire warriors and everything seems to be going my way... Except Hugh... Ever since he killed his first crisis suit a few days back he's started talking to himself and staring at me. Real thousand yard stare too, really creepy. I think I ought to watch my back...

Day 36 Whelp. Hugh snapped, came at me in the middle of the night totally on fire (not sure if he combusted or he did it to himself). His right arm was slightly daemonic looking and he screamed "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU JOE!"

Put a lighting blast in his face and melted it. Very unpleasant. James sat in the corner giggling and it caused me to laugh too. I don't think it was very funny but I was laughing anyway.

Commissar Tiberus came by the other day, looked at Hugh's corpses. "Possession" James said suppressing a giggle. Tiberus BLAMED him with mind-bullets. I guess there was someone about James that put him off.

That's it for today though, orders to move are coming down.

Turns out these Crisis suits are piloted by genuine blue-skinned Tau, same as the Infantry. A few other guys were talking about them being controlled by the xenos' machine spirits, like the drones. Come to think of it, I've only seen a few of the xenos go into battle without some face-covering mask or helmet on. They all have some slit in their foreheads, no nose, but otherwise don't look too different from us. Disgusting, though.

I'm one of the few non-psykers in the ground pounders. Most of the uncursed are our officers and commissars. Sometimes I wish I shared in their condition, so I could understand these people better. Andares was part of 8th squad, which formed with us in the 11th due to casualties on both of us. Damn xenos. I told Janos to get down but he said he could "see" that the missile was going to miss. Decided to stand up and be a hero. Sure was a hero all right. Anyway, Andares joined with us. We were on patrol duty the other night and we found a small group of Tau sneaking around a dune, maybe half a klik from base.

He and I decide to go pay them a little fire & lightning surprise. I shot a frag in the air with my launcher and Andares made it glow like a sun-sized lho bulb. Then it exploded. I was pretty proud of myself for getting that first shot to land in the midst of about half a dozen of the blue sods.

Turns out one of them lived. I let Andares check him out. Big mistake, I think. As the xeno lay dying and choking on his blood (also blue, kind of purple. Hideous as they are, I'd rather look at a Tau than any other xeno.), Andares gets this brilliant idea to try and read its mind. So he sticks his fingers right inside that slit in the thing's forehead and does it. He stops, and he's silent. Staring at the thing's wounds. I took out my laspistol and gave it the Emperor's mercy.

We get started back to base, and I ask him what he saw in the blueberry's head, but Andares just kind of wildly glanced at me, then sunk his gaze down. Left it to me to look around for any more enemies, sodding jerk. Eventually we trade off our duties to the next shift and go to get some shut eye. Andares scribbles in his journal for a good half-hour. Still wouldn't talk to me. He had some of the blue xeno blood on his uniform, and smeared it over a page or two. I shrugged and nodded off.

Next morning I try to get to his journal to see what he wrote. His case was locked, so I got Hugh to magic it open for me in exchange for a lho stick and half my drinking rations. I don't blame him for being thirsty out in this desert, but I have no idea why he wanted the stick.

So I thumb through the journal. Andares kept regular accounts, usually writing something in there every day, but I skimmed through those. A man's gotta have some privacy in his thoughts, even if he won't give the same privilege to the xenos.. I get to where he was writing yesterday, and there's eight pages of just babbling nonsense. Drawings, mostly. All these circles and cylinders, criss-crossing over each other and running concentric. There were some attempts to draw the symbol the Tau wear on their suits and pauldrons, the kind of 'T' shape in a circle. A few others like it too; other Tau insignia, maybe. I don't know. There were some hourglass-shapes and infinity signs, some heavily crossed out like Andares just drew them so poorly he had to remove their existence from the book, but couldn't do that right either. How do you fail to draw an infinity sign?

Weird thing though when I got to the last two pages. Nearly called the commissar right then and there. He cut off his little fingers. Both of his little fingers were there, taped on, bent in some weird angled, 'X'-like pattern. On the next page, the eighth, the Tau's dried and rather bad-smelling blood was smeared over the page in blotches. I tried to make sense of it but gave up after all I could see were screaming faces and monsters. Must be the desert getting to me. Damn Hugh, I wanted that water.

I know they were his because his hands were taped when I spied him coming back to the barracks. I hurriedly put the book back, shut the container, and walked out to say hi. I don't think he noticed, although the case was certainly unlocked. Another weird thing about him is he kept Regencio, our squad leader, told me he had been mumbling about the number eight all day. Scratched the numbers up to eight into both sides of his lasgun.

I ask around for more info. Over the next two days, I find out he ordered five extra lasgun charge packs from on-base storage, took two off one of the wounded guys the biomancers were trying to fix up (poor Logan. Needs a new set of legs, but at least he lived), and he stole one from me. He stole it right out of my lasgun while we were doing squad maneuvers day before last. Regencio looked at me and chewed me out for "not maintaining proper care of my weapon." I quickly jammed another pack in and when I looked for the one I dropped in the sand, it was gone. I think Andares found out I read his journal.

All this number eight business was really bugging me, so I went to the commissar that night. He thanked me for the information and told me not to worry about it. We get woken up by the commissar and his bodyguards yesterday night (graciously waking me up from a nightmare of swords and blood). They take Andares's case and drag him out of bed, then over to somewhere else on base. Tired, confused, babbling about swords and blood. Looking back on it, I should've known I was getting that dream from him.

Well, this afternoon, after 11th squad came back from an unexciting patrol, we find the base is frantic with activity. Only a hundred of us there, if that, but it seemed like the aliens had brought the fight to us. Our squad rushes inside, or nearly inside, when crashing out of the main gate comes the broken body of the commissar. Sword still in his hand, miraculously. Following after him is Andares, floating a little over the ground, blood dripping from his hands, feet, off his body...like he was sweating it. Lasgun in one hand, other hand spewing lightning. I'd seen half the guys I've been with do similar things, but not the dripping blood trick. Regencio gives the order to open fire, and we do. I couldn't aim the grenade launcher as well this time, but with lightning and firepower our squad bring him down.

Now I'm in the Company Commander's personal Chimera, and I'm being asked how much I care for corn. Thank the Emperor I'm not a psyker.

---

10th squad is jokingly known as 'the berserkers'. We're all biomancers, but we focus on making ourselves stronger more than shooting lightning at our foes. One time, Matt, the guy you replaced, got a crazy idea. We could become an air squad. He had figured out how to grow wings, and started divebombing the Orks we were fighting at the time. Thing was, his wings got covered in what passed for blood, and then he started yelling something about being Sanguinius reborn.

Then his head exploded. Not from a misfire, but from the commissar's bolt pistol. Since then, we've stayed on the ground.

So one time, me and some of the other guys in 10th decided to just hit the guys with some good old-fashioned lightning. So there we are, in the trenches, getting ready to fire when Chaz says 'hold on guys!' Next thing I know I'm in the middle of a Tau artillery line, and they looked as surprised as I was. We took out about 5 of the broadsides, then just started punching our way back through the fire warriors and kroot. That's when we got the nickname berserkers, cause everyone one of us, covered in our own blood and that of the Tau, proceeded to beat the shit out of Chaz.

One day later, after healing himself, we were all laughing about it, if the laughter was a bit hysterical.

So that's why we're called the berserkers.

---

Everyone in my squad used to down on me. When they learned I was just a Psi level psyker, they all laughed. Called me weak.

That was before they started dying. One by one, they'd cry out suddenly as blood rushed out of their nose. During combat, during chow, Laurence even kicked the bucket while apparently using his psychic powers to aim his dick while pissing.

But now, they envy me. Sure, I can't flip a Leman Russ over with my mind, but I'm probably gonna outlive them. Maybe for a few days, anyway, if the Heretics keep up this shelling...

---

It was three days after commencing the Siege of Cabalot that the 13th Squad spearheaded through their lines. What we thought was just a planetary uprising turned out to be a Genestealer cult in full force. Half the rebels were Emperor-forsaken hybrids by this point.

The commander wanted to continue orbital bombardment, but Sgt. Revok said he...heard some advice about a weak point in the wall, and before anyone could say otherwise, the Sarge's entire squad was sprinting as fast as a landspeeder and crashed through the wall.

We lost sight of them for a few minutes, but the sounds told us they found the enemy. Screams, explosions, lightning. I swear to the Throne I saw a tiny raincloud form out of the clear sky and rain buckets of blood on the city.

And then ten minutes later, the main gate to the city drops open and our mechanized divisions roll in. Sgt. Revok was waiting for us, fitting his helmet back on his head and trying to wipe the blood off his uniform. The commander asked him what happened to his squad. Sarge just shook his head and said the Emperor's Mercy had finally found them.

Nobody ever "wants" to get assigned to 13th Squad. They say its the closest thing we've got to a penal unit. Sure its one of the most decorated units in the regiment famed for cracking the toughest defenses, but all those medals keep going to the sole surviving member of the squad. Sgt. Revok.

Revok's a damn good telepath, but there's...rumors about why he's the only one to come out of his squad. Some say he's just that good. Others that he gets his own squad fragged when he starts reading their minds. And some people say its because he's got a "friend" that talks to him, warning him about trouble and giving him a leg up in exchange for some kind of favor.

That's probably just crazy talk, but then again, troopers that talk about that too loudly have a tendency of getting promoted to 13th Squad whenever they need replacements...

---

I was proud of myself. Assigned to the 3rd Shock Trooper Assault Squad, this fresh out of training! My psychic abilities aided me to predict enemy movements, and the chain sword and laspistol were like extensions of my arms. I was ready to bring death directly to the xenos.

What I wasn't prepared for was how literally we are expected to take our name. The first day of training together, they led us to a shooting range, of sorts. Judging by how scorched the targets were, my first assumption was that we'd be familiarizing ourselves with the flamer. Then the order was barked: LIGHTNING, BOYS! ON MY MARK!

We'd all tried it before. Who hasn't, if they have sufficient power? We drilled over and over, blasting the targets to smithereens. I thought I was deadly before. Ha! We are the Emperor's Wrath itself, now! The Shock Trooper Assault corps!

---

In twenty-eight minutes, I will be drinking amasec.

Four minutes ago one of my charges suffered an incursion. He repelled it. He won't make it through the year.

Three minutes from now I'll be done with the paperwork sending him to the front lines.

A month ago we made landing, the energy crackling around our hull putting the storms to shame.

Ten minutes from now there will be a fight over a card game gone bad.

A week ago it started raining. It will not stop until this planet's summer begins, seventeen days from now.

Eleven minutes from now I will arrive, along with the Wardens for 3rd, 16th, and 8th company and the Primaris. We will join in the Unity and with its power force the daemon back into the Warp.

Five minutes from now I will be searching for a bottle; it will take me two minutes to find it.

A year ago I was chained to a post and slowly losing my mind.

Eight minutes from now I will be pouring a glass.

Twenty-five minutes from now I will be covered in psychic frost and blood and the bits and pieces of what was once one of my charges.

Twenty-eight minutes from now I will be drinking amasec.

It will be fantastic.

---

Extract from personal log of Commissar Haught, Assistant Regimental Commisar, 1st Membranes:

I think I’ll miss Varley the most. Sweet little thing, barely 17 when she was snatched for the black ship, horrible guardsman when it came to the practicalities of soldiering, but for the most part, she gave me less cause for concern than the others because her “gifts” were somewhat less violent and frenetic.

The worst we’d seen from her was the ability to shorten and recolour someone’s hair with a gaze.

It was for these reasons that I told her company commander that I would be using her as my batman for fetching and carrying. Captain Pauls said it was fine as his thighs were already sandwiches and he didn’t need any more mustard.

I shot him. No mustard was to be found.

A lot of commissars ridicule peers who make use of personal aides - Cain did it all the time and he never got any flak for it; just so many medals Munitorium had to create the Greatcoat (Commissar), No.5, Cain Pattern in order to pin them to his chest without his spine collapsing (y’know the “Cain’s Cape” or “gong scaffold”, that wardrobe disaster).

Well, I needed Varley, for the simple fact I needed help carrying all the extra bolter rounds required to cull the more freakish freaks of this regiment, before they go nova and turn everyone around them into piles of shivering giblets or some kind of sentient shampoo.

It’s hard to execute shampoo and it un-commissarial to be lugging around crates of ammo, no matter how much they tell you at the Schola to “lead by example”.

Emperor knows, the only way I’d be able to “lead by example” here is to turn inside out and shout encouragement from my arsehole. That’s what happened to Colour Sergeant Swaggart of No. 7 Company, before I blew off what certainly wasn’t his head but was definitely doing the talking.

Same thing happened to his successor, Color Sergeant Quynn. I think there’s something wrong with the company’s standard - any of these brain boxes that hold onto it for long turns into a mess of organs and an inside-out talking anus.

Who knew buttocks would create such a lisp? Who knew someone would ever be writing that down?!

Emperor help me.

Didn’t have to worry about any of that with Trooper Varley, she was sweet, obedient, kept my hair neat and hid all my greys (no small feat given how exposure to these madmen has aged me), although truth (and training) be told, I should have shot her months before she, well, the incident.

We were part of a task force, sent to the pleasure world of Gazuma, the latest in a long list of short notice deployments to the worst possible hell holes in the galaxy - I really think the Administratum is trying to get rid of us.

It was beautiful once, a small tropical beach planet, for titans of industry to hobnob. Unsurprisingly, it became a hotbed for Slaneeshi perversions. It’s one rule for the rich and another one for everyone else.

Suffice it to say, the more lucid and coherent members of the regiment enjoyed slaughtering these heretical perverts to no end. None of these fiends would have ever been black shipped or had to send their children off to suffer that fate, er, I mean HONOUR, for it is an HONOUR to give one’s life to the Emperor in any capacity.

(Get out of my head Willis, I know you’re in here. Varley bringing me shells or not, so help me, I will blam you).

Regardless, everyone got a bit kill happy, exploding leather clad cultists with mind bullets and brain lightning and turning into horrors that made demonettes quiver (hopefully with fear, though I very much doubt it).

I think in that first week I executed more guardsmen than I shall ever kill enemies of man, and wee Varley was there, smiling up at me the entire time as she handed me clip, after clip, after clip, complimenting me on my aim.

It’s hard to know where to shoot if the target’s head has morphed into a tuba with wings.

Anyway, the regiment got so kill happy that our efforts attracted the attention of a roaming Khornite warband, who made planetfall on the 10th day.

It really became a shit show. A three way slugging match between a horde of blade wielding savages, a bunch of wealthy freaks who wanted to have sex with everything, and us, holding the line against the horrors of chaos…and Lance Corporal Devereaux whenever he turned into that “thing”.

For a two-storey dog-rabbit, he certainly was nimble - nimble enough to dodge my shots as well as anything trying to have sex with him. There was an awful amount of puss that leaked from him that we found out later held a strong electrical charge.

Varley said she could hear the puss talking but all it would say was “I’M THE SLAGMAN, DO YOU THINK YOU COULD LOVE ME? GIMME YOUR KNEES”.

I know people are scared of the warp, but I’m not sure they know why they should be scared. I know. It wants love and knees.

It was the 15th day, a Thursday, and Devereaux’s antics had enticed a large horde of the perverts and Khornists to my section of the line.

At the time, I was embedded with No. 2 Company, “The Splattersouls” to the rest of the regiment, and I had just sent Varley back to the QM to grab more bolter rounds. Things were looking hairy enough that I’d have to kill the demons of chaos and the men and women of a company whose specialty seemed to be turning foes (and themselves) into country style gravy - which also held an electric charge.

Emperor’s truth.

Poor Devereaux. I’m not sure what happened, but he turned back into something more normal just as he was overrun by platoon sized group of Slaneeshi weirdos armed with fearsome looking vibrators. I was able to put him out of his misery before he was literally fucked to pieces, but somehow didn’t notice the Khorne Dreadnought bearing down on us.

It got in amongst 14th Squad, making a terrible mess, although it’s fair to say 14th Squad we’re doing as much damage to themselves as the Dreadnought did. So much electric sauce.

It was just Corporal “Jokaero” Jones (nicknamed so because he’d somehow managed to give himself the arms of an ape and had been stuck with them for 6 months) and myself left in a hole with the Dreadnought bearing down on us.

As I loaded my last clip, both equal parts fearing death and grateful for it for freeing me from this daily nightmare of watching over these human time bombs, I saw Varley floating about a foot above the ground slowing moving toward us.

Shells and bullets seemed to veer away from her as she advanced, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, as she slowly chanted something.

My eyes were glued to her, I was transfixed, trying to read her lips. It was one word, over and over again, and as she got closer, my heart froze as I worked it out:

“Khorne. Khorne. Khorne”.

She had turned. I raised my bolt pistol, just in time to see her eyes glow yellow, her chest swell with a huge breath before she emitted an ear splitting screech that drowned out the deafening din of battle.

“FOR KHOOOOOOORNE!”

She threw her hands towards the Dreadnought, and thick streams of green and yellow projectiles shot from her fingers, battering the cursed machine, causing it to stumble. Several of the projectiles bounced off its armor and landed in my lap. Jones dived for cover, but there was no need.

I now understood what Varley was chanting. The item that had fallen into my lap was an ear of corn. It smelled fresh.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOORN!” Varley screamed again, and the torrent of maize continued to bombard the Dreadnought, until each gun barrel and exhaust pipe was jammed with ears of corn.

The evil machine staggered, seemed to swell, and exploded in a cacophony of pops and crackles, showering the line with popcorn.

Whoops, cheers and the odd puddle of chunky electric gravy erupted from the lines. Varley was a hero. I was immensely proud of her, so proud that I resisted the urge to shoot her.

She became an overnight sensation with the rest of the task force, now seemingly able to produce fresh corn whenever she felt like it.

I had her posted to the HQ Company’s cookhouse, where she produced crates of the stuff. The regiment used it to make several years worth of cornbread, corn salsa and tortillas and what they didn’t feed us they bartered with other regiments in the task force.

I saw little of her after that, but always thought of the battalion’s new mascot every time I bit into a roll of cornbread.

It sadly wouldn’t last though. A couple of months later the regiment was assigned to ork cleansing duty, posted to some Agriworld, Jaliphy, known sector wide for its grains.

Apparently it was all too much for poor Varley. The second she stepped off the Valkyrie into a corn field, she started panicking, screaming the word “corn” over and over again.

For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the sight of a 19 year old girl, in full battledress, complete with lasgun, turning into a 5ft ear of corn with the sound of a champagne cork popping, before toppling over with tiny little feet flailing about.

My first 5 shots didn’t kill her, and the striking of each round was made even worse by the crackling of giant kernels as the shells exploded into her.

I also felt it was somewhat undignified that the MO ordered that her “corpse” be burned on a pyre with ork bodies, with predictable results. Every time I close my eyes I hear the popping.

Still, the regiment didn’t lose its appetite for corn.

That was 2 years ago now. We’re fighting the Tau and most of the corn is gone. I heard a rumor that the OC of No. 5 Company still has a few ears left. I should investigate, and see if he can spare anyone who can lug around my extra bolter shells, along with a couple of ears to roast over a fire that Signaller Gort is convinced she can light if she hates the kindling just the right amount.

Yes, I’ll certainly miss Varley the most.

Supplement for Codex: Astra Militarum; 1st Membranes Regiment

The following is a supplement intended for use in conjunction with the latest version of Codex: Astra Militarum (or Imperial Guard), using much of same unit entries, army lists and points costs as such.

Special Rules

• Sanity is for the Weak- All units in a 1st Membranes Detachment count as having Insane Heroism! for any doubles rolled for Morale checks. However, all units in this Detachment also rolls 3D6 when testing for receiving orders, taking the highest two dice.

• Psychic Regiment- A unit with this rule has the Psychic Brotherhood (Mastery Level 1) rule and may take its powers from any of the Psychic Disciplines. If it takes powers solely from Biomancy, it may roll an additional power on the Biomancy Discipline table, representing the regiment's specialization in biomancy powers. A unit with this rule also suffers from the Not This Again! and Psychic Instability special rules as detailed below.
  • Psychic Instability- The rank and file of the 1st Membranes are not fully trained psykers, and such suffer from incomplete training. Any rolls of doubles when testing for Psychic powers will cause a Perils result.
  • Not This Again!- When a unit with this rule suffers a perils, any 1st Membranes Character within 6" immediately removes D3 models in the periling unit closest to it and no roll is made on the Perils table. If no such models are within 6" then, in addition to the Perils roll, remove D6 models from the unit and replace them with an equal number of Daemonhosts within 6" of the unit (at least 1" away). The Daemonhosts are neutral and are not counted as part of either army and must always move, run and assault towards the closest non-neutral unit in the opposing player's turn (after all enemy units have made their moves).

• Psychic Brotherhood and Combined Squads- When multiple infantry units combine into a single unit, the resulting combined unit counts as Psychic Brotherhood Mastery Level X, with X being the number of Infantry units combined and generates powers normally post-combination.

Warlord Traits

A Warlord from this Detachment may select his Warlord traits from any of the rulebook Warlord Trait tables, the Warlord Trait table from Codex: Astra Militarum, or from the unique list below:

1.Precise Executioner- The Warlord may execute within 12" of a periling unit with Not This Again! and only ever executes a single model

2.Warp-Tested Leader- The Warlord and the unit he is has the Adamantium Will special rule

3.Wyrd Commander- The Warlord gains the Psyker (Mastery Level 1) special rule, but can only take a single Primaris power

4.Blustering Orator- Orders received from a model with this Warlord Trait are tested for on a normal 2D6 instead of 3D6 for Sanity is for the Weak.

5.Urban Siege Master- Units within 6" of the Warlord roll an additional D3 for armor penetration and have the Move Through Cover (Ruins) special rule

6.Auspicious Diviner- The Warlord has a 4+ Invulnerable save

Army List and Allies

A 1st Membranes Detachment uses the same army list found in Codex: Astra Militarum with a few a key differences. A 1st Membrane Detachment cannot use any of the unique characters listed in Codex: Astra Militarum and may not include Wyrdvane Psykers. The 1st Membranes Regiment allies in the exact same way as the Astra Militarum faction with the following exceptions: Adeptus Mechanicus, Skitarii and Black Templar are all Desperate Allies (the former due to stolen Imperator Titans and the latter due to witch hate).

The following units cost an additional points amount and have the Psychic Regiment special rule. Note that Characters within these units do not benefit nor gain the Psychic Regiment rule and thus do not have Psychic Brotherhood.

• Company command squads: +25pts
• Platoon command squads: +25pts
• Infantry squad: +30pts
• Heavy weapons teams: +25pts
• Special weapons teams: +25pts
• Conscript squads: +30pts per 10 conscripts
• Veteran squad: +30pts
• Any Artillery unit: +25pts

Unique Wargear

All Infantry or Artillery units in a 1st Membranes Detachment may purchase any of the following upgrades

• Foiled Tinsteel Helmet - 15pts: This simple device prevents the majority of the whispers and horrors coming in from the Warp, guaranteed! A unit equipped with Foiled Tinsteel Helmets gains a +1 bonus to deny the witch rolls
• Entrenching Tools - 20pts: Besides their psychic potential, the 1st Membranes are highly skilled in urban and siege warfare. When a unit equipped with this goes to ground, it has a +1 bonus to its cover save
• Pre-sense Goggles - 10pts: A unit equipped with these gains the Night Vision and Acute Senses special rules
• Beginner Psykers' Guide To Casting - 15pts: A unit equipped with this may re-roll a single D6 when making a Psychic test to cast one power per friendly Psychic Phase
• Basic Psykana Training - 10pts: A unit with this upgrade only perils on double rolls of 1's or 6's instead of all doubles from Psychic Instability
• Advanced Pskyana Veterans - 15pts: A unit with this upgrade is not affected by Psychic Instability

1st Membranes Heirlooms of Conquest

Any HQ choice with access to Heirlooms of Conquest may take items from the Heirlooms of Conquest from Codex: Astra Militarum, or the list found here

• Ghost-whisper Vox - 10pts: Orders issued from a commander equipped with this automatically pass if issued to a 1st Membranes unit equipped with a vox-caster
• The Sorting Helmet - 10pts: Select a single unit before psychic powers are generated. That unit may choose a single power instead of generating it randomly
• Paradoxical Melta Bomb - 10pts: This is a Melta bomb without the One Use Only special rule
• Primarch's Tarot Card - 15pts: An army that includes a model with this may re-roll the dice to Seize the Initiative and may bring in a single unit from reserves automatically
• Bound Sigil - 30pts: A unit that include a model equipped with this generates an additional D3 Warp Charges each Psychic phase. However, whenever the unit suffers Perils, it counts as not having a character within 6" to execute a model, rolling the D6 to lose Guardsmen/generate Daemonhosts.
• Advanced Psyker's Manual to Casting - 35pts: A unit that includes a model with this may re-roll up to two dice when testing to activate any psychic power(s) in a friendly Psychic phase.

Unique Characters/Units

Daemonhosts - N/A

Daemonhosts are generated through the Not This Again! special rule

Name	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Sv
Daemonhost	4	-	4	4	1	3	*	8	-

Unit Composition: 1+ Daemonhosts

Unit Type: Infantry

Wargear: Close combat weapon

Special Rules: Daemon

• Frantic Rage: At the beginning of each Assault Phase in which a Daemonhost is in close combat, roll a D6, the amount rolled is the number of Attacks the Daemonhost has that round of combat

Note: For modeling purposes you may use an actual Daemonhost model or any generic Daemon model (Bloodletter, Pink Horror, etc.)

Sergeant Revok - 25pts

Sergeant Revok is an upgrade to a single Veteran Sergeant in your army

Name	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Sv
Sgt. Revok	4	4	3	3	2	3	2	9	5+

Unit Composition: Unique

Unit Type: Infantry (Character)

Wargear: Flak armor, force sword, laspistol, frag grenades, krak grenades, melta bombs

Psyker: Revok generates his powers from the Divination or Telepathy Psychic Disciplines

Special Rules: Psyker (Mastery Level 1), Stubborn

• Suspicious Fate- Look out Sir! rolls for Sergeant Revok are automatically passed. In addition, a single model from his unit may be removed as a casualty per Phase in order to re-roll a single D6.

Commissar Tiberius, the Bilious Leader - 85pts

Commissar Tiberius is a HQ choice for your army

Name	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Sv
Cmsr Tiberius	5	5	3	3	3	3	3	10	4+

Unit Composition: Unique

Unit Type: Infantry (Character)

Wargear: Carapace armor, force sword, bolt pistol, frag grenades, krak grenades, refractor field

Psyker: Revok generates his powers from the Telepathy Psychic Discipline

Warlord Trait: Precise Executioner

Special Rules: Psyker (Mastery Level 2), Aura of Discipline, Chain of Command, Independent Character, Stubborn

• It's For My Own Good- Whenever Commissar Tiberius suffers a Perils of the Warp, he is removed from play as he takes his bolt pistol and shoots himself
• Think Harder You Maggots- If in a unit with the Psychic Regiment special rule, that squad harnesses Warp Charges on a 3+ instead of 4+.

Biomancer Medicae - 35pts

The Biomancer Medicae is a support HQ choice for your Detachment, and does not take up any HQ slot. You may have 0-4 in your Detachment.

Name	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Sv
B. Medicae	3	4	3	3	1	3	2	8	5+

Unit Composition: Unique

Unit Type: Infantry (Character)

Wargear: Flak armor, laspistol, frag grenades

• Medic Pack- This confers the Feel No Pain special rule to the Biomancer Medicae and attached units

Psyker: The Biomancer Medicae generates powers from the Biomancy Psychic Discipline

Special Rules: Psyker (Mastery Level 1), Independent Character

• Rejuvenation: In addition to all other powers, the Biomancer Medicae knows the Rejuvenation psychic power. Rejuvenation (Warp Charge 1) is a Blessing that targets a friendly 1st Membrane unit within 6", if successful the unit immediately regains D3 wounds up to its starting amount, starting with Characters, then Heavy Weapon teams, and then other models.

Gallery

• 

  The banner of the 1st Membranes, depicting a psyker casting lightning bolts in front of a crashed Inquisitorial Black Ship and featuring a mighty brain.

• 

  An Exploding Brain trooper.

• 

  The infamous bilious leader, a psyker commissar.

• 

  Noted hero Sergeant Verok

Threads

• http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/19639982/