Trooper Varrus had seen alot of things he didn't like in his life such as his drill-sergeant who to this day had still been kicking him in the arse and cursing his mother for ever haven giving birth to such an unworthy guardsmen as himself, his patrol partner who fell asleep on duty an got them both night watch during the time of the Ork incursion raid ten months back and lastly of all he did not like the way he and his platoon had been requisitioned by the Inquisitor and her two companions of a Tech-Priest of the Mechanicum and the Storm-Trooper who looked like he took a shotgun round to the face and spat it back in whatever unlucky bastard that had shot him's face. No the thing he did not like to see the most was the wave of red cloaked cultists that surged out of the forest over the next hill into the edge of the large dig-site that the Inquisitor had said to "hold or die trying" as they plunged deeper to obtain some artifact or weapon of power or something that those inquisition bastards usually spent the lives of many guardsmen to get. Varrus gulped the last of his re-caf down, the hot tasteless liquid making him gasp for a breath of cold air as he readied the sights on his las gun and picked out a target with his platoon form behind a few lumps of stone debris around the entrance to the structure. "Today we send heathens back into oblivion and shall emerge victorious or we shall meet the Emperor with pride" his drill-sergeant screamed as he readied his las-pistol and stood standing behind Varrus, the obvious commanding officer seeming to dare the enemy to shoot through him to get to the pompous bastard. Varrus sighed and whispered to himself "**** all Inquisitors and their intrigues..." -Memoirs of Inquisitorial service, Trooper Varrus Correlus, Private 1st Class; one of five survivors out of platoon engagement with cultist forces at false dig-site.