Youth wracked by nightmarish visions
|
Greetings all Dakka enthusiasts. I've read the warhammer books for about 6 years now, but never tried my hand at writing anything in said universe. This is a first, and incredibly crude attempt at doing so. It's a very rough draft, I mostly just wanted to get some of my ideas down in a story format. I plan to begin acquiring and painting an IG army that goes along with this, using a myriad of regimental uniforms with some kind of linking factor, whether it be a colored arm or something. I wrote this in about 20 minutes, and am happy to accept both constructive and derogatory criticism.
The Patchwork 22nd
In an undertaking as vast as the Imperium, there’s always rough edges, always something that we have no plan for. The Administratum prides itself on being nothing if not thorough. And it is with that notion in mind, that I sign into effect the Patchwork Regiments, let the paperwork commence.
- Master Adept of the Departmento Munitorum - Segmentum Ultima, Regex Illsar
The Refuse Regiments, The Housecleaners, The Brush Under the Rug’s. He’d heard all of them before, and he was certain there’d be more to come by the end of his career. Sergeant Caer took another drag of his lho-stick and threw down his cards with a wide grin. His winning hand was all that stopped him from tossing an empty bottle at one of the fine representatives of the stately Fahrrin Hussars. Even as he scooped his winnings up from his fellow sergeants, he heard a comment about the gak 22nd, but paid it no mind.
“ Dedrick , how does that not bother you?” Dedrick Caer looked up to the speaker, and with a salesman’s smile he just shrugged. Before him was the newest of the Sergeants circle, a bushy eyed scout commander from something-or-other fourth mechanized. All at the table had their original uniforms still, the higher ups hadn’t gotten around to ordering new ones, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone except those outside the regiment. The only sign that they shared anything was the Needle and Thread logo on their upper shoulder, though each sergeant had their old regiment’s logo just under it.
“ I s’pose it’s because I get to spend my off hours with such generous fellows as yourselves.” Dedrick scooped the last of the tables winnings into a pouch strapped to his thigh, and finished his glo-stick before tossing it aside.” What’s your name anyway, lad? Should know whose money it is I’m taking.” All eyes shifted from Dedrick to the new mechanized sergeant, and he just coughed. By appearance alone it was obvious the new addition to the circle was at least a few years older than Dedrick, but that’s not how things worked in the Patchworks.
Taking his cue, the new sergeant stood, and offered a bow to the group. “ Sergeant Tuskin of His Salder Fourth Mechanized, at your service.” Ralo Tuskin almost took his seat, before he realized everyones eyes were still on him. “ Ah... Sergeant. My apologies. At your service, Sergeant.” The table waited until Ralo had taken his seat before erupting into laughter. The man to Ralo’s right patted him on the shoulder, and with the thick drawl of someone raised on the Wilder’s Mining Colony, spoke in a warm tone. “ We’re all sergeants here, no need for fancy titles Ralo. And ya’ can call Ded The Old Man...most of us do anyway.”
Ralo simply nodded, and tried to regain his composure. Ralo felt ill at ease at a table with so many hardened veterans. He had served as sergeant of the agri-world Salder’s PDF before it was ravaged by greenskins. He and the other handful of evacuated military personnel had been shoved into the amorphous blob that was the Patchwork 22nd. His planet had been destroyed by them, but he hadn’t even seen a single ork. The landed noblemen of Salder had taken it upon themselves to draft a large portion of the PDF to act as their bodyguards once the fighting started, and the noble Ralo had been assigned to was one of the first to flee the planet. Despite having endured a decade of drills and firing exercises, he was still green. He imagined the other sergeants at the table could sense it just by looking at him.
The sound of heavy footsteps to the tables left quickly silenced the raucous laughter, and Dedrick was the first to see the ankle length red greatcoats of the Fahrrin Hussars. Dedrick quickly feigned obedience, removing his tattered cap and placing it against his chest. He stuttered as he spoke, his eyes averted and on the man’s boots. “ S-sorry sir. Dinnae mean to upset your regicide tournament with our good fun.” The other sergeants had looked up, and all burst into even more boisterous laughter at the words, Ralo only participating after a slap on his shoulder from left. The red coated giant sneered down at the group. His coat was made of the finest cloth money could buy in this system, and he looked as tall as an ogryn. His collar was pushed up, and every edge of the coat was laced with purple frogging. Dedrick had on more than one occasion said they reminded him of a certain engorged organ with their appearance.
“ Sergeant Caerr, keep your flea-ridden dogs on a leash for once. Your ridiculous guffawing nearly toppled my ecclesiarch! “ The man’s voice and speech were everything a nobleman’s should be. Confident to the point of arrogance, and filled with undeserved authority. With his words he produced a finely molded silver ecclesiarch, and with a tilt of his head, Dedrick could see that the other pieces were just as ornate and ostentatious.
“ Oh shove it up your arse Huss- “ --
And that was the last thing he remembered. His jaw ached like he’d been on the receiving end of a shock maul. He looked about the cell, and the rest of the Sergeants circle looked similarly battered, but not one of them could keep the grin off their face. Ralo spoke up first. “ I take it this is common behaviour between the 22nd and the Hussars?” Dedrick only nodded, rubbing his jaw.
|
