Down amongst the rank and file:
Amidst the chaos and carnage, a fierce battle was raging. The deafening roar of mortars reverberated through the air as the guardsmen scrambled to reload. To the left, a daring platoon engaged in a high-stakes poker game, wagering their precious rations. Yet, in the midst of it all, the exhausted commissar dozed off, his sleep stolen by a mountain of paperwork.
Suddenly, a triumphant cheer erupted from the poker players as the youngest soldier, Oli, emerged victorious. The commissar jolted awake, not from the sound of explosions, but from the celebration. Rubbing his neck, he turned to Harrison, nudging him, "No drinking on duty."
"Sleeping on duty is punishable by death," Harrison quipped back, defiantly taking a swig from his drink. "Want some?"
Ignoring the banter, the mortars continued to rain their fiery wrath upon an unseen enemy, guided only by the voice of the Vox caster. The scout sentinels skillfully maneuvered, their actions a testament to their expertise. As the poker game came to an end, the soldiers turned their attention to a new challenge – determining who had slain the most xenos during this deployment. Unsurprisingly, it was Harrison, a seasoned veteran who had seen more battles than the rest combined.
"Hey Kyle, can I have the plasma rifle in the next skirmish?" Seven asked eagerly.
A smirk crossed Kyle's face as he retorted, "Once you pry the dogtags off my cold, dead corpse – only then, it's yours." It was a well-practised response, as Seven had made the request countless times before.
As the last mortar shells were depleted, the Platoon began packing up. The calm was short-lived when an unexpected earthshaker round struck a nearby apartment complex. Tragedy struck as Rayn fell to the ground, his life slipping away before the medic could intervene. Pressing on, the soldiers made their way back to the strong point, where the skitarii were diligently repairing a damaged Leman Russ tank.
These tired guardsmen began to restock as the commissar made sure none of them stole any rations. The banter was as strong as ever, it sounded more like an academy graduation than an active warzone. Smirk comments about one's mother getting thrown this way and that. And also a grenade.
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