Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 or any related products. I do own a large Imperial Guard army but this is NOT A SELF INSERT! This is my first fanfic so please R&R.
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Corran VII is a harsh desert world in the Segmentum Pacifus. Separated for 20 years from the Imperiums influence by violent warp storms, the populace turned away from the Emperors light and created their own government. The Ministorum has despatched forces to deal with the poorly equipped rebel annoyance. Six full Imperial Guard regiments have been deployed to the world among them are the 9th Cthonian mechanised, transferred from putting down a rouge cardinal on Scallous IV. Posted to the G'yuin desert that covers over half the surface of Corran, the 9th Cthonian are currently being held in reserve for an all out assault on Hive Rivan………..
----------------------Corran VII-------08.43 SIT------------------
The smell of promethium and sweat hung in the air. A man in his late 20s rose slowly to his feet from his bunk in the squalid barracks, awoken by the sound of shouting. He was of a strong build with broad shoulders and a heavy set figure but his most distinguishing feature was the scar that ran across the left side of his face to the glowing bionic eye. The man walked outside, shielding his eyes from the sun as he picked up a canteen on the table on his way out. He took a swig of its contents before spitting it out on the sandy floor.
'Pah! What the feth is this stuff!' he said eyeing the canteen suspiciously before remembering the shouting that had disturbed his sleep. Throwing the canteen in a bush, he scanned the compound with his one good eye before yelling 'DIETER!'
A younger man in his early twenties stumbled out of one of the buildings, his face still covered with shaving foam as he desperately struggled to pull on his infantryman's jacket. Stumbling towards the older man, he hastily buttoned up his shirt and saluted
'Yes Sir Sergeant Vikes Sir!'
'Its 'sarge' or 'sergeant' Dieter! Do I look like an officer to you Private!' yelled Vikes.
'No sarge! You look like a sergeant sarge!'
'Are you eyeballin' me private!' he roared.
'No sarge!' the petrified recruit cried, wondering if even commissar Pietkoff could eyeball Vikes, he thought not.
'At ease!' the private visibly slumped in silent relief. The sergeant turned away, a smirk on his usually dour face. 'Private Dieter, unless you are planning on convincing the rebels you are a cream cake, and you are clearly not, I suggest that you rinse that fake beard off sharpish!'. He laughed as the private ran off behind one of the outbuildings. He lit a cigarette as he watched the scrawny young man return and stand at ease in front of him.
'That's better private, now, who in Thans name is making that bloody noise!'
'Oh, well sarge, er…. you see, Dranser, Proick and Sventer are having this sort of er… competition round the back of four……….' his voice trailed off.
'Well, well….'.Vikes turned around and strode off towards block four, a confused and anxious Dieter following in his wake.