We’ve intercepted a journal entry from a Space Marine being sent home to his family from the front. Let’s take a look at how life is in the warzone.
My name is Brother Anismus, and this is the first time I have been deployed to the front lines of a warzone since 7th edition. Things feel strange and are not quite what I have remembered from my last rules set.
The Imperial Guard Make Fun of Me and My Brothers
I remember being loved by the Guardsmen. I would shield them with my body and we would storm the trenches of the filthy heretics. But that is no more. The Guardsmen point their flashlights saying “I’ve been out here a week and have more kills than you”. My brothers run for cover and hide like dogs. It’s as if they’ve forgotten how tough power armor is. Come to think of it though, I have seen many of my brothers fall to firepower that we used to be able to laugh at…it’s almost as if the Chaos gods have reworked the AP mechanic…
We Lost Our Captain to a Space Cowboy
It was only five days into our deployment. We were clearing rooms in an abandoned sector for any Cultists trying to start trouble. We began to hear Kid Rock music get louder and louder until we saw a little man shout “I’M THE ROOTIN’EST TOOTIN’EST COWBOY ON THIS SIDE OF THE EASTERN FRINGE. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU JUST YEE’D YOUR LAST HAW, PARTNER.”
The next thing was saw was our beloved Captain Perisamus get peppered by some idiot with three revolvers, sweatpants, and a cowboy hat. We tried to chase after him but our trail went cold when all we could find was a pile of crushed Natty Lite cans and a pair of daisy duke shorts.
Anyway, I am back within the safety of my compound writing this to you before The Guardsmen get bored and give me another wedgie. I will write to you again soon. The Emperor Protects.
Let us know how you think Space Marines would act in real life based on their 8th edition rules in the comments of our Facebook Hobby Group.
About the Author: Wesley Floyd
