Official Background Material (Continued)Taken from the Medusa V Website (now shutdown):Extract 1
From the darkness they came, massive matt grey drop ships, manufactorum sized behemoths trailed by roaring plasma exhaust gases. They dropped from the heavens onto the especially cleared landing field surrounding Sybilla Tertius, the marshalling grounds of the Imperial Guard, touching down with a crash of thunder and a palpable tremble of the ground.
Even before the engines had silenced the huge bow doors dropped open, slamming to the ground, within moment the first of the hundred’s of brightly uniformed troops began to emerge in perfect marching order. Groups of Navy personnel and Guardsmen, themselves clothes in less elaborate uniform watched on. Some laughed and joked at the ‘toy soldiers’, others feeling a strange swelling in their chests, martial pride, stirred by the sight of this body of men perfect uniforms crisp and clean, lasguns gleaming in the gathering light, all of them moving as one.
The masses of men began forming up in squares, company formation it seemed, each block an hundred or so strong while heavy weapons batteries formed up to their flanks, the barrels of gun metal and brass glinting in the rising sun.
Impossibly, a small group of officers emerged from the drop ships gasping maw, each mounted atop a perfect white steed, the half dozen or so men trotted to another small group of officers stood before the assembled regiment.
“Colonel Inglis, sir! 57th Praetorian ready for inspection, sir!”
“Thankyou Captain, inform the Dropship commander he may return to the Faile for the 75th Regiment now.”
The scene was repeated over a dozen times that day, infantry, cavalry, armour and artillery each as immaculate and perfect in their synchronisation, a full two Brigades of Praetoria’s finest troops ready to serve and die in the Emperor’s name on this doomed world.
Extract 2
“Everyone out now, into the ditch! Move, move, move!”
Three trucks were already burning, the stinking smell of burning human fat fanning out with the belching black smoke, the civilian vehicles simply weren’t built to withstand even small arms fire. Unable to go off-road around the road block ahead the column was pinned and even now more traitors were surrounding them. The Medusan PDF stood their ground, but seriously outnumbered and lacking heavy support – their two VP-12 Armored Cars having been smashed to pieces in the first exchange of fire - they were fighting a losing battle.
Lieutenant Straeker, escort commander, didn’t know whether his distress call had been heard, his Vox man was now dead, his ruined corpse propped against one of the big trucks wheels along with far too many of his men - what little real cover existed concealing the civilians. Popping up from behind his boulder he snapped off a couple more shots with his laspistol into the advancing mass of heretics, he prayed to the Emperor for deliverance.
With a roar of thunder two Thunderbolt Fighter-Bombers sped overhead, spilling cluster munitions from their wing mounts, the lightly armored traitors died in droves, shrapnel cutting down many of those not engulfed by the explosive wave. The traitors went to ground in what little cover existed, aghast from the unexpected attack. Even as they recovered their wits the aircraft returned, their bombs exhausted the heavy cannon they mounted spitting death into the survivors of their first run.
This time the thunder didn’t fade, alongside the roadway pulling up alongside and shielding the convoy a column of armored vehicles advanced, a half dozen Chimera’s, a Salamander command vehicle and a pair of venerable Leman Russ battle tanks. Straeker stared open mouthed at the bold crimson and cream livery, glancing at the nearest armored behemoth he glanced emblazoned below the commanders cowl ‘Praetorian LVII’ – Imperial Guard!
As one the Guardsmen, scarlet tunics and dark blue breeches spilled out into perfect line formation all while their armored support poured a whither suppressive fire upon the cowering traitors. An officer stepped down from the Salamander, glancing at his now formed up infantry force.
“Sergeant, fix bayonets.”
In one fluid motion 16” of gleaming steel connected to each Lasgun.
The Officer drew a glowing blue powersword and pointed it towards the foe.
“Die-hards, ADVANCE!”
Extract 3
+++++ Incomming Transmission +++++
+++++ Source: Field Command Post, 5 Kloms NE Point 89 Cithaeron Line+++++
+++++ Author: Colonel Inglis, Praetorian 57th +++++
+++++ Destination: Edethor Sector High Command +++++
Honoured Sirs,
I am pleased to report initial success in our advance on the Cithareon Line, we are currently holding position at our current location pending resupply and reinforcement before assaulting the lines themselves. Advancing in Regimental Battleline Formation we encountered a considerable Xenos Tyranid horde comprising in the region of eight to ten thousand Tyranid organisms, largely of the Gaunt genus (according to our accompanying Magos Biologis). Very few larger organisms were encountered, an fact the Magos finds most intriguing and urged me to make you aware of.
With little in the way of cover for our opposition to take advanatage of, and given our preparedness, casualties on our part were minimal (see attached assesment) though ammunition was reduced by some 40%. Our patrols have continued to encounter isolated Brood-groups throughout the past 24 standard hours. We are due to be joined by a further two Regiments and a full Astartes Company of the Strike Masters Chapter by 1100 tomorrow; we shall commence our assault on Point 89 and establish conditions on the Cithaeron Line at this point.
Your servant,
Colonel Leopold Inglis
Praetorian 57th Foot
+++++ Transmission Ends +++++
General's Notes - I'll 'fess up now, that the three above published fan written extracts were sent in by one 'Col.Gravis', a bloody ungifted author who should never be aloud to put pen to paper. I was'nt going to include them in this section but in the end they are published so could I suppose be considered canon.Extract 4
Edafos North-East
Colonel Inglis, of the Praetorian 57th, must receive a special commendation this week for leading the successful expedition to reclaim some portion of the abandoned Cithaeron Line, reaching as far as Point 89. The reports from this front indicate a force of some 10,000 Tyranid creatures, mostly from the Gaunt Genus; interestingly, very few larger beasts were encountered. Other units are moving to press this attack and give support to this advantage gained in the past few days.
