Death Korps of Cintra - Start

First Chapter
Silence

Trooper 561-103-083 ran through the black mud, pulling on her boots, getting thrown headlong into a shell-hole as a heretic Lemann Russ appeared on top of the enemy trenches, heavy bolter fire tearing into the ranks of her fellow troopers as the advance against the heretics with fixed bayonets.

Relentless the 561th Death Korps of Krieg heavy siege regiment marched forward over the blasted, mud soaked battlefield, while the heretics demonic artillery send barrage after barrage into the lines of the stoically advancing guardsman.
561-103-083 stood up, feeling as if her coat was now weighting twice as much as before, a thick layer of hardening mud, covering her rebreather as her left hand scratched away the thin layer on her gasmasks lenses.
Firmly grabbing her Lucius Pattern No.98 Lasgun she jumped out of the shell-hole finding herself back in the line of her comrades as they slowly closed the space to the heretics who fired wildly with makeshift autoguns, which crude bullets sometimes harmlessly bounced off or even backfired, killing the heretic who tried to use this primitive weapon.
But even then, the sheer mass of enemy fire made it possible for 561-103-083 to see one or two greatcoats falling to the ground with every meter they got closer to the enemy.

Bringing her lasgun up she took a swift shoot at a heretic heavy stubber team,
getting rewarded with the silence of it, while one of the heretic’s had slumped over the heavy stubber, coating it red after the lasgun’s beam had severed his arm.
And finally 561-103-083 was standing on top of the trench, next to her a grenadier hold down his flamer, the weapon’s burning red flame engulfing the bodies of the former PDF Troopers as the 561th Siege Regiment leaped into the enemy trenches.
For 561-103-083 it became a dirty and confusing melee, rushing forward with her bayonet up, driving it into the guts of a traitor sergeant, turning it around inside of him, so his flesh would stop sucking on the blade. Getting caught in this situation by a lunatic heretic, with the bayonet immobile and him drooling like a mad dog, 561-103-083 let loose of her gun, running towards him, her helmet of plasteel lowered and carried by the force of her small sprint into him, making him fall backwards, his tattered PDF uniform getting coated by more mud, covering the emperor forsaken eight pointed symbol of chaos he had scratched into his chest plate. Reaching to her belt 561-103-083 pulled out the short Spaten normally used for digging the trenches the Death Korps where famous for, it’s edges were now sharpened and reflected they red light of the emperor-forgotten planet as 561-103-083 swung it, cracking the heretic’s skull with a sick noise as his body twitched a last time. “THE BLOOD GOD DOESN’T CARE WHO’S…”, where his last words as the steel shovel silenced him, blood flowing like everywhere around them…maybe except from the flamer.
Walking back 561-103-083 picked up her lasgun, pulling it out of the heretic sergeant’s guts, letting the wound finally gasp for the heavy air of the forge world.
Slowly the Troopers gathered again, the grenadiers starting to clear up the remaining pockets of resistance with fire and bayonet in HIS name.

No further orders came, no artillery of any side started again to tear up every inch of earth which lay in the no man’s land, no Valkyries strafed heretics or guardsman. It was silent.

Second Chapter
The high C

But the Guardsmen didn’t need any further orders, they did what they did so often and sometimes even with a bit of joy in their work.
While the one group gathered the fallen Krieger and heretics, 561-103-083 and the majority of the troopers went to their new front trench, snarling at the rebel’s poor work they started to show what a true Death Korps trooper can do with his simple Spaten. Delve of spade after another the poor supply lines the heretics had back to their fortress were closed and instead deeper and firmer defensive tranches were dug parallel to the imperial front line.
561-103-083 had her lasgun on the shoulder, her spade sinking into the mud nearly effortlessly, only to be stuck when it needed to get out again.
Sighing under her mask she tore it out of the wet mud again,
the earth gasping like the open wound of the heretic she killed.
She briefly stopped for a moment:
“Damn Planet, Damn useless PDF, damn Opera critics. I should…”,
in this moment something in the back of her mind jumped at attention:
“This Trooper knows no I, this trooper earned no name yet, breach of regula…”
561-103-083 shook her head trying to get away the voice, trying to stop the feeling of shame and failure she got from this small mistake.
Looking around from under her masks lenses she saw the other troopers silently at work, only the sound of spades and mud hitting the ground warning the enemies of the God-Emperor of their coming Doom.
She shuddered for a moment, when was the last time she talked to someone?
The report some days ago when quartermaster 79 wanted a report on her ammunition supply?
Last month? When she got into a fight with captain delta?
Inside of her the small voice of the perfect trooper was already starting to make her feel guilty as the very LOUD voice of the proud opera singer spoke up,
shouting at the small trooper that she wouldn’t shut up when someone criticizes her mother’s singing in front of her.
A small smile played over Elise’s lips, hidden by the gasmask and the heavy helmet covering face and head.

This only lasted a moment before 561-103-083 continued her work on the trench, only getting back her sense of time and surrounding when it was finished,
deep enough for a trooper to stand in it without the fear of getting a crude autogun bullet to the head and with a fire step to unleash the wrath of the imperial lasguns into the heretics that would dare to attack HIS imperial guard.

561-103-083 looked up into the red sky, the small sun of this system was going down behind the horizon, no light was being seen on the scarred battlefield and
the night would be short and pitch black.

The grenadiers of the 516th were already looking forward to it.
Silence meant nothing of the war and without further orders the Krieger would follow their last ones, taking back the enemy trench…and the next and the next.
Until none was left or all of the Guardsmen death.
Like ghost the grenadiers crossed the no man’s land towards the next heretic trench, ready to get in with a swift night raid and out again.

A small part of 561-103-083, the one she often damned for its cowardice and missing dedication to the Emperor, was glad the she wasn’t taking part in it.
But duty never ends, even less in a Death Korps of Krieg.
Standing Guard in the trench, helping the quartermaster to give out the energy packs for the lasguns and helping to dispose of the corpses with a melta bomb.

Finally 561-103-083 got a small moment of rest and sat down in a trench,
after the past months it already felt like home,
her usual corner was here, over there was the sloppy work of 561-103-047 who always missed the same spot of the trench’s bottom, making his spot a small puddle of mud.
And right across her was the small shrine dedicated to the good emperor, 561-104-32 always carried it around with him, always scratching a space for it into the trench’s wall, showing the emperor in golden armour, his sword striking the vile demons of chaos.
561-103-083 unconsciously made the sign of the Aquila and sends a small prayer to the emperor.
“The Emperor protects.”
Barely escaped her lips, making her sometimes belief the prayers were the only reason she could still speak.

The greatcoat wrapped tightly around her she closed her eyes for a moment,
trying to get some sleep.

The Opera…the applause … red and gold … singing and dancing…
…her role…her arrogance…
her families shame…their gloating…

561-103-083…561-103-083…561-103-083…561-103-083…561-103-083
                             This trooper knows no nightmares

Buzzing woke her up from her uneasy sleep, opening her eyes she saw…flies…millions of them, denser than the morning fog of this world, they were swarming through the trench, trying to dig through the uniform of the Krieger.
         “Emperor be praised, they don’t get through the suits and rebreathers”
Seeing the living were no target for them the flies started to feast on the death’s blood, that still covered the earth, burying them selves into the rooting flesh of the death heretics in the no man’s land, the flesh wittering and peeling off from the bones, as it rooted away, the bones turning into a sickly yellow.
Chaos
Every trooper could feel it and ran to their fire steps, the long barrels of their lasguns pointing at the dust clouds in front of them, as something came closer and closer to them, jovial laughter and chuckling getting carried by the air and towards their trenches:  Nurglings.
A 4 feet high flood of infested demons of Nurgle stormed towards the 516th, laughing and cackling over their masters newest illnesses.
“KOMMT ZU PAPA”, they shouted mockingly towards the Kriegers,
just before the first of them were hit by the lasgun fire and a few heavy bolters, starting to tear deep gaps into their lines, but while the guardsmen only numbered around a bit more than a thousand, nurgles small servants were attacking with seemingly indefinite numbers and the anger of someone who’s toy didn’t work.
“Embrace Papa!”
“Take of your masks and indulge in the embrace of Nurgle!”
Obviously annoyed their flies didn’t work they jumped into the trenchs, dozens of them getting burned to crisps by flamers or torn to pieces by the heavy bolters, while only more and more followed them.

561-103-083 aimed her lasgun roughly into the nurglings hoard, there was nothing to miss. A nurlings head disappeared, coating its closest kin with gore, which only lead to them chuckling madly and pointing at the decomposing corpse.

One leaped at her, forcing 561-103-083 to jump from the firing step, kicking the small bugger with her heavy nailed boots, sending it flying over the trench’s top again. Looking around herself she could see the Nurglings getting hold back for the moment…at least.

Then she saw 561-103-047 slipping in his own self made puddle, falling backwards as dozens of the lesser demons leaped at him, furiously stabbing into his body with their rusted swords and claws, biting him, tearing off his uniform and chuckling madly as his flesh decayed on his bones, only angered by the fact their victim wasn’t crying our moving.

He gave his life for the Emperor, 561-103-083, thought as she pulled out a hand grenade and threw it into the pile of Nurglings around his body.
“Now he sits by the Emperors golden Throne…”, she thought,
“He wont need his body”
The nurglings giggling a moment before looked down at the grenade in their midst, and let out a long squeal as it exploded and showered 561-103-083 in the remains of her comrade and the nurglings.

Someone pulled 561-103-083 on her shoulder, looking around her comrades were pulling together into smaller sections of the trenches, fighting off the nurglings with bayonets and spades.
Just as 561-103-083 was close to one of this defence pockets a gloaming shadow was cast one the trench…

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY CHILDREN?”

The voice of the Great Unclean one was booming over the fight, as the nurglings ran back towards it, starting to dance around it and tell it jokes, trying to lighten its mode after seeing all the dead nurglings and no living infested Krieger.
Gently it patted a nurgling.
“Your Papa will take care of this my children!”

The Unclean one bloated itself up and let out a shower of Acid and chemicals on the Kriegers, who hold their position stoically and fired everything they got on the big demon, only making it laugh as it had long since forgotten pain.
And with a jump of agility, which seemed totally misplaced on such an ugly and fat creature, it was between the Krieger, eyeing their uniforms unpleased,
their acid prove tissue, repealing his first try to disease or kill them.
With a soft swing of his big rusty mace the only thing that remained of the guardsmen where the red stains of blood and flesh on the sides of the trench,
while the nurglings rushed forward letting their flies eat up eagerly, already plotting the next disease they could unleash.

Trooper 561-103-083 stood frozen at her place, her lasgun brought up aiming at the demon, which had just effortlessly smashed her comrades into a formless pulp.

“OHHHH!!! OHHHH! ONE IS LEFT!!!”

The Unclean one cried out in joy, his massive body moving towards 561-103-083 before grabbing her. The touch of his hand restricting her from any moment and making the acid proof layers of her Death Korps uniform vaporize slowly and she thanked the Emperor that she didn’t have to smell the demon.

Which suddenly stopped and eyed her curiously, turning her around in his hand before smiling greatly and getting into a great laughter?

“A whole planet infested! Dozens of races distinct? Millions death? You will be a good follower of Nurgle”

He cried out, the nurglings falling into his laughter, while 561-103-083 wanted to shout she was only serving the God-Emperor of Mankind and as soon as he let’s her loose she would…

In this moment he threw her into the air and a warp portal opened, purple vines flickering in the air as she entered the warp, only shielded by the protection of Nurgle…the last she would have expected.

But then 561-103-083 saw something….

A girl                                                            A unicorn

                             A white haired mutant
A circle of psykers
                                                           A wide river


Report in the Imperial Guards HQ:

Today’s looses: 32 235 235