213tharmageddon

[213tharmageddon]

[213tharmageddon]

YOU'VE JUST BEEN ISEKAI'D!

You know how it is. You were hit by a truck or fell from a great height, and now you're trapped in a fantasy land! Quick, spin this wheel to find out what you've reincarnated as!

Remember to show this to all your friends :)

[213tharmageddon]

birth of a saint

[213tharmageddon]

Si fractus illabatur orbis

It is 941.M41, and the planet of Armageddon waits for the heavens to fall.

One month ago, a space hulk of incredible size emerged from the warp into the Armageddon system, and in a series of brief, one sided engagements, swept aside the decrepit orbital fortifications and System Defense Navy vessels. Astropathic calls for aid flew to neighboring worlds, to the demi-god chapters of the Astartes, and to Holy Terra itself. But the greenskins were already at your doorstep.

Armageddon Defense Command rushed to full alert, calling up reserves, increasing recruitement and production quotas. But their response was uncoordinated, hindered by the inaction (and, some would whisper, incompetence) of Herman von Strab, the Imperial Governor. His power absolute, Von Strab assured the citizens and noble houses that their strength was insurmountable, their position unassailable. He swore that any of the Orkish rabble that set foot upon your world would be ground into dust, scattered in the ash wastes by the Steel Legion.

Brave words that assuaged the common people, but the general staff were wise enough to know better. Hobbled by Von Strab’s intransigence and refusal to listen to counsel, the hives of Armageddon look to their defenses as best they can….

You, the freshly minted soldiers of the Armageddon Steel Legion, find yourselves adrift in a maelstrom of barely-organized chaos. When the orders came for all regiments to muster and deploy, the ADC instigated rushed training for all recruits and inductees. The last month of your basic training cut short, you found yourselves roused from your barracks in the middle hive and herded aboard the titanic mag-lev trains that criss-cross Hive Volcanus. Hours of dull travel, enlivened only by the occasional brawl (quickly broken up by the Commissariate) or card game, pass as you journey the long miles across and down in the hive before the mag-train screeches to a halt. You disembark and are herded by bellowing NCOs, shouting commissars and sign-waving military police into some semblence of order, then marched down another endless series of ramps and broad corridors, leading gradually into the blinding light at the end of the tunnel.

You emerge, most of you for the very first time, onto the surface of your home planet.

Your first, most overwhelming visual impression is the sky. The great, immense, impossibly empty sky overhead, and a horizon that stretches further than you’ve seen in your entire lives. The immensity of your world is overwhelming to thousands of young men and women that have never traveled further than their home hab blocks and training centers. Even with the billions of tonnes of pollutants pouring from the hive stacks above you, and in spite of the dust storms blowing across the ash wastes, the sun is still brighter than you’d ever imagined it could be, staring up through the dirty plasteel windows of Hive Volcanus. Several of your fellow recruits look pale, and a few appear unsteady on their feet.

The next thing that strikes you is the smell- absent are the dull undertones of piss and stale beer, industrial waste and sweat and iron. Instead you inhale the scent of a dry, burning alkaline sensation, followed by the reek of promethium. Before you, some half a kilometer distant, is an encampment surrounded by barbed wire and high berms. Pre-fab shelters are present, and tents are even now being assembled in a regular grid pattern in and around the structures. A vast park of armoured vehicles takes up almost a third of the compound, and you can see scurrying teams of tech priests and guardsmen working on them feverishly.

Your officers form you into columns and march you into the camp, and overwhelmed munitorum functionaries with datapads and clipboards begin directing you by company, platoon and then squad to your temporary quarters in the tent city. Assigned to 1st platoon, 1st company, 3rd Battalion of the 213th Armageddon Steel Legion Mechanized Infantry, you make your way to your new home for Emperor alone knows how long, and settle in with your new brothers and sisters of the Imperial Guard.

Today is the Feast of the Emperor’s Ascension.

Today is the last day of peace.