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