Questions and Answers Segment 1 - The Beginning.

So I've seen some of your reviews and have garnered some questions on some things that may have been obvious to some but not to others. Though this is mostly my fault considering the little hints I left we're either vague or a throwaway line.

So let's get started.

First up is Alex - "Do you intend to let him join a familia or solo adventure?"

Bell is already in a familia seeing as how he has a Falna however at the point he was yoinkethed he was already a part of Hestia familia he was pulled shortly before his dinner with Welf and Lili before his fateful meeting with Apollo Familia.

Again from Alex - "do you bring the Emperor himself there? Along Khorne, Nurgle and Slaanesh?"

I do not plan on bringing any major plot or universal elements from 40K into danmachi seeing as how they are integral to 40K. With the way I have it in my head they do not share the same universal space instead they simply sit next to each other as parallel realities.

Next up is… Dorn - "How old is Bell, also will get the experience through his duty as Imperial Guard infantry?"

Bell is about 17 or 18 Terran years of age, however, due to the vagueness of his birthday, I cannot give a concrete age.

As for the experience, he has it in spades, which can be inferred by some of the dialogue. The Third War For Armageddon wasn't pretty, and he spent two years on Armageddon.

The beginning chapter is meant to set the tone for the first couple of chapters while giving a little insight and background, however, as time goes on you may get peeks of his service through flashbacks and dreams.

It should be mentioned that by the first chapter Bell is already 3 - 4 years into his Astra Militarum service.

Thorn Crown - Yeah sorry about that, I don't know that much about Tzeentch or Slaanesh even Khorne and Nurgle. While I do play Chaos on the tabletop I play Undivided and even then my army is more shooty than anything. Chaos is merely another tool of war, Iron Within Iron Without!

Larry - You took the thoughts right out of my frakking brain man, do we share a communal brain cell or something? In the future I may or may not feel bad for Lefiya… NAH!

I would also like to thank everyone who has either followed or favorited or even left a review, you guys keep me writing.

Also, that poll I was talking about is up so go check that out.

P.S. I'm happy nobody is minging about the fact I used an unknown guard regiment that's only been referenced in the 3rd Edition Codex 2 Guard codex.

P.S.S. I MANAGED TO GET MY HANDS ON A COPY OF THE IMPERIAL INFANTRYMANS UPLIFTING PRIMER WOOOOOO YEAH BABY YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

P.S.S.S. I may or may not (most definitely) start a Q&A segment starring Bell either as a fun closing to the chapter or as separate little updates in between chapters as part of an Author Q&A and review response segment. Also, I should have had chapter 2 done earlier. Originally, I wanted it done yesterday but the house behind mine burned down so I've been spending time cleaning the property line and taking precautions, sorry for the delay.

Roach_The_Inquisitor

Warhammer 40K x Danmachi.

Chapter Started: 8/24/22 5:49 AM

Chapter Finished:

I would like to preface this chapter by giving a very big thank you to somebody who helped me a lot with the first chapter in both planning and feedback during the writing process. That and finally allowing me to break through the stone wall in front of me during the writing of the first chapter, thanks, Bird Man. You know who you are.

Is It Wrong To Praise The Emperor In The Dungeon?

Chapter Two - Where in the fu-.

Earth. Warmth. Sunlight. Those were the first things Corporal Bell Cranel had both smelt and felt after he had collapsed, his mind overloaded by unholy splendor in a mirage of colors from the truest purples to the most putrid reds and blues. Which was strange. Was his place by the God Emperor's side supposed to be this uncomfortable? Or what kind of eternal damnation having his soul be sent to the reaches of the warp was sunny and warm? Perhaps it was the one Confessor Heinrich spoke of at times. Perhaps… That was all Bell's mind could formulate as he felt his mind shut down from the strength of the oncoming migraine.

The next time Corporal Bell Cranel awoke he was greeted by the feeling of vertigo and a gentle breeze, along with the sight of the muted rusty ceiling of the Chimera. Pushing himself up by his forearms from his prone position Bell flopped over onto his stomach his head swimming and his throat burning. He pushed his way through the bodily discomfort and managed to drag himself to the edge of the Chimera's hull enough for him to force off his helmet and empty his meal. It burnt his throat as he regurgitated disgusting greyed meats and half-digested chunks of slop even as he kept wretching to the point only the acrid taste of acid remained.

Bell laid there for a good couple of minutes his chin and portion of his jaw sitting in a puddle of his own vomit and wretched meal. It smelt just how it sounded and made him want to gag more to the point he would do what he had done earlier, again. It became even harder when the smell of rot and pus and pork? Entered his nostrils though he knew the pork smell to be from the burnt sloughed flesh of the corpses not a few scant feet away from him. By the throne, he wanted to vomit again.

Forcing himself up from his own mess he deigned not to wipe his own chin and sully his coat, instead choosing to pull his helmet off fully disconnecting it from the filter unit bolted onto his back and sit it down on the bench beside him allowing him to take in the vomit-tinged scent of earth and morning dew. He moved back further into the troop compartment to at least retrieve his stub pistol. He raised it with trained efficiency as he pulled the camo netting and tarp up allowing him to pass through the loading door.

Whatever he was expecting… this was not it. Trees honest to God Emperor trees as well as freshly dewed grass and budding flowers. It was idyllic… serene even, all this did was send his trooper-induced paranoia into overdrive. Leveling his stub pistol at the closest shadow he waited and squinted at it, daring it to make a move. But it did not, all it simply being was a sapling in the distance casting a shadow over the disgustingly hellish scene that marred this beautiful forest.

Clearing his mind of the carnage wrought by him before him Bell moved back into the troop compartment to strip. He was already feeling warm when he had awoken his first and second time but expelling bodily fluid really took a toll on the poor boy. First to come off was the armor though that would be a chore in of itself with both its bulk and complexity of the hazardous environment flak armor, though thankfully he had some tricks up his sleeve.

Bell started with the shoulder plates of his flak armor choosing to undo the aluminum buckle clips keeping the lower part strapped to his arm first, he then undid the top buckle clips letting the pieces of abused flak armor clatter to the ground. Next came the biggest pain in his rear end, the chest plate with closed rebreather apparatus, however, he simply sat the bulk of the rebreather scrubber on the lip of bench seats and slid out letting his arms slip through the arm holes with ease. Last but not least came the thigh, knee, and shin plates which unlike the rest of his armor was Carapace. Though they clattered to the ground uselessly as well.

Finally free of his protective burden bell set about stripping off his white greatcoat which like the rest of his fatigues was speckled with black splotches some were intentional while the rest were simply built up grime, dirt, and oil that had clung to both him and his fatigues… He shuddered to think about how he would look in a mirror. Moving to his blouse he unbuttoned it with ease before shucking it with his overcoat on the bench behind him next to his flak armor which left him in nothing but his belt and webbing, his pants, and his telnyashka.

Bell looked down on the form-fitting undershirt with a sense of both pride and longing. He felt pride for having been given the honor of wearing it when his deployment alongside the Valhalan Ice Warriors was ending, he had been allowed to wear it as a memento and show of service during that dark time. But he felt longing at the price that it had taken to receive it, the same shirt he wore now had once belonged to a man he would almost consider a father to him.

Breaking himself from his melancholic meanderings within his mind Bell refocused on the task he had set for himself and reached for the canteen on his belt simply popping the snap tabs of his canteen holder and bringing the metallic canteen to his front before undoing the lid. He took long greedy gulps from his apparently thawed water, though it was still cold enough to help with his raw and burning throat and hydrate him enough to the point he didn't feel so clammy and disgusting.

Reaching back for his handgun bell slid it into the holster that sat on his right thigh smoothly, the worn leather holster had been a gift from the portly and old priest he had lived with when he had first found himself on the snow-swept flats or Coronan. It looked well used and well taken care of, the leather had barely begun to age and shrink due to the constant diligence the old priest had taken to preserve such a fine piece of craftsmanship.

Breaking himself from his thoughts again Bell that it ought to be the best time to get the lay of the land before it got dark.

Heading deeper into the compartment Bell took a knee at the far wall of it to reach under the benches and pull out his box of issued equipment he did not need for his combat patrols. Shuffling through spare socks and some of his hygiene kit he found the leather container that held his binoculars and pulled it out, looping the leather chord over his neck he stood back up to go survey his surroundings properly this time.

Pushing out from the troop compartment Bell was sure to step over his puddle of vomit. He could finally see the carnage he had wrought previously in all its pungent and putrid glory. It was by the definition of the people of this world… hell. To one Bell Cranel this was a light and slow Tuesday in the Imperial Guard. Corpses baking in the sun had been stacked high in their push to trample each other to reach him and his now deceased compatriots, skeletons lay fried of any flesh or fat after being boiled away by a liquid promethium payload, and others simply laid in two internal organs spewing from wherever they could be pulled from on display like party streamers or tassels in all their fleshy glory.

Bell did not shy away from his work nor did he even move to wretch, he simply stared upon it with ghoulish curiosity and a tinge of delight at the heathens he had been graciously allowed to put down like the disgusting godless mongrels that they were. Bell started walking the perimeter of the clearing where this hellish scuffle had been dumped into his hand settling comfortably on his handgun holster as he walked, occasionally drawing it when he saw a too intact corpse.

Coming upon one of the more intact corpses, or so he had been led to presume. Bell could tell it was definitely male with a build more accustomed to industrial work that was laying on its stomach face down in the dirt with nothing but ramshackle armor and a rusty flaying blade. Approaching it with his gun drawn Bell drilled a neat little hole into the base of the skull where the brainstem met the spinal cord. This process was repeated several times.

Finally assured that he was truly well alone Bell moved to the tallest tree on the outskirts of the clearing, his hands grasping at knolls in the bark to heft himself up towards the branches so he could ascend. Managing to find purchase on a larger knoll bell had deftly and skillfully climbed the large pine tree had chosen. He settled comfortably on the highest branch that could comfortably hold his weight before drawing his binoculars.

Bell chose to look north first and saw nothing but trees and a mountain range as far as the land allowed him to and nothing much could be said for east and south. However to the west, he saw smoke rising from beyond the trees several kilometers from his reach, it was neither dark nor angry and it did not plume violently. It seemed uniform and calm almost as if it were smoke billowing from the chimneys of hearths in homes.

One word came to his tired mind, Civilization.

Looking below him again he surveyed the carnage once again for something of use, and by the emperor, he saw something delivered right by the God Emperor himself. An intact looking tauros. It seemed to look pristine however he wouldn't know until he got down there to look it over. Bell did not waste time and climbed down the tree with haste only after taking note of the direction of the smoke.

Reaching the tauros at a breakneck speed he checked over the tires and chassis first, seeing nothing amiss he looked under the hood or what could qualify as one just as quickly but only deigning to look it over quickly all the while muttering litany after litany to the machine spirit of the vehicle in order to deliver calm to the abandoned vehicle of its crying. He could hear its whispers faintly, though in his sleep-deprived mind he merely thought it to be the wind.

"Oh great spirit, faithful servant of Mankind and its dutiful watcher the Machine God. Heed my prayers as I beg thee for forgiveness, I am sorry you have been left wanting from the glory you deserve. Please calm thyself and allow me to ride forward to victory with haste. May you accept my request. I offer thee holy promethium and the glory of battle once more. Praise be the Omnisiah"

Bell had prostrated himself before the machine's engine compartment. In his hands, six metallic rosaries had been clasped in steepled hands, simple in construction but weathered and robust in look. The metallic beads intertwined his hands and fingers as icons dangled and swayed. One was of the holy Phi In Cog, the so-called golden ratio within machinery dangling with it was the Cog Mechanicum, beneath them both on a longer strand of beads and metal chord lay the symbol of the forge world of Lucius.

The other three rosaries had been wrapped in a peculiar way as to allow them to strain against his own weak flesh digging into the dorsal portions of his hand. One is a simple yet elegant gold two-headed eagle, an Aquila the symbol of the Holy God Emperor Of Mankind. The other was a Rosette simple in design and made of cast iron, it had given him the authority to carry out his Mistress's will and was a symbol of his dedication to the God Emperor and to Humanity. Finally was a Gothic Cross, made of diamantine and as dense as stone it housed secrets only known to him.

The peculiar prayer item had been given to him by the same priest that had taken him in all those years ago.

1 Hour Later…

001 - M42

Unnamed Planet

Unknown Segmentum

Finally standing from his prostrations before the great machine Bell felt less weary and a little more awake in his actions than he had done before. Giving a nod of thanks to the machine spirit of the tauros did he look upon it with more earnest detail. The plating coving important sections had rusted slightly as paint chipped and it was missing its weapon though still maintained the mount for one. Another oddity was the addition of bustle racks on the rear side plating, normally where hunter-killer missiles would be mounted.

Finally allowing himself to sit in the driver's seat Bell had pushed to start button while mumbling the canticle of ignition under his breath as he stroked the dashboard with his hands. Looking at the fuel gauge he smiled as it had read three-fourths of a tank of promethium. None of the maintenance warning lights came on either which was a blessing given how long it must have been left in the snow drift. He could swear he heard Sergeant mention it in passing but that was it.

Turning the engine off with the push of a button the young rabbit had now prepared for the task he would most hate, equipment recovery, equipment tally, and the burning of the dead. The first two were a necessary precaution to prevent material from falling into enemy hands and make sure they ended up back in the hands of a guardsman somewhere in the galaxy. He also had to see what his own provisions were as well. As for the burning of the dead, he could not help but remove the taint that was now festering upon this world. He would most likely dig a slit trench around the clearing and set a controlled burn.

Onto the first task, psyching himself up bell moved with the purpose of a kriegan quartermaster walking towards the last final resting place of his sergeant he deftly plucked any remaining power packs missed in his first pass through of the man's equipment. Next was the chainsword and any blades that they had upon their person at the time of their untimely demise. Finally came their armor and clothing.

The armor and clothing were the hardest part as he looked into the faces of dead men… his comrades in life and his regret in death. Bell had chosen what he would take from each of the men he had once called brothers in this life. From Dunn came his Carapace armor, his uniform, his webbing, and his weapons. Though Bell would also claim ownership over their boxed belongings in the chimera as well.

From Chernikov bell had taken his trousers and boots along with the rebreather unit and helmet. The mustard yellow overcoat was beyond saving at this point as coagulated blood pooled in the craters of both the coat and what had once been the man's back. Not much when compared to Dunn however the chainsword would serve its new master well.

Bell wished he could give the men the proper burial that they deserved however they like the other piled corpses outside the chimera would go to the pyres just as they had been instructed before even when what used to be a squad of ten was reduced to five… and now it was reduced to one.

Finally was the kriegsman. Bell had taken everything but his socks and his skivvies. A bit humiliating to the now dead man but if Bell were to survive he would need everything he could get his hands on in the possibly hostile place. Again he had chosen to take the boots and uniform though he had left the mask and respirator pack where they lie on his corpse in what little respect he could give the man.

Unfortunately, he could recover nothing but Arn's las-gun and las-pistol. His body had been pulped by a grenade painting the side of the chimera and the ground around him with chunks of gristle and red coagulating blood. The flak armor had done nothing to protect the young man only adding more shrapnel to the blast that had torn him to shreds. At least he had gotten a quick death unlike some of the others. Bell had to banish these thoughts from his mind as he contemplated the real cost of death. To the imperium, it meant another day of survival for the masses. But for the corpses in front of him, it meant the end of war. For him, it meant another burden to shoulder.

Bell stuffed his ill-gotten goods into their respective rucksacks of the people to whom they used to belong to. The clothing items and other miscellaneous items found a home with each other until they could be returned to the Departmento Munitorum for redistribution. Other items such as las-guns were bound together by a spare sling. Empty webbing had been dropped in a singular burlap sack whilst some ammunition pouches had been pilfered from them to bolster Bell's own ammo capacity.

Bell moved to load the rucksacks and burlap sacks of equipment onto the bustle racks of the tauros, his hands shaking as he did. Other things like ammunition cans found a home along with the sacks of equipment whilst the weapons found a home in the nooks and crannies of the driver's compartment. Bell would take proper equipment inventory after he cleaned out the chimera and found relative safety from whatever was beyond the woods.

Finally came the largest pain in Bell's rear other than the armor that he had managed to tie to the rack. The heavy bolter could not be left behind nor could it be dismantled. Undoing the camo net over the compartment entrance Bell folded it quickly before tossing it onto the still drying driver's seat to act as a buffer between him and the wet seat. Returning back to the bolter he started to undo the pins that held the gimble and mounting pintle to the tripod.

"Be still spirits, I do what I must, forgive the intrusion, and give me your trust."

Bell mumbled the canticle of appeasement under his breath as he hefted the bolter up in his arms. Straining against the weight of the monolithic firearm he awkwardly waddled his way over to the rear of the tauros. Heaving himself up onto the firestep he lightly set the bolter into its new home on the vehicle making sure to place the pins into the mount to secure the weapon. He moved back to the chimera one last time for the can of ammo he unloaded and the box of rations.

After quickly securing his one source of food for the time being, no matter how disgusting it was. The young corporal did one last once over of the bustle racks. Making sure to secure any loose-looking pieces of armor or crates as well as bags and sacks with what rope he had on hand Bell took a step back to admire his handiwork with a small smile.

Looking back on what he had called home for the past couple of weeks Bell sighed heavily as he moved to the entrance with trepidation. Standing in the doorway of the chimera he raised his arm towards the prone shoulder-to-shoulder forms of his comrades he mumbled a singular word.

"Firebolt"

Bell left before the smell of roast grox hit him or the flames consumed what had been his friends in the inferno of blessed fire. He moved to the large piles of corpses strewn about the now quiet battleground mumbling that singular incantation over and over again until he found that all the piles of festering corpses were burning like incense on sanguinala. Turning away from the sight he had grown so used to The Little Rookie had made his way to the tauros.

Settling himself into the driver's seat Bell plucked a package of Lho sticks from the dashboard he had placed while loading anything of value onto the vehicle. He also reached over to one of the nooks within the driver's area and settled his las-gun upon his lap before drawing one of the filtered cancer sticks from the package he snuggled the stick into his mouth, just clenched between his left set of incisors. Flicking open the lighter he had lifted from the good sergeant's corpse bell lit the little tube of tobacco with an inhale before starting the engine with a mumbled litany and bringing his foot down on the pedal.

Well, there we go, that's chapter two! Again I would like to apologize for the delay once more. I would like to say I will be spacing chapter three out a bit more than the time it took for chapter two due to waiting for results on the poll and some other personal things that came up quite recently.

Again please leave a review with a question for the little rabbit if you want to, I'll probably do the Character and Author Q&A sections in between chapters if things keep panning out the way they have been recently.

This is Roach, signing off!