Encounter #2: Recorded by Comissar Tarkus stationed on Sheroka Hive, Segmentum Tempestus

The battle for Sheroka Hive would go down in Emperial history as a massive cluster fuck of epic proportions, the mentioning of which is still considered rude at dinner parties amongst the upper class. In an unfortunate turn of fate the retaking of the planet's largest Hive city by the Imperial Gaurd from Chaos forces was planned on exactly the same day that not only did a Hive Fleet arrive planetside, but a whole Tomb Legion of Necrons awoke... needless to say the Gaurdsmen were fucked. Or would have been were it not for the arrival of a ship so infamous to the enemies of the Emperor its very name wakes Kharn The Betrayer with a cold sweat.

"Forward you cursed fools!" Commisar Tarkus screamed over the chatter of lass fire, ducking a well placed shot in time to have it remove only his hat. From his perch on top of a command Chimera Tarkus watched wave after wave of his "loyal" men flee screaming from the walls of the Hive city... straight into an ocean of Tyranid. "I said forward for a reason damn it!" The Gaurdsmen were faced with a hard choice, be pulverized by enemy fire while trying to scale a fifty story tall Hive wall, or be torn to shreds by Tyranids. The lucky few who survived the choice may just get flayed alive by the Necrons who had popped up as suddenly as nipples in an air conditioned room.

"Sir," The call came from the Chimera driver, who had only lost one arm so far. Tarkus stopped firing long enough to drop down and listen. "We've recieved word of a massive counter attack coming from the front gates of the city!" He shouted in panick. Tarkus massaged his nose wearily, muttering a curse.

"Anything else I should know about?" He asked mockingly to the sky. "Perhaps Asdrubael Vect and the Void Dragon are double teaming my wife as we speak?" And as serious as the situation was he took a moment to wish that were true... his wife was a spitefull bitch.

Before his eyes the small bubble of safety being mantained by his troops fire between the city walls and the Nercon and Tyranid hoards was shrinking, more and more men being shredded shot and eaten by the minute. The momentary advantage he had enjoyed in the presance of his dozen Basilisk artillery tanks was now gone, blasted into fragments one after another by the freaky floating Necrons. Just then the huge front doors of Sheroka creaked open, revealing wave after wave of charging cultists, screaming blashpemes at the top of their lungs.

"Aw, fuck it!" The Commisar bellowed, jumping from the Chimera and charging straight into the ranks of the cultists, waving his chainsword like a mad man. He'd had enough of this faggotry, and if he had to die then by the Emperor it would be while killing his foes. The Chimera pilot frowned at the sight of one man running headlong into a crowd of enemies, but his atention returned to the vox as a beeping began.

"Command Chimera forty two?" He asked quickly looking back to make sure the Commisar was still kicking.

"Command Chimera forty two, this is Segmentum Command vox officer Gerald," Outside Tarkus was still carving up cultists, most of whom had decided to go around him in favor of easier targets.

"Yes Segmentum Command?"

"Prepare for freindly forces planetfall on your location," The pilot furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean on my location?" It was then he noticed the sun gone out. The pilot popped the roof hatch of the Chimera and staired open mouthed at the sky, which was predominantly filled with the onrushing form of a gaigantic metal hand bearing an upraised middle finger. He didn't have time to scream, but after the battle barge had crushed him and his vehicle into the earth the still intat radio blaired out.

"The Killfuck Soulshitter has landed."

Tarkus turned from the half dead cultist he had been throttling, fully expecting the horrible explosion behind him to be the herald of yet more bad news. Instead he was greated by the opening Angry Marine battle barge, spilling out a torrent of the most pissed off sons of bitches he'd ever seen.

"FOR THE EMPRAH MOTHER FUCKERS!" They bellowed as one and charged past the stuned Commissar, wielding an asortment of strange and horrifying weapons (the least scary of which happened to by the few swinging Tarkus's own gaurdsmen as living cudgels). So moved by what he saw Tarkus fell to his knees and gave thanks to the Emperor, not that he probably heard him over the blood chilling death cries of the first hundred cultists and Tyranids the Angry Marines happened to get their hands on.

As he prayed a shadow fell over Tarkus, he raised his head and beheld Asshole, the most infamous Captain of all the Angry Marines. He couldn't speak, too amazed at the all consuming irateness emonating from the power armor clad figure.

"So," The Captain almost whispered to him, offering a mailed hand to help him up. Tarkus accepted the help as Asshole finished his statement. "Are you going to stand here... OR KILL THOSE FUCKING CUNT WANKERS!" Before Tarkus could answer the helping hand closed on his in a vice and he was flung head long over the wall of the city.

Though unconfirmed, it was reported that the corpse of Tarkus flew so hard it wedged itself in the barrel of a chaos Whirlwind's rocket pod halfway across the city, blowing it and the surounding seven city blocks to smitheriens.

-End of Encounter-

Bonus Encounter: Recorded by Brother Apothecary Morian, (Remains of) Planet Electoth VII Segmentum Pacificus

A little known fact, it took seventy three years to colonize Electoth... but only two days to destroy it.

The planet was utterly lifless, every city a necropolis and every farm barren of crop and farmers. Nothing remained but the ruins to mark the dead world as a former hub of Emperial trade and commerce. Dust had long ago settled on the bones of the dead, creating a natural burial shroud for those who would never know a final cerimony.

And across that husk of a world trecked a lone figure, floating listlessly toward his destination on what for lack of a better term was a floating recliner. his armor was dirty in every place not emediatly accessable to his scratching gauntlet and was starting to dent in places from extreme durations of sitting in place. He looked out at the deadlands sleepily and yawned, his helmet emmiting a burst of static at the sudden outburst. After a few hours spent drifting forward with his control joystick taped down while he played tetris on his vox system he arrived at his Company's landing zone.

A few dozen of his fellow brothers in Lazyness greated him with half raised hand and muttered hellos. Their ship the Lathargic Storm, leaned against a cliff face with only two of its landing gears engaged. Morian finally reached the slumped form of his Commander, who had fallen asleep with his helmet in a pile of cheetos again. He grumbled untill his Commander finally woke.

"Wazzat?" Commander Apathose slurred, a single cheeto falling from his helmet's grill.

"Sir, I've completed the planetary scouting mission." He groaned.

"Finally, took you long enough didn't it?" Morian just shrugged and sent a sort of funny text to one of his buddies before the Commander went on. "So what is there to report?" He asked slowly.

"We missed the battle and the whole planet is dead," Morian informed him.

"Hu..." Apathose sighed with a frown. "How long did we miss it by?" Morian consulted his vox briefly before answering.

"Twenty seven years,"

"Well... shit," He murmered. "We'll get the next one!" He thought about his upcomming planned three month video game vacation and added.

"Probably..."

-End of Encounter-