Editing Hell Harlots

The '''2478th Penal Legion''', as they are officially know, are another example of /tg/ playing around with the regiment creation rules from [[Only War]] and being blessed by the dice gods.

Recruited from a woman's prison, the 2478th is composed entirely of members of a jailhouse gang called the Imperator Dirae, a collection of blade-loving psychopaths devoted to [[The Emperor]]. Due to their fanaticism and desire to cut the enemies of the [[Imperium]], they have been trained as close-combat drop troops to be deployed right on the front lines. They are covered in tattoos, and scars and wear their clothes and hair into wild, savage styles. 

All of this has earned them the nick name '''Hell Harlots'''.

==Fluff==

Near some argiworlds is a particular Femina Claustrum. Like most Imperial prisons, strength and brutality was the day to day life of the inmates, but where other authorities tried to quell the behavior of the prisoners, the lord warden twisted the violent nature of his charges to his own whims.

Here, the warden encouraged the jailhouse gangs to heighten their grip on their fellow inmates. As long as there weren't any riots, vandalism, escape attempts or outright heresy, the bosses of the gangs were given privileges and allowed to do what they liked with the lesser prisoners. Anyone acting out of line were punished by the bosses, and their retributions were often more brutal then what most Arbites would deliver. Among what passed for "discipline" in this hell, nothing stood out more then dueling.

Blades are going to be found in any prison, no matter how hard the guards crack down on the prisoners. But in this brutal pit, they became as much of a part of life as the clothes they wore and the awful food that the rank and file had to eat.

Disputes were settled with one-on-one knife fights. Minor arguments were often won by whoever drew first blood. More serious grievances would demand mutilation and even death. If two notable inmates had a major grudge, all the prisoners would attempt to get a good seat to the fight. Even the lord warden himself would watch and even invite high-profile guests to watch the bloodsport.

Through these duels and other savage acts, one gang manged to fight and beat its way to the top: the Imperator Dirae. These violent and brutal women have dedicated themselves to the Emperor, seeing His immortal grace as the only truly good thing in this universe. Knowing full well that if it wasn't for Him, worse hells would consume them. Legend has it that a Sororitas who ended behind the prison walls founded this gang... but any scholar of the Imperium knows that would be impossible.

The motivation that made this gang fight so hard for their position in the prison pecking order was to secure one privilege and one alone: the chance to die for the Emperor.

All Imperial prisons are required to provide troops for the penal legions when demeaned. The Dirae, in their devotion, felt that they were the only collection of violent psychopaths, thieves, murderers and bandits who deserved this honor. And through blood and steel, they earned it for themselves.

When first presented with this penal legion, guard officers and the commissariat were impressed with their devotion and their savage bloodlust. It was soon decided that their fondness for blades would be best served right into the faces of the Emperor's foes.

And so it was decided that these eager killers would be trained as drop troops, so they would be delivered right to those who defy the Holy Emperor.

And so, the 2478th Penal Legion would be used as a terror weapon, each woman ready to drop from the sky to cut and maim the Emperor's enemies and to gladly give their lives in his service.

They name themselves Imperator Dirae. Those who have seen them in action call these violent women the Hell Harlots.

==Writefaggotry==

Exanimus Kell was ... satisfied. It was not something that happened often during the last few weeks, and so not something to take lightly. It must be said, until five hours ago, the Sorcerer had little reasons to be pleased: being given the task of overseeing the cultists of a second-rate Agriworld, in preparation for the arrival of the rest of the army. Inside of his once-holy power armor, now twisted by the power of Warp and dark sorcery, Examinus Kell wondered why they would even need an army. Between his might and the number of the cultists, he could crush the few Imperial Guards that stood between him and the total military domination of this world. It would be an easy conquest. And this dirty mudball will know the glory of serving s an outpost for the followers of the Changer of Ways!

But orders were orders, and the divine intellect of his master had decided he would wait.

Exanimus Kell was ... satisfied. It was not a sight many of the cultists that lurked in what once had been the Planetary Governor's Palace had already seen, and so they were warry. "Good", thought the fallen Astartes. "They will be ready for the battle", he continued his seemingly random wandering as he reviewed his troops. Meanwhile, deep underground, the dark rituals that will allow his brethren to finally arrive.

He eventually reached the front gate, only to see the sentinel that he had appointed here earlier looking up, instead of observing the ground level as instructed. His silencious steps allowed him to reach the man without being noticed, stratling the man when he shouted "Explain yourself, scum! Our gates are wide open, and you are not executing the task we gave you!". The cultist cowered, terrified, certain his last hour had come. Nevertheless, he pointed his index up, and barely managed to mutter, in the slurred speech that seemed inherent to his affiliation: "Th'r' soooom'thing hup h'r', m'loooord, Sir."

Kell, suspicious as a thousand theories started forming in his chaotic mind, looked up. Thanks to the successive gifts of the feeble Imperium and of his Everlasting Changement, the Chaos Space Marine had a better eyesight than any mortal man. And so he clearly saw, despite them flying at an incredibly high altitude above the Palace, directly under this world's sun ( a tactic Exanimus knew would have granted them concealment from any lesser being), a group of Valkiries, the standard (and, in his opinion, inferior) imperial airborn assault carier. He looked at the cultist, who was now grovelling at his feets. "How did you see them?", Kell asked. There was no anger in his, admitedly inhumane, voice. Only calculations and strategy. The cultist, relieved by the fact he has not been killed yet, eagerly said: "Saaaaw aaaa r'fl'ct, m'loord, Sir! Thoooght it waaaas impooortint!"

So it was simple luck? Ha! Still, Kell praised his Omniscient Lord for his gift. The Imperial cowards had either miscalculated their trajectory relatively to the Palace, or they were attempting something particularly stupid. The Valkiries could not manoeuvre out of the way quickly enough to avoid the artillery he had positioned on the rooftop, and any drop trooper they potentially carried had no hope to reach the ground: The grav-chutes would slow their falls so much they would become living target practice for even the least reliable of the cultists's weapons. Exanimus authorised himself a dark, deep laugh, soon followed by the one, notably less deep, of the cultist. It was the laugh of men who had looked into the abyss, and the abyss had proven to be too seductive. It was a sadistic, inhuman chuckle, more like the bark of a singularly. And yet, they were laughing. Then Exanimus heard a cry, twisted by the doppler effect of an incredible speed, and soon after a big "SPROTCH".

Exanimus Fell blinked. Then he looked at his feet, discovering a mess of flesh and blood, who had once belonged to two human beings. One was the cultist. But who was the other? "A Khornist?", Kell thought. No... What remained of its equipment was clearly imperial, even if in poorly maintened and lacking the ranged weapons these cowards usually hid themselves behind. Kell heard another cry... no, cries. Battlecries. He looked up, watching several dots falling at high speed from the Valkiries, before reaching terminal velocity as they hit the ground, the Palace, the artillery on the rooftop. Focusing his gaze, the Sorcerer could see the dots were women, covered by their unifroms and tatoos who, seemingly enraged, throwed themselves from their carriers, in their hands their weapons and on their mouths a battlecry, or perhaps the first verse of a battle hymne that no one had the chance to complete.

It was raining women.

Exanimus Kell was... disatisfied. It was just one of those days

----

//To Battle-Warden Saltvar, handler of the Penal Legion XXXth ('Hell's Harlots').\\

B.W. Saltvar,
I wish to thank you for your timely response to our distress call. Without the aid of your 'soldiers' research station 86B may have succumb to the Eldar assault. I would however express concern with how your charges handled themselves post-combat.
1. Three of XXXth legion members were caught attempting loot armor off the xenos corpses; directive Adulus 7 grants the Cult Mechanicus first rights to any Xenos artifacts.
2. The impromptu 'puppet show' involving severed Eldar heads and chainswords ruined 87% of Xenos specimen preserved for study.
3. While the Mechanicus does not frown upon contact with other Imperial factions we must insist that, "Showin' these windup boy's the night of their cog-fearin' lives" as Meri Tressk of the XXXth put it, was inappropriate contact. 44% of priests-in-training must now repeat 'trials of the flesh' due to the actions of extreme fraternization.
If you ever receive calls for aid from the Adeptus Mechanicus we insist that you keep your women on a much tighter leash to keep these incidents to a minimum.

Magos Uturm, humble servant of the Machine-God

----

"Prisoner number 3207, Step forward, and prepare thyself to receive the emperors blessing." The robed priest said, as he stood at the foot of the prison altar.
Janis stood from her kneeling position, taking a quick glance at her fellow prisoners. Covered in tattoos, dirty, and looking as expected for imperial prisoners, the women around her were still and silent. they kneeled at their assigned pews, heads down in reverence of the altar. Most of them had modified their uniforms in various ways, more often than not with images showing their faith to the emperor and calling for his protection and mercy. In most prisons, a thing like this might be frowned upon, but not here. It was important to the system.
Walking down the aisle, towards the shrine at the front of the chapel, Janis felt her heart leap, for today could be the day that she would be called into the Emperor's service. It was not often one was called forward, but recently Janis had been trying exceptionally hard to be noticed. That killing of the bitch Looush during exercise hour was probably what did it. It happened only yesterday, but the system worked fast here.
Reaching the foot of the altar, Janis once again returned to a kneeling position before the priest.
Backed by the most beautiful thing in the entire prison, a gilded imperial eagle, the priest looked down upon Janis, his face old and worn, and his expression unreadable.
"Why did you kill Prisoner #2198 in the yard yesterday?, Prisoner #3207."

Janis thought for a moment, knowing if she were to try to deceive this man, her fellow prisoners would know, and she wouldn't make it 3 steps out of the chapel.
"Because Prisoner 2198 was an enemy of the emperor, her actions had shown me. 2198's presence was intolerable." Janis spoke as she thought about the reasons that prisoner 2198, otherwise known as Looush deserved to die.
"She was put in this prison for the murder of her husband, a munitorium officer, and during her stay here, she lied, stole, killed, and did many things that were witnessed by me and other prisoners that would be considered wrong." Janis elaborated.
"Were you not put here to follow the same rules that prisoner 2198 was, prisoner 3207? Do you think you are exempt from the system? If the records here hold true, and we know they do, were you not sent here for the murder of an officer of the munitorium, much as prisoner 2198 was. Have you not done all that she had, and more while you have been here?" The priest asked Janis.
Janis looked down at the tiled floor, it was cleaner here than anywhere else. She could make excuses as to why she did what she did, killing that man so long ago because he was chasing her family out of their home to build a lot for trucks. She could say that what she did in the prison was for survivals sake, but the truth was, that was only the case at the start. After a time, being here changed who you were, it would make you into a killer, where the only place of peace, the only place of truth was the chapel. It's not that Janis enjoyed killing her fellow prisoners, but it was sometimes necessary, and feeling remorse for killing those that had failed in their service to the emperor was no longer something Janis did. She knew that the women she killed here were too weak to serve the Emperor in the only way the prisoners here still could, by killing his enemies.
"I have committed many crimes, before and after my stay here father." Janis replied bluntly.

Janis felt the cold circle of a barrel being pressed against the side of her head. She had never felt it before, but she knew it was the barrel of a laspistol, the priest carried it for exactly this reason.
"Do you accept the emperor's punishment for your crimes, and accept that your rights to life as a member of humanity have been lost to you?" The priest asked.
Janis could hear the almost silent whine of the laspistol battery. She could practically feel the tension in the man's trigger finger, he was ready to fire. She had seen him do it before.
"I accept my fate father, I have wrong mankind and it's guiding light through my actions." Janis closed her eyes, thinking of a prayer to the immortal emperor, that her soul might have a chance for redemption.
The cold circle of the barrel was removed. It was quickly replaced by the feeling of a heavy metal collar being latched around her neck.
"Go forth and kill the emperor's enemies prisoner number 3207, When the time comes, he will decide your punishment. Until that time, seek redemption, although I fear you are beyond it."
Janis had barely felt happier in her entire life. She did not know if the priest was right about her being beyond redemption, but at least she would be free to pay the debt to her soul that she had incurred in her previous life and in this prison.
"Stand, a leave through the side door." The priest pointed to the side door of the chapel, and door that only he and others who had received this great honor would leave by, and only he would return by.
For the first time in a long time, Janis stood tall, wearing the emperor's ring around her neck, showing to all the other prisoners that she had been chosen.
She left by the side door, without looking back.

----

To: Col. Jerome Mathias, 4th Augustan Regiment
From: Commissar Garrison Trinidad, 2478th Penal Legion
Subject: RE: Incident on Subharis Prime, 542997.M41

Colonel, while the incident is question was regrettable, I again must make clear that my judgements are sound and just as acting as an instrument of the divine wisdom of the Emperor, blessed be His name. But out of respect to your service, I will explain my reasoning.

Guardsman Lundahl's behavior was most unbecoming to that of a servant of the Emperor. He should know well that other loyal members of the Guard, no matter their legal status, are blessed solders of the Emperor and are to be treated as such. His advances upon Guardswoman Rein and the language he used in doing so are both deserving of corrective action. However, I felt that with what happened next, such actions would be redundant.

While Guardswoman Rein's attack was extreme, it should be noted that it has not impacted Guardsman Lundahl's ability to serve and fight (incidentally, I do hope you are still using him to do so). Considering that Rein is serving a sentence for double murder, he should consider himself fortunate. Indeed it was his status as a servant of the God Emperor that Guardswoman Rein "held back," per her words.

As for Guardswoman Rein herself, she has admitted full guilt to her actions. However, as she was defending her honor (again, despite her status as a convict), I felt that she could redeem herself in combat. I have arranged to have her take part in the next front-line jump in the very first attack wave we will engage in, if not already by the time this message reaches you. I am sure you are quite aware of the survival rates of such a position.

As for returning "what rightfully belongs to Guardsman Lundahl," I have decided that Guardswoman Rein will be allowed to keep his severed earlobe. The injury should not affect his ability as an infantryman and the scar should remind him to treat his fellow fighting men and women with more respect.

Glory to His Name
Commissar Garrison Trinidad, 2478th Penal Legion


[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Imperial]][[Category:/tg/ 40,000]]