# Jaen's Immolation



## Galebread (Apr 7, 2008)

So, this is the first time I'm posting a story here. It's originally part of something else, but I figured I might as well make it separate just to see how people take my writing, and whether or not I should keep this going. It's not the best out there, I admit, but I hope you guys enjoyed it.

-=|IK|=-

*Segmentum Obscurus*
*Real Space – Sub-sector Jaen*
*Haig’s Highland, Jaen*

A bright crack of light and sound threw Banns into a dazed heap on the trench, fires raged across the hastily made fortification as the ammunition depot exploded in a colourful dance of metal and smoke. The battle was turning for the worse, as it had been since the Eldar made themselves known four weeks ago. The 41st and the 77th Regiment had already been wiped out, and Banns didn’t doubt for a second that the 28th he was fighting with would follow the same fate. It just depended on when, and how.

“Get up, Guardsman Banns. Your duty to the Emperor didn’t include lying useless on the ground while you’re still alive.” A strong pair of hands pulled the recovering man back onto his feet. The face of Commissar Tshov came into view moments later. Another explosion went off near them, but Tshov didn’t seem to notice. “Those damned Eldar grav-tanks must be silenced, Guardsman Banns, grab a few melta-bombs and lead the charge.” A fizzling sound could be heard moments later. The Commissar could be very persuasive at times.

Ducking his head under for a moment to brace for another weapons cache detonating, Banns formulated a quick salute and ran towards the quartermaster’s chamber, trying his best to ignore the constant cries of man and shrieks of shells echoing around him. Diving into the blackened entrance of the underground shelter, the young man barely avoided being vaporised by the Prism Cannon blast that turned the nearby ground into molten slag. Shaking off the sands and stones that covered his body, Banns pushed himself up and laboured down the hallway, soon coming into view of the dimly lit quarter-store. Quartermaster Vians was waiting impatiently.

“Took you long enough, Guardsman. The Commissar had radioed in about his request.” Vians threw four packs of the explosive towards Banns, who caught them with fright. “Grab another battery pack as you go, can’t have you dying before you take the tanks out because you can’t shoot.”

Strapping the explosives securely onto his belt, the Guardsman nodded as he picked an outlying cell for his lasgun.

“Hey Banns,” Vians called out before the Guardsman exited from his sight, dropping his rank façade. The respondent stopped and turned his head around, listening. “Beer’s on me if we make it, the new chick at Bracks’ is quite the looker.” Banns grinned and gave his friend a thumbs-up.

“Best of luck to you, then; I had enough on my plate already.” The Guardsman joked, and turned back towards the battle raging on above. They both knew the offer was an empty promise.

A few close calls later, the grim visage of Tshov showed up in front of Banns, along with three Sergeants Banns vaguely remembered. The young man ignored the Sergeants and tapped his sides lightly, crouching behind a makeshift cover of mud and sandbags. “You’re late, Guardsman Banns.” The voice of the Commissar was as stoic as usual. “Take command of Sergeant Planck’s platoon and destroy the Fire Prisms besieging the quarter-store, you know, the ones that missed you. I together with Janson’s and Helm’s platoon will cover you.”

Banns held his lasgun up and nodded grimly, he knew his duty. Tshov didn’t said anything about what happens afterwards, and that told Banns enough about the man’s thought. Still, he knew his duty, and he shall not falter. A brief introduction as to who’s who later and they were off. The bombs were divided up between Planck and Banns, each carrying two.

“Alright, man. Gather up and check your rifles.” A group of tired looking but strong-willed man looked at the Guardsman and the Sergeant. “We’re ordered to make mincemeat out of those xeno tanks with these babies, and that’s what we’ll do. The Commissar and two other platoons will be covering our track, so don’t fall behind and you’ll be fine.” The gathered gave an assorted agreement and acknowledgement. They too, knew their duty.

“Good, Banns here and I will lead the charge, follow up closely. If we die, take the meltas off us and carry on.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Planck’s man saluted in unison. There was no need for another word. Planck and Banns looked at each other, and nodded.

“*CHARGE!*” The Sergeant roared his command with passion and fury. His man complied.

Grounds broke away; mortars filled the battlefield with shrapnel and flame. The wail of man was drowned by the shrieking shells and never-ending fizz of lasguns and shurikens, and on top of a scarred patch of land a group of man braved through death, towards their goal, their duty.


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