1st Membranes
The regiment is the 1st Emperor's Membranes, 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. The regiment is also known to have four imperator titans.
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"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 four 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 succesful, '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 frmo 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 on 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.
Neverless, 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 fox-hole. 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 power-fist, the other carrying a massive chain-axe. 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 Mechaniaks, 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 an 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 klick 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.
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...
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 emperors 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.