Brother-Sergeant
From Create Your Own Story
Your name is Ullanxes. You are 57 years old, young for a space marine sergeant and your voice is deep and resonant. Your force has been deployed to the world of Xecutor: a jungle-deathworld where the air is laden with the drifting spores of the native trees. Heretics have come. Your force was 120 strong, a full alotment from the 5th company when it arrived six months ago, now it is a mere 47, your Tactical Squad consists of nine Brothers, Brother Kovaire died last week from a bolt round to the head. Brother Orizone is on his last two belts of ammunition for his heavy bolter and Brother Malicant is running low on Prometheum cannisters for his Flamer. The astartes in your squad are as follows
Brother Malicant: flamer Brother Octavius: bolter Brother Varian: bolter Brother Loch: bolter Brother Darrion: bolter Brother Formund: bolter Brother Orizone: heavy bolter Brother Zeit: bolt pistol/chainsword.
The morale of the other squads are also flagging, though captain Vernor and Chaplin Falion keep them fighting.
The heretics are readying for one last push that will undoubtedly kill you all, though thousands of the enemy will perish.
The Captain calls for a rally and the chaplain prepares to bless all living Astartes, Apothecary Vesper has finished harvesting the geneseed and burying the dead.
The chaplain strides across the defense line of razor wire, churned earth and trenches that is your base and walks around the blasted ruins of a rhino tank to approach you.
"Brother, you look troubled. Tell me what ills your soul bears." He sates, Brother Formund overhears this and shakes his head emphatically from behind the chaplain. Your subordinate does not wish you to tell the chaplain that your morale is slipping for fear of what the Chaplain will sentence you to for penance.
