Vol I | Chapter II

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It has been a month, and their reinforcement that was supposed to be a part of the defense of Jules; the Tallarn Desert Raider Regiment – was nowhere near inbound – as the hard and rough war carries on, all the while communications has been terrible and trouble further ensues when news of the Tallarn Desert Raider Regiment had been intercepted by Chaos Space Naval Fleet. Forced then into a lone conflict, the news and realization brought fear amongst the Planetary Defense Force ranks, as opposed to the Death Korps officers, and Kommisars who appeared unbothered by the dire state of their situation. "Fuck... we're fucked..." it was only a mutter; muttered by a young PDF officer who seemed to have only been promoted recently, and then had the responsibility to participate due to his rank. However, as the officer deflated at the terrible news, he had been unaware that his voice had been mistaken as a cowardly and poor faith in the Emperor – which called for punishment – to the Kommisar who had been in front of him who turned swiftly as he examined the officer's shock and perplexed face. "Did I hear a coward?!" "W-what?! N-no! Of course not!" The scene took the attention of everyone in the room, "Hey, what's going on here?" another PDF officer steps in to shield their junior officer from the fuming Kommisar who looked about ready to unsheathe his saw-blade. "Your men have been reeking the scent of cowards, looking for ways to escape and avoid battle!" "Look here! Even if there are cowards within our ranks, you have no authority to deliver any acts among our own!"

The standoff between the Kommisar and PDF Captain stared long and hard until the Kommisar snapped when the kid didn't learn to shut up. "Heh- No wonder you Kriegers are expendable." The sentence didn't strike the nerve, all korpsmen have already considered themselves less worth than ammunition. However, it was the sense that the officer was applying they weren't doing the God-Emperor's Will – which was their sole base purpose, and having questioned it, has just triggered all Imperial Korpsman. "Hey! Hey! Hey!" The senior PDF Captain yells as he and the others made a chain to hide the young foolish officer from the incurring wrath of the Kriegers, until without being noticed – a single gunshot rang – publicly executing the naïve officer through the head.

Shocked, horrified, and speechless, the crowd was petrified except for the Imperial Guardsmen who nonchalantly stared at the limp body on the floor – who had just been murdered without an ounce of guilt – to the Korpsman who pulled the trigger. "T-tommy?" looking from the corpse of their fellow, it all laid onto a Kommisar who still held his aim at the spot where he ended the PDF's coward and brat. "How could you do this?! He was your ally; we are your allies!" The Captain that had been defending the officer; Captain Greg spoke up demanding an explanation, but all that he received was an autonomous voice that belonged to a Kommisar that he had been acquainted with, Kommisar Kaiser.

"He portrayed a scene that could have provided negative outcome and a decrease of morale to your soldiers, and that can't be the case, Captain Greg." Kommisar Kaiser explained as he stopped faced to face with the PDF Captain. "You could have had him jailed, humiliated, or dishonorably kicked! But why chose death as punishment?!" In response in a condescending tone, the Kommisar answered as though it was obvious as he preached. "To lose faith in a war against Chaos, is the same as failing our Emperor who rest at the Golden Throne of Holy Terra." It had been short, but the statement was valid to all Imperial Worlds; including the backwater planet – Jules. Falling into a state of silence, the PDF Officers and Captains looked to the ground in shame and in grieve at the loss of their fellow, and their poor fragile faith made aware. In the midst of their mind revaluation, Kommisar Kaiser spoke once more as to warn them. "I hope that there would be no more trouble within your ranks, Captain. However, should the situation arise again. I will not hesitate to execute anyone that should, even you, Captain Greg."

The threats had been delivered, and their warnings heard, and even the Governor who has been a snob and big-headed learned from the intense gaze of their gas mask and sounding respirator – that these were men that would be best not tested.

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Within the privacy that was provided by the large makeshift tent, Kommisar Kaiser who had been sorting through files of documents of casualties and damages was interrupted by a person seeking permission for entry. Upon granted, the visitor stepped forward and in and approached the seated Kommisar until it was steps away from the Kommisar's desk that the guest gave a crisp salute.

"Watchmaster 057299-3287, reporting!" The voice introduced, identifying itself, and its ID, before gaining a salute from the Kommisar who had set the piles of documents aside as he gave the Watchmaster his undivided attention. "At ease, Watchmaster-Masha." Kommisar Kaiser dropped the formalities but held a form of title and professionalism as he conversed with an old acquaintance. "In the statistic report, it's been stated that your squadron has suffered immense casualties since during the length of our defense and that your request for Grenadiers has been duly noted." Kaiser narrates what he had read based on the report prior to the Watchmaster's coming. "However, twenty-nine dead in the time span of our 38th day since our arrival to Jules. Watchmaster-Masha, you may just be promoted after our little stop in this backwater planet." The Kommisar's praise and compliment also held a subtle hint of being impressed at the rate of survival the Watchmaster's Grenadier tend to live out in such duration. As these Grenadiers, were in no 'safe' position in terms of rank.

It is a ritual practice within Death Korps Regiment, that should a korpsman be promoted to a Grenadier, it was no honor, but simply meant that the said-guardsmen was an official dead man, after living out too long as a basic infantryman and that he is further thrust into the clutches of higher risk of death. Upon promotion, these grenadiers wore a mask different to those with the line infantry, a supposed way to clear identification, such as it applies to Watchmaster, and Quartermaster, and other affiliate rankings within the Death Korp Regiment.

"Tomorrow there will be a new batch awaiting you that has been enlisted into your squadron. Though, your Quartermaster has been killed in action, a replacement may be delayed. You are dismissed, Watchmaster-Masha." The Kommisar concluded, and at the dismissal, the Watchmaster gave a crisp salute once more, turned step, and marched out the tent.

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On the next upcoming and brutal day, the siege artillery continued to pound the enemy's advancement, but as hard as the Imperials were making it for the attackers, the attackers have been putting in their all, in terms of overwhelming numbers and scavenged weapons from other hive city armories. "Grenadier 017823-9348, Grenadier 022649-3791, reinforce the western line, and the rest of you! Move along the eastern line and cover the gaps!" Casualties have been raking throughout the day's assault, as the trenched infantrymen were dwindling by the overwhelming mob of mindless shooting cultists. However still holding firm without the reinforcement from the Tallarn Desert Raiders Regiment, the 107th Siege Artillery Death Korps Regiment continued to valiantly fight on, even as their defenses were being cut thinned and short.

At the head of the battle, at the front lines; fighting in the heart of the battle, the Watchmaster and her Grenadiers fought to defend their overran position. Not a single korpsman folded and retreated, all that were alive entered brutal close-quarter combat with their shovels or bayonets – determined on forcing the cultist to pay for the grounds taken for hundreds of them in blood. Out of the ten that were freshly promoted to Grenadiers and assigned to the Watchmaster, only a quarter remained. After being stuck in an intense prolonged melee, an order was issued that retreat has been confirmed. Though displeased to be forced to retreat than finally attain death, Kriegers were soldiers that follows orders, and though displeased, the guardsmen that could – fell back from the trenches – alongside the Watchmaster and what remained of her Grenadiers.

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"Those vermin heretics are pushing through! Hurry! Get the artillery working!" A Kommisar furiously ordered as he watched the front lines collapsed and their forces en route to the inner defenses through a binocular, as the siege artillery began its adjustments from the upper section of the hive city. "New coordinates! 024,524 – Fire!" and so a bombardment covered the retreats of the guardsmen below who prepared to make haste to man their defenses and reinforced makeshift bunkers.

As the situation at the lower parts of the hive turned into a fierce bloodied battle, all the entrances to the hive have been successful thus far – as the korpsmen and planetary defense force kept the enemy at a tight chokepoint, which proved a great strategic relief for the defenders as the chaos cultist ever seemingly endless bodies to offer on the growing pile of corpse had been detrimental. Though the narrow entries have eased the straining tension for the Imperial's diminishing forces, the enemy's numbers were still vast and immeasurable, that the Watchmaster and her Grenadiers hadn't need to aim at the masses and blob that threatened to swarm through the small chokepoint.

However, the situation wouldn't be favorable in the lasting duration as soon an unexpected sandstorm had begun to engulf the hive city – that it had caused the siege artillery to be out of commission. "Fuck!" The Kommisar in charge of the artillery battalion cursed as he and the others abandoned fixing it and traveled to the secondary defenses to help reinforce the lines at the lower hive, and brought with them every available arsenal. Yet on their way to the lines, a fight had broken out between the PDF soldiers and civilians; who had been corrupted by the whispers and influence of Chaos.

Forced to deviate in their route as substantial reinforcement, the Imperial Korpsmen took their aim without hesitance and riddled the damned civilians that had been touched by the Warp's dark influence – The standard lasguns issued to all Imperial Guardsmen were powerful enough; that it tore the limbs off from the body's socket. The people that had been labeled to be protected, and defended – ended up being their enemies. At the quick turn of the event, those that weren't tainted by the blasphemous whispers of the Chaos Gods; watched in terror as the guardsmen nonchalantly massacred their turned-friends, neighbors, and fellow citizens. The act gave such a strong demented impression, that the horrified civilians and remaining sane PDF soldiers scurried away from the korpsmen – and without a word or order, the instincts kicked in when a soldier of the Imperium runs from the battle. 'Traitors' The Kommisar and Korpsmen deduced without question, and in a moment's notice, the fleeing soldiers were struck with their back turned from the battle – dying a shameful and worthless death.

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"Argh!" A Grenadier incites a short brief grunt as he fell to the ground, groaning as he stirs until he succumbed to the injuries and fell into an idle, and silent state. In a quick motion, the Grenadier stationed just beside; observed the unmoving corpse of Grenadier 022649-3791, before he looted the guardsman's corpse of its possessions. 'Resources is survival, while our bodies are just vessels.' The Grenadier was reminded of a quote he had heard, somewhere and sometimes away, that the distant memory had just become a hazy and faded fragment. "Die heretics!" The Kommisar's loud and yelling voice fixed the Grenadier back to the current settings as he began to shoot at the advancing horde. His aim was precise and steady, the ammo; power packs, conserved and efficiently used. Busied at the moment as he shot at another chaos cultist, he overheard a conversation between the Watchmaster, and the Kommisar. "Watchmaster-Masha!" "Kommisar Kaiser, Sir!" the disciplined soldier replied, even through the loud and catastrophic surrounding. "Get what remains of your squadron, and move up to the upper sector. There have been reports of an outbreak among the civilians and PDF. Go now, immediately!" At a simple crisp salute, the Watchmaster and her Grenadiers sprint through the hive city to the upper sector.

Bloodied bodies littered the streets, pools of blood-drenched its roads, its buildings and stained its walls. Pieces of torn limbs scattered about at random, the grotesque scenery displayed a fighting had occurred in the area, and that enemies could be lurking still. Barbed wires and sandbags had been placed along the road, and all were either covered in deep shades of blood or tangled dead bodies. "P-please don't shoot-" the plead went unheard as a blast to the head ended the poor civilian's plea, while the korpsmen ran on, uncaring whether it had been a cultist or not. Through a few more obstacles in their way, all had been dealt with – an elderly couple was skewered, a mother and child executed, a PDF injured soldier shot – the Watchmaster and Grenadiers pushes on unbothered, with only their sole objective in their mind.

At the orders received prior, all units were ordered to eliminate any person twisted by the Warp – that the planet has been lost and that continuous numbers would only fold to the ranks of Chaos – thereby at their best the Imperial Guardsmen would take as many cultists as possible and cut their enormous army numbers no matter how insignificant they are able to inflict upon the pawns of the Ruinous Powers.

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Upon the squadron's arrival, the scenery depicted that it had been too late. The siege cannons were all destroyed, and if not all, the bodies of the Siege Artillery Battalion and its Kommisars were all killed. However, their death was peculiar – their bodies twisted and bent in certain ways – that it appeared there was an unknown enemy in their midst. "More toys, I see. How fortunate that my fun isn't over just yet." The introduction of the voice echoed loud, but the speaker was nowhere to be sighted, but a gruesome death stated that the said-thing was indeed in their presence as a Grenadier had his head crushed and caved in until it imploded. "I was becoming bored you see, but came you at an impeccable timing." It spoke once more, as it tore the limbs of another Grenadier, but it proved not enough as through the massive bleeding the Grenadier stumble to remain standing as he searched for the enemy – ever so prepared to fight even against the odds. Yet, the short buff of determination was swiftly ended as the sounds of his heart combusting concluded the Grenadiers life.

"Spineless Psyker!" The Watchmaster had figured out their enemy due to its usage of its ability, and upon the Watchmaster's taunt, the Psyker confidently revealed himself. "There is no need for yelling, I heard enough already-" At once, the last two Grenadiers and the Watchmaster herself opened fire almost immediately as they took their aim. However, as fearing as being in a Psyker's presence were, the Korpsmen never faltered nor flinch. But their weaponry has been deemed useless as the Psyker easily evaded their attacks, all the while laughing as he held a shit-grinning smirk. "Come at me like you mean it." Without further invitation, the Grenadiers with fixed bayonets charged the Psyker and began their attempts of slicing and stabbing only to fail. Yet due to the brief entertainment, the Psyker was taking pleasure in with toying with the Grenadiers, the brief moment of distraction had been sufficient when the Watchmaster buried a shovel unto the Psyker's undefended back. Groaning in agony, the Psyker immediately returned wrathful as he forced a Grenadier up to the skies and smashed him into gooey bits unto the grounds. But once again, crying out in a harsh pain as the last remaining Grenadier struck him, the Psyker made a quick portal; without ritual, and without preparation, the portal could become unstable – but the pain he was receiving put the trivial matters aside. Tossed into the very Warp, the Psyker and the Guardsmen could become lost forever in the immaterium.

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The Watchmaster groan as she comes awake, using what little strength that remained to push the rubbles that laid on top of the buried Sergeant Guardsmen, but to no avail. Beaten, battered and broken, the exhausted Watchmaster resigned to taking in the beautiful starry night skies – there with all its basked glory of the galaxy which upon belonged to the Imperium of Man – to witness such awe-gazing sight, praised the God-Emperor.

However, a disturbance interrupted the glorious moment as the boulder began to shift, and the cause of it revealed to be the sole surviving Grenadier who heavily grunt as he moved and pushed the boulder despite the grievous injuries the korpsman has sustained. "State your ID, Grenadier." The Watchmaster ordered as the tremendous weight had finally been lifted. "Grenadier 017823-9348, Watchmaster." The discipline remained thick and unwavering as the Grenadier struggled to stand upright and produce a firm salute and stance, regardless of the pain he had to endure. "Though I am unqualified to bestow upon such honor – Grenadier 017823-9348 – you now attain the Imperial name; Hylric." In immediate acceptance, the Imperial Guardsman stood proud and offered a crisp salute once more. 'Now we need to find an Imperial Radio station to report the failing planet of Jules. In case, no reports have been made to alert the Imperium.' The surviving Korpsmen finalized their new objective.

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