Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Founding of the 907th Alascadian Regiment
Wind swept up the ashen dust, sweeping it in gallivanting swirls around the mustered troops on the fresh-cleared parade field. Ranks of gray-uniformed soldiers lined the field, and the rumble of massive Leman Russ Battle Tank engines made the ground throb with a palatable pulse. Chimeras stained with soot trundled up loading ramps into waiting bellies of the orbital lift craft, belching clouds of dark exhaust. The harsh light of the day glinted from the glass surfaces of building ruins that surrounded the field. The particulate matter and detritus in the air cast a brownish tinge to the landscape, giving it the appearance of looking filthy. Although, it was exactly that, but the pollutants intensified the effect.
Sergeant Callus fidgeted slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as he stood at parade rest to the fore of his squad. Even in the full heat of the day it was cold by an off-worlder standards, but to the newly-promoted Sergeant, it was stifling. Perhaps it was the confining particulate-filter mask that all Alascadian soldiers were issued, or perhaps it was just the momentous significance of this historic occasion.
The planet of Alascadia had not had a regimental tithe in nearly a full millennium. A secret Cabal of the Archenemy had sabotaged the world against itself, leading to a civil war that had laid waste to the planet. It was said, so much ordinance was dropped on the first day of that war, that the planet's axis shifted minutely and permanently crippling the planet's natural balance.
To Callus, it certainly seemed that way. He had seen ancient pict-plates and holopicts of pre-war Alascadia: a shining utopia. Cityscapes merged perfectly with the natural surroundings, working with the planet's natural ecosystem rather than against it. However, the planet was as dead now as it had been alive in pre-war times. Ash still filled every crevice, and very few crops or flora would grow in the polluted soil beneath the hard-packed particulate. The people left in the aftermath struggled to survive, being reduced to nearly pre-industrial technology.
It was an uphill battle over the generations, but due to the dedication of the survivors, they persevered. One might say they even thrived. Finally, today, on this day of days, they would pay back the enemies of the God-Emperor. They were assembling for a Holy Crusade, and Callus savored the thought of exacting vengeance on those who laid his ancestors low. The weight of the chainsword hanging on his utility belt reassured him.
"Today..." he thought, smirking freely thanks to the ambiguity of his mask, "Today is the day I will remember as our first victory over the Archenemy."
And Now, the Meat and Potatoes Following the Fluff-
That is a snippet of some fluff I am writing for my Imperial Guard regiment. Yes... you will notice that it has a lot of Fallout 3 influence, but meh... It is one of my favorite games of all time, so that is just how it goes.
The reason for this is actually kind of neat: I am holding a "Founding" for playtesting some units for my IG, to whittle down a 1500 point list out of a 2000 point list. At the 2000 point list, I am putting in non-competitive units in order to whittle them out of the final list in a semi-narrative fashion. As I play several games with my units, you'll see the units that last become "battle-hardened" and the units that get cut will be killed off. I plan on making a sort of narrative battle report series from this in the weeks ahead. The final-cut list is what I will be taking to Brimfrost 2010, the biggest local tournament we have in Alaska for the year. This takes place mid-March, so I have a couple weeks to prepare. Also watch for updated paintjobs, basing, etc as I get them ready for the painting competition in the same tournament.
Tyranids are going to be around, but they are mainly my fluffy army. Now it's time to lay down the law, and show the xenos, the heretic, and the witch the power of the Sledgehammer of the Imperium!
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