Guardsmen of Brockton Bay

Lung laughed contemptuously at the girl who stood before him. A young woman in a heavy green long coat and matching green cap stopped his advance, some sort of tinker tech weapon in hand. Military garb, similar to Miss Militia, though more old school. A cross between Russian and Germanic.

"What do you plan on doing, little girl?" Lung scoffed. In response, a bolt of supercharged energy punched a hole through his knee, cooking flesh and obliterating bone. Roaring in pain and anger, Lung lunged forwards, hands morphing into claws. A single strike severed the girl's head, what little armour she wore did nothing to stop Lung's mighty claws. Lung watched as the girl's body slumped to the side, her head bouncing across the cold asphalt. Pathetic. He was Lung, the Dragon of Kyushu! None could stand to…

A bolt of flesh melting energy slammed into his chest. Glancing up, Lung found his attackers. A dozen more women dressed the same as the one he had just killed. They dared to continue to contest him? After he had so easily slaughtered one of their number? He would teach them the meaning of the world power!

Then the second rank fired, bringing him to his knees. A deafening war cry heralded Lung's charge, the Changer throwing himself into the middle of the insects who defied him. Lives were ended in single strikes. Bodies were savaged and tossed aside. Spines were snapped with sickening crunches. Blood boiled in veins as flames poured from unhinged jaws. The dozen girls were killed in seconds, and Lung stepped out of the alleyway into the street.

A hundred tinker tech rifles came to life, held in the hands of a hundred girls in green coats and hats. In this moment, Lung realised something. Each insect he had killed, each body he had slain and left broken, were the same. Uniform in dress, in proportion, and in temperament. Each had met their end upon his claws and fangs with grim resolve, firing to the last. Clones.

Scaled pinions erupted from Lung's back, flames burning red in the black night. Human speech was beyond Lung by this point. It didn't matter, the wrathful embers flickering in his eyes was enough to signal his intent. The green coats responded in kind. A hundred more stepped from the shadows, weapons drawn. They were everywhere. More, more, more. An endless tide. Atop buildings, peering from windows, and filling the streets in an ocean of green.

As one, they spoke. "For the Emperor and the Angel!" A declaration of intent. An oath, from which there was no retreat. Countless rifles lit up the night, like flashlights in the night. They brought the day with their presence. With sheer weight of fire, darkness was banished from the world. There was only light, and blood. Lung reaped a fearsome tally. He afforded himself well, crushing grim-faced girls beneath burning fists. But it was pointless. For every one he killed, ten more took their place. Rifles cooked flesh faster than it could regenerate. The foe was endless, and each fought with zealous fury. In melee they were nothing—lambs to the slaughter. Still, they fixed bayonets and hurled themselves to their deaths, giving their lives for a scratch, for a drop of blood. By the time he died, Lung stood as tall as any of the surrounding buildings, smashing rank and file with wild swings. But in time, he fell to the endless swarm. His flesh, scorched beyond what even his flames could accomplish, his organs, cooked into superheated paste, his bones, ground into dust beneath rifle butts.

By the time the fight was over, the streets ran red with the blood of green cloaked girls, corpses piled meters high. It was only now that the Protectorate found the courage to enter the scene. As one, the girls turned towards the armoured man who stepped off his motorcycle and gazed, stone-faced, at the bloody scene.

"Who are you?" Armsmaster demanded.

A thousand heads turned towards him, tilting slightly in consideration. One stepped forwards. "Taylor Hebert. Guardswoman, 273rd Valhalla Regiment."

The next. "Taylor Hebert. Guardswoman, 273rd Valhalla Regiment."

"Taylor Hebert. Guardswoman, 273rd Valhalla Regiment."

"Taylor Hebert. Commissar, attached to the 1273rd Valhalla Regiment." This one wore the same green coat and hat as the others, if more ornate, and held a pistol and a sabre instead of a rifle.

"Taylor Hebert. Guardswoman, 273rd Valhalla Regiment."

"Taylor H…"

Armsmaster grunted. "Yes, yes. Taylor Hebert. Guardswoman, 273rd Valhalla Regiment?"

"Hmpf. Hardly." Armsmaster turned to look at the annoyed sounding girl and came face to face with a girl in a green coat and hat. But where the others wore plain coats, hers was decorated with countless medals. She eschewed a hat, letting her long curly hair run freely to her shoulders. "Taylor Hebert. Lady General Militant. Would you like to have a chat?"


It's more or less a mono-type army with a few commissars here and there. The in-universe reason for Taylor only calling up run-of-the-mill guardsmen—or women in this case—is because her powers are not fully developed yet, and thus she can only summon basic grunts. The out of universe reason is because I don't really know enough about Warhammer to know what to field. Plus, vehicles aren't really suited for inner-city violence. Neither is artillery. Or air support. Or most of the things the guard is good at. Luckily, it turns out that the guard is also good at dying, but shooting the shit out of whatever is killing them before that.

But let's just stick with the in-universe reason for now, because I do not need to spend another forever binging wikis.

On another note, strictly speaking, Taylor doesn't really have the resources of a Lord or Lady General Militant. Such a rank is only given to her by virtue of there not being any other parts of the Imperium in Earth Bet. Technically she should be a Colonel, as she only commands a single Regiment, but in lieu of there not being any other Imperium presence, she's been upgraded to Lady General Militant by seniority.

In case you're wondering, by the way, Taylor's trigger gave her the ability to summon clones of herself as Guardsmen elements of the 1273rd Valhalla Regiment, as well as the knowledge of the role of a Colonel in the Imperium, if not the memories. (So, no indoctrination to the Emperor or any of that, just the Guardsmen and the knowledge to use them to their upmost ability.)