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All the other threads are boring me at the moment so thought I'd make my own thread. If you were a grunt (IE a unit level troop to your chosen faction) what would it be, what woukd your back story be and (most importantly) HOW DO YOU DIE?
For example:
I am Dreg the Ork boy. I was born yesterday in the heart of the war for Armageddon. I have this choppy thing and I run towards this very large shooty thing. I hit it with my axe and it makes a big clunky noise. It shoots me and I die.

I am Necron warior #341452312 of the Sautekh dynasty. Neither history nor my truncated memory record anything of my prior life many millennia ago. I wish for death, but am never allowed to die, only the endless torment of being smashed in a million different ways and pieced together each time by cruel, remorseless technology.

Eventually I find release when something near me (probably a ruptured C'tan) explodes with enough force to totally vapourise my body and mind-circuits, leaving nothing behind to rebuild...

I am Cult-Brother Davidicus. I work hard all day to keep the Imperium going, even while I work equally hard at being ready to tear it apart, and I am having way too many children than seems normal. I die when my children kill me on their path to go join the star gods.

(wow this got dark)

I am Dark Angels Tactical Space Marine. Of the 3rd Company.

Upon finishing a mission on a xenos planet I hear Asmodai speak for the first time. I whisper to my unit brother that Amsmodai needs to chill.

The Vox is open and Asmodai turns to me and pummels me into a mush for disrespect.

I'm Shas'La T'au Orna'wra, a Fire Warrior from the capital planet of the All-mighty Tau Empire.

I don't know my progenitors and I don't need to. The Greather Good is my father. The Tau Empire is my Mother, and my Pulse Rifle is my brother.

After more than 20 years of lawfully following the traditions and whats expected from me in one of the many military academies of T'au, I'm embarked to go fight for my people and the well-being of the universe.

We reach a planet full of gue'la, that have decided to join us in our galactic expanding empire, having been enlightened after decades of diplomatic actions by the honoured Water Caste.

The tyrant masters of the gue'la don't want freedom for their people, so they send wave after wave of their brain-whased hordes to stop us from liberating the planet. They kill Tau and Gue'la equally, even the ones that try to convice them of their loyalty.

I fight for the Greater Good, for the Great Aun'va and for the Tau Empire. I kill for them, I follow orders from them. When my Commander sends me north to defend a choke point with my brothers and sisters we see for the first time the drop pods that bring the Demons. Monstrosities of flesh and iron that can punch our tanks with their bare fists, doubling us in size and strenght.

I fight, I kill, but in the extreme of a metal weapon of brutal manufacture and even more brutal purpose, I find my end, one I face without a shadow of doubt or remorse, because in my death, I still serve the Greater Good.

(I think I got carried away a little bit)

I'm Gideon the space marine! I have just finished years of grueling training with the painfull gene implants and the time as a scout. In my first deployment we fight necrons and I get ripped apart by a wraith.

I am a chaos cultist. I grew up on a hive world like a normal person. I was always vain, and always looking for a good time. I was a ganger for a while but it wasn't enough for me. Eventually I joined a pleasure cult.

We continued to grow more and more debased trying every pleasurable act and drug we could access. I continued to fall deeper into opulence and decadence, becoming obsessed with pleasure, pain, and a desire to be absolutely perfect in all ways. Our cult began to rise in popularity, drawing nobles and wealthy individuals bored of the rigid confines of imperial service and desiring to experience the euphoria of experiences we offered. As nobles joined the cult, it increased our resources to try even more things and fall further into decadence.

We began to construct a large monument deep in the under hive hidden from sight of the planetary government and watchful eyes of the Planetary Guard. A great statute of a man with a single breast and an alluring smile. We didn't know the man, nor the symbols we carved painstakingly on the side of the mighty statues base from anywhere. They just seemed to come to us as though we had always known them.

After the construction is completed the statue seems to glow with a strange aura. Within hours, the statue seems to pulse. I felt my very soul being torn from me and consumed by the alluring statue, As I collapsed to the ground and my body began to die, I could see the souls of the entire underhive being consumed by the statue as it glowed ever brighter. In my last moments I could see beautiful, alluring, and yet monsterous feminine figures pouring forth from a glowing portal that had opened on the statute.

I would probably a Chaos Marine. I'd have some kind of tragic backstory that led me to seek out the warband, get transformed into one, and through sheer hate and force of will endure the trials to become one. I'd slowly rise up the ranks, plotting to take over the warband from the current chaos lord. I'd have all the pieces in position where he would be offed and I would gain the god's favour.

Then I'd die to a random bolter shot because the big hand in the sky rolled a 1 on my armor save.

I am a guardsman of Krieg. I am one part in the most powerful military force the galaxy has ever known. I do not die, because death is failure to do one's duty and kill the enemy. And guardsmen do not fail.

I am brother Simmons of the church of geneology. Having successfully pushed a political and religious agenda focusing largely on the utmost importance of modesty and the right of the citizenry to bear arms (Both fire and regular, optimally as many as possible) our great and benevolent secret overlords signaled to me and my companions to begin the attack.

My unit's assault was flawless, appearing just inches from the enemy ranks and unleashing the mighty firepower of my autogun before charging in.

Amazingly, the pitiful puppets of the false emperor stood their ground in front of me and I watched as we only managed to kill three guardsmen. Then upon charging in my horror multiplied as only a single additional guardsman fell - what superhuman monsters were these? I looked to our more blessed brothers for support, but our acolyte comrades had gotten lost in the secret tunnel network and were only now clambering over the far edge of the large, rectangular plateau the city had been built on.

At a word from a nearby officer - "fix bayonets!" the guardsmen we were fighting were suddenly seized with a fervor rivaling the mightiest warriors of khorne. Attacking with impossible fury, they struck back twice as hard as our supposedly physically superior cultist warriors. A bayonet in my chest, I looked up at my killer in disbelief.

"but...how...?"

"Oh, we did an online correspondence course and now we're officially recognized Catachans!" the guardsman pointed at his helmet, where "Catachan" had been sloppily painted on top of his standard three-color uniform.

"Curse...You...Someday we will have...our.......codex........."

I’m Nunk the grot, fragile and scared....was stepped on by a Meganob in combat while carrying ammo

I'm hungry

Beyond that a gaunt has no mind of its own to think, all I am is the will of the Hive Mind; one with the infinite of the Swarm.

Eldar ranger, guarding webway portals on a silent, old planet, dead of old age and a pickled liver.

I am Khorne Berzerker. The memory of my name was washed away in blood, like so many other memories. I seek death and glory. Carnage is my solace, murder is my peace. I met my end in an unknown battlefield on some anonymous planet. Now I sit beneath the brass throne of the Almighty Blood God, one glorious skull among many.

A rubric marine. My back story is that i'm a pile of dust. I die when I forget my dustpan on the ship.

I'm a Mek., some kinda odd boy.
Born? No idea I just is and so I am. I do things. Some time it's amazing. Other times not so mutch. Getting the things I need can be tricky so I has a grot to fetchum. Turns out I has two of um. Get'it and Got'it. They're no end of trouble. So I kickum a lot.
They dropped me kill saw on me army... But I got a new army. a better arm. Lessons had to be learned so...I ate my grots. The problem is...I choked on a foot. Things are getting kinda dark... It's getting hard to see now...

All better. I fell on the tool box and the foot popped out. Jobs a goodin.


Looks like I'll live another to muck about another day.



To be continued?

Nope.
We crashed out ship right into da bosses ship to prove a point and our point was lost kuz da bosses ship didn't like that much and punched holes in our hull. ...
Or maybe something else but that's what I thought was happening we were all having a laugh you see.


Makin a mad dash to that rokkit, gotta get outa here!
Run, run, run! Kick dat one wot's on front of me. Run! Punch dat other one... Run! Close da lid! slam it shut!
Hit the red button! GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
WAAAAAAAAAAAGH! off we gooooooooo!


Wait.. where's da brakes! Oh.. dis is gunna urt!
Ker-Plow!



And dat's dat.

WAAAAGH!

I am honored to have earned the title of Shas'la T'au Cer'is as my forefathers would want for me. For my ambition the role of pathfinder has been offered and I accepted with a firm sense of duty. My Shas'ui lead our unit to a victorious mission where amongst our successes my own markerlight lead true the fusion blaster of a courageous XV25 equipped Shas'vre. Our losses acted as evidence to the necessity of our cause. I was awarded an ion rifle with which to act on behalf of the greater good.

My bonded brothers died around me as foes materialized before our strategic position. We retaliated to some effect, but my Shas'ui gave her life to give me the opportunity to do the most good. Without so much as markerlight support I set my rifle to continuous beam and let loose its might. The weapon miscalculated and backfired. My last feeling was shame and the agony of ion burn.

Grenadier #4-8-12-5, I am out of my teens and in the first wave on attack on an enemy defense line, after taking it, the enemy pre-ranged artillery flattens it. Three days later, the new 4-8-12-5 dies to enemy fire coming from this position.

I am gaurds man 2267368210. I was born on a moon in some system I can't even remember. I have spent my entire life training to die for the emperor. I'm on the battlefield slaying the enemies of mankind when some dirt goes up my nose. I sneeze and my commisar BLAMS me for potentially having the taint of Nurgle.

I would be a pilot in the Aeronautica Imperialis. Born to a serving family of a governor on a small hive world, I was enrolled in the naval academy by the gratitude of my family's employer. Currently a Sub-Lieutenant, I fly and command a Starhawk Bomber on board the Emperor Class Battleship 'Clear Skies'.

I am adminstratum processor #423754. I'm supposed to route troop transports around the segmentum, but by the Emperor that's boring. I spend about 2 hours a day looking over the politically important ones, auto-stamping anything with the word 'Space Marine' (not like you can tell them no anyway) and then having my cogitator take it's best guess on the other 8 hours while I drink and watch the chem-waves on the shore of Hepis VII, occasionally checking to make certain the cogitator is still running. My performance records are amongst the best in the office, and I'm pretty certain the militarum doesn't have a way of identifying the root cause for some of the inevitable misroutes. I did misroute a regiment of cadian ground troops to the wrong (occupied) side of a planet, but I labeled it as 'transmission error' and went back to my drinks.

It may be a grimdark universe, but my corner is pretty nice.

Wonder if we should tell the space wolves they are dropping in the wrong system. Hell, they wouldn't heed the astropath communication anyway.

I'm eaten by a genestealer at about 120 years into my career, but hell - anyone who follows a trickgirl into an alley runs that risk, right? right?

Grew up on a Hive world...Figured the guard was better rations (at least they give a seasoning bag)...Went to some planet with just a number....

Then I charged a giant bug...well splat I go

I'm a Eldar Corsair Reaver...

I'll be high on Adrenalight having a good time with several other Eldar and our cousin(The Dark One...) having a party with some drinks on shores of the planet of Solaris IV. When the topic of footlockers comes up. Our cousin gloats of his horde and it was well known... So in spite of my cousin I set to make a joke of him with my own kin. I tell him a tale of treasure in my footlocker and he grew angry and proclaimed me a liar. I told him if he really wanted to see it we needed to get drunk first so I can remember where it is. He queried why? I told him the way is lead by a drunken trail when I placed it. He would follow the trail while I remember once my memory had been stirred. He agreed, so high and a hair shot of being incapacitated with the fear of waking next to Slaanesh we began: Stagger, stagger, crawl, roll, roll, crawl, stagger, roll, crawl, crawl, crawl, crawl. He looked back at us quickly on all fours in his pointy armor. His eyes sharply narrowed in question his jet pack weighing down above him. We all held our laughter best we could. I waved him forward to go; Crawl, crawl, stagger, roll, crawl, stagger...

Yes! yes... That rock that rock indeed I exclaimed drinking my wine. He dusted the sand off and pointed down toward the large stone. I told him to dig and he began, we drank and watched him. The more he dug the more suspicious he became and yet the irony was I looked upon my physical forms own shallow grave. The ruse remained tell another reaver started comparing him to a pet Mon-keigh. If only he was smaller he could fit on our shoulder. The laughter was great and the ire of our cousin was unfathomable as his eyes where bright as two dipping suns along the dusky seaside horizon after hearing the comparison. Here little Mon-keigh come here Mon-keigh~. He crawled out of that shallow ditch, flares ignited from his jet pack flying toward us. I... of course was the target. He grabbed my mesh armor neckline and started to shake me. I was starting to feel a bit sick from drunkeness tell suddenly the shaking stopped and the sharp pinch came along my chest that not even the Adrenalight or wine could numb off. I looked down at his sword in me, You stabbed me.... I exclaimed quietly, I looked at him with meek shock before all was dark.

I'm a Plaguebearer. Name's Jeff. I don't die-I just go back to the warp in most battles, and come back out later to spread the joy of Papa Nurgle.

 JNAProductions wrote:
I'm a Plaguebearer. Name's Jeff. I don't die-I just go back to the warp in most battles, and come back out later to spread the joy of Papa Nurgle.

This is bull****. No one told me we could be immortal!

I am T'au drone 0xA187 F287 224D.
I am currently linked to suit #73-D. My programming tells me to follow my suit. I love my suit.
Our mission here on this planet is...
---SENSOR INTERRUPT---
PROJECTILE DETECTED.
CALCULATING PROJECTORY...
98.7% PROBABILITY OF IMPACT ON SUIT #73-D
CALCULATING INTERCEPTING WAYPOINT...
FIRING THRUSTERS...

*boom*

Recruit #12553
I don't really know what I'm doing.

HMint wrote:
I am T'au drone 0xA187 F287 224D.
I am currently linked to suit #73-D. My programming tells me to follow my suit. I love my suit.
Our mission here on this planet is...
---SENSOR INTERRUPT---
PROJECTILE DETECTED.
CALCULATING PROJECTORY...
98.7% PROBABILITY OF IMPACT ON SUIT #73-D
CALCULATING INTERCEPTING WAYPOINT...
FIRING THRUSTERS...

*boom*

This is amazing.

Sister Angelica of the Daughters of Obedience. While wearing The Holy Power Armor is still somewhat awkward I have mastered the use of The Holy Bolter. As a reward I have been granted a rare honor for one so young, a Holy Flamer to purge heresy.

We arrived on Malcolm IV with an honored representative of the Inquisition to investigate a report of cult activity, but so far we have only found Emperor's COCK what's THAT? It has SO MANY LEGS!!!! Burn! BURN!!!!!"

Among the servants of the glorious Emperor of man, it is a sin to speak my name aloud.

For my crimes against the Imperial Creed, I have been sentenced to holy Martyrdom upon the Penitent Engine known as Hatred.

In this, I shall not fail.