TALE OF A MACHINE
you are a tool
Cast in a uniform mold,
An interchangeable pawn
Devoid of identity
~Underhive Scum
I am a machine. Where flesh and bone, I have steel and iron. Produced in a forge world, a copy among millions to billions. Made only for one job, to kill and to defend. Through hell I have endured as my body was faced with fire and flame, through pain and misery I have suffered as countless shells and projectiles hit my body, through death and reanimation I have lived once more as I am repaired by the envoys of the Machine God. I am what you know as a Leman Russ tank. A box of death, a metal killing machine. My aim is true and my service, eternal. Here lies my story.
I was created, in a Forge World somewhere deep in the Imperium of Man. I saw my creation as my body was shaped, as bolts held my skeletal form together, I saw it all until the very end. I saw my brothers line side by side painted and ready as tech priests bless them with holy oil. I saw as they complete me, with engine and gun I run as my driver commands and his command is my duty. I was shipped to distant worlds, I cast my eyes out as I was handed to a regiment of so called "guardsmen". I saw as they entered my hollow shell and I felt them as they sat and activated my cold metallic body. I felt my engine revving with life, as my tracks move I do follow. Into my first engagement I could still remember, battling through the lines of heretics as I take on all they could throw at me. Shells, las, stubbers, bolters, missiles I took them all as my flesh chipped off one by one and my hull pierced by ever stronger weapons. I endure.
After the battle I lie motionless, my crew had in fact died. Scorch marks litter my body as holes after holes decorate my once fresh clean green body. The battle was won and I saw as recovery crew came and saw my lifeless shell, they deemed me worthy of repairing and I was dragged off into the distance. I saw my fallen brethren who were not so lucky and was either left to rust or carried off to be scrapped, back into a dark room I endured the repairs. My skin was peeled away and machineries replaced, bodies or what remained of them of my used to be crew carried off to be buried somewhere where they will be left to be forgotten as that is the fate of nearly billions of guardsmen who served in the past, present, until future. After it all I felt revived, back into operational form I was carried back into the frontlines to fought once again.
So many countless times I fight for the glory of the Imperium, planet to planet I went. Where battle rage I was sent to accompany guardsmen in the field of battle. I saw as their faces changed from dread to joyful in the sight of my metallic body and I saw my crew laughing in joy and crying in fear as the tides of battle changed from one hand to another. In my journey I saw many sights, mountains so large, hills of blackness charred by fire, cities so grand I saw them all. I saw so much in battle also as fellow brethren decorated by their battle experience line side by side in bases all around the Imperium, large or small they are all fellow machines as they lie motionless resting on cold hard ground. I saw machines so big I couldn't believe my eyes, how I dreamt to become one of them only to be reminded that I am no more than a tank sorrows my cold hard engines. What joy for them to stand as tall as building and shoot shells as large as a normal human oh how I envy their life. I saw as my paint chip and my body turned to blackness and the scars of war decorate my body, from one battle to another. I saw many battles, many won and many more lost as I saw faces of men turned into hideous beings of pure chaos overwhelm my position, I saw my fellow brethren in combat as their normal standard shell was turned into horrific figures of either perverse desires or living organic machines.
And for so long I have remained, for so long I have touched the fate of death only to be awaken once more fully functional. So much I have went through, I met countless faces in my time of service. I decided to stop counting them as they passed the hundreds of faces, I saw them live... and die inside of me, their once warm bodies turned cold as blood from their bodies stain my insides. I saw them beg for their Emperor only to be met with death as their insides rupture and their blood spread evenly all around my interior, I was used up to that feeling years ago as my aging body continue to serve the Astra Militarum or one would say... The living wall of guns. Sometimes I wonder what will happen when I becomes obsolete? Would I be reborn as another machine? Or would I feel the embrace of death for eternity? I guess I should let time tell its tale as even I don't recall any memories of past servitude, maybe I was a large titan in the past or maybe I was a mere lasgun embraced by countless guardsmen as they all charged and die in the frontlines. Maybe it's silly for a machine to hope but why not? If I can why couldn't I do it? As long as I live, as long as my gun continues to fire, as long my engines continue to scream in battle all I can do is to hope for the best. In this galaxy there is only death and war, in my service there's only the Imperium, and until my eventual total demise either by abandonment or total annihilation my life is only for the Imperium. Let my aim be true and my service... eternal.