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Description
Yes, this is Motorhead's Lemmy as an Imperial guardsman.

The Heartbreakers Billet

Private Jonas Abraham made his way through the 6 mile long encampment to find his new commanding officer, and the Kasrkin unit he had been assigned to, the Heartbreakers. Or to give them their unofficial name “Fraser's Heartbreakers”. The assault on the greenskin stronghold would begin at first light and he had some sleep to try and catch up on. There was a time when the noise of an army mobilising around him would have kept him awake, but not any more. At last he saw the flag he was looking for, a black inverted heart-shape with a wedge at the bottom, on a white background. As he approached the heartbreakers billet, a man with no tunic or insignia waved to him. He was average height and sinewy build, his exposed torso was pock-marked with shrapnel scars and three wounded-heart medals jangled on cords around his neck. “Alright rookie, welcome to the heartbreakers.” he smiled and offered his hand. Not sure whether he should salute or not, Jonas shook the mans hand but said, “with respect, I'm a veteran of three campaigns, I'm not a rookie.” The topless soldiers face cracked into a broad grin, “THREE campaigns?” he cooed with exaggerated surprise, then the smile was gone and he growled “listen new blood, compared to the rest of this unit you're as green as the paint on your armour. You'll do well to remember that when you meet the sergeant.” a tense moment followed but then the smile returned and he said “Where are my manners? I'm corporal Acherley, second in command. Come and meet your new family”. Acherley led the way as one by one Jonas was introduced to the heartbreakers. He shook hands with them all and although outwardly friendly, inside, Jonas' head was spinning at the apparent lack of discipline in the unit. The men were openly drinking amasec and smoking Lho for Terra's sake! Finally, sitting on the back of a tarpaulined earthshaker, was a man in full uniform, a sergeants uniform. He was tall, with longer than regulation hair. He had a well maintained powerfist on his left hand, and a hand flamer set down beside him. “SARGE!” called out Acherley, “the new blood's ere!” Sergeant Fraser dropped down from the artillery piece and strolled to meet them half way. He moved with casual grace, and as he approached, he ignited the pilot flame on his flamer-pistol and used it to light a cigarelo. When he got close he blew zesty smoke into Jonas' face and said, “blimey, you look greener than a lettuce, were was your last posting son?” his voice sounded like gravel being pushed through a colander, and the smoke made Jonas want to cough, but he didn't. “Argonis prime sir, 4th battalion under Commissar Yarrick.” “Yarrick?” replied Fraser, “how is the sanctimonious old bastard?” “still alive sir, mostly” joked Jonas, sensing the humour in the moment. Sergeant Fraser took a long thoughtful drag on his cigarelo before speaking again. “Argonis was a nasty business.” Jonas remembered the horrors he witnessed there, “over 70% casualties in my unit, but we held the munitorum”. “Wasn't quite as simple as that was it, Abe?” said Fraser with a strange sideways look, “The way I heard it, the commissar got his head cut off and the whole platoon got jelly-legs and started to break away, but YOU took up a mounted autogun and fired at the ground behind them. The way I heard it, if it wasn't for you the munitorum would have been lost to the usurper cult.” There was a long silence. “Nobody gets assigned to the Heartbreakers kiddo, I say who serves in my unit. But mark my words now, the real job of soldiering starts here, with all the woes and perks you can handle and more. Go and get some grub and a drink.”

by Arthurtwosheds Jackson

_______________________________________________________________________________________

OPEN FOR COMMISSIONS!

Support me on Patreon: www.patreon.com/d1sarmon1a

more art:

Description
Yes, this is Motorhead's Lemmy as an Imperial guardsman.

The Heartbreakers Billet

Private Jonas Abraham made his way through the 6 mile long encampment to find his new commanding officer, and the Kasrkin unit he had been assigned to, the Heartbreakers. Or to give them their unofficial name “Fraser's Heartbreakers”. The assault on the greenskin stronghold would begin at first light and he had some sleep to try and catch up on. There was a time when the noise of an army mobilising around him would have kept him awake, but not any more. At last he saw the flag he was looking for, a black inverted heart-shape with a wedge at the bottom, on a white background. As he approached the heartbreakers billet, a man with no tunic or insignia waved to him. He was average height and sinewy build, his exposed torso was pock-marked with shrapnel scars and three wounded-heart medals jangled on cords around his neck. “Alright rookie, welcome to the heartbreakers.” he smiled and offered his hand. Not sure whether he should salute or not, Jonas shook the mans hand but said, “with respect, I'm a veteran of three campaigns, I'm not a rookie.” The topless soldiers face cracked into a broad grin, “THREE campaigns?” he cooed with exaggerated surprise, then the smile was gone and he growled “listen new blood, compared to the rest of this unit you're as green as the paint on your armour. You'll do well to remember that when you meet the sergeant.” a tense moment followed but then the smile returned and he said “Where are my manners? I'm corporal Acherley, second in command. Come and meet your new family”. Acherley led the way as one by one Jonas was introduced to the heartbreakers. He shook hands with them all and although outwardly friendly, inside, Jonas' head was spinning at the apparent lack of discipline in the unit. The men were openly drinking amasec and smoking Lho for Terra's sake! Finally, sitting on the back of a tarpaulined earthshaker, was a man in full uniform, a sergeants uniform. He was tall, with longer than regulation hair. He had a well maintained powerfist on his left hand, and a hand flamer set down beside him. “SARGE!” called out Acherley, “the new blood's ere!” Sergeant Fraser dropped down from the artillery piece and strolled to meet them half way. He moved with casual grace, and as he approached, he ignited the pilot flame on his flamer-pistol and used it to light a cigarelo. When he got close he blew zesty smoke into Jonas' face and said, “blimey, you look greener than a lettuce, were was your last posting son?” his voice sounded like gravel being pushed through a colander, and the smoke made Jonas want to cough, but he didn't. “Argonis prime sir, 4th battalion under Commissar Yarrick.” “Yarrick?” replied Fraser, “how is the sanctimonious old bastard?” “still alive sir, mostly” joked Jonas, sensing the humour in the moment. Sergeant Fraser took a long thoughtful drag on his cigarelo before speaking again. “Argonis was a nasty business.” Jonas remembered the horrors he witnessed there, “over 70% casualties in my unit, but we held the munitorum”. “Wasn't quite as simple as that was it, Abe?” said Fraser with a strange sideways look, “The way I heard it, the commissar got his head cut off and the whole platoon got jelly-legs and started to break away, but YOU took up a mounted autogun and fired at the ground behind them. The way I heard it, if it wasn't for you the munitorum would have been lost to the usurper cult.” There was a long silence. “Nobody gets assigned to the Heartbreakers kiddo, I say who serves in my unit. But mark my words now, the real job of soldiering starts here, with all the woes and perks you can handle and more. Go and get some grub and a drink.”

by Arthurtwosheds Jackson

_______________________________________________________________________________________

OPEN FOR COMMISSIONS!

Support me on Patreon: www.patreon.com/d1sarmon1a

more art: