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Description
I blame Dan for this. The preview image is his take on it...

Which ... inspired me to draw my take. See? Damn it all.

Dan as an Imperial Guard Commissar, slightly off his nut.

Me as a Cadian Kasrkin Sergeant.

Some poor schmuck as an Imperial Guard grunt.

I am such a nerd.

-

SOME EXPLANATION:

Warhammer 40K is a game about little miniatures that you make fight. Think of those little green Army men but ... Like, 50 times more expensive. Anyhow, the Imperial Guard is the army of Man. Humans number in the hundreds of billions in the 41st Millenium, stretching across the galaxy.

Commissars are disciplinary officers who maintain morale [that means they keep you from turning tail and running at the first sign of danger]. Their favorite way to do this is by summary execution of officers and squad leaders who fail to keep their men rallied. Thus, they are rightly feared individuals on the battlefield - by both sides. Dan, however, is insane. His idea of a good job as a Commissar would be to plow his escort Basilisk [a tank with a giant artillery cannon - meant to be shot from the back lines] right his own forces to give him a clear shot at an enemy 200 feet away. Then, he will watch the fireworks as both the enemy and the main of his own front lines are utterly obliterated. Such is life.

Kasrkins are the Cadian equivalent of Imperial Guard Storm Troopers - elite soldiers equipped with better armor and stronger weapons in order to help them perform surgical strikes deep in enemy territory and other such undesirable tasks that generally end in instant death for all but the best of the best.

Imperial Guardsmen, on a whole, are pretty dumb. The tech/knowledge scale of 40K is like the Dark Ages with laser rifles and battle tanks. People believe that machines [from coffee makers to warships] are governed by the Machine Spirits living inside them, and so must be prayed/blessed as necessary. Given this level of intelligence or the lack thereof, your average Guardsman wouldn't know to question the nutty Chainsword-waving Commissar telling him to wheel the cannon down to level and prepare to charge. Not, of course, that he'd want to get splattered across the bulkhead for not following orders.

Description
I blame Dan for this. The preview image is his take on it...

Which ... inspired me to draw my take. See? Damn it all.

Dan as an Imperial Guard Commissar, slightly off his nut.

Me as a Cadian Kasrkin Sergeant.

Some poor schmuck as an Imperial Guard grunt.

I am such a nerd.

-

SOME EXPLANATION:

Warhammer 40K is a game about little miniatures that you make fight. Think of those little green Army men but ... Like, 50 times more expensive. Anyhow, the Imperial Guard is the army of Man. Humans number in the hundreds of billions in the 41st Millenium, stretching across the galaxy.

Commissars are disciplinary officers who maintain morale [that means they keep you from turning tail and running at the first sign of danger]. Their favorite way to do this is by summary execution of officers and squad leaders who fail to keep their men rallied. Thus, they are rightly feared individuals on the battlefield - by both sides. Dan, however, is insane. His idea of a good job as a Commissar would be to plow his escort Basilisk [a tank with a giant artillery cannon - meant to be shot from the back lines] right his own forces to give him a clear shot at an enemy 200 feet away. Then, he will watch the fireworks as both the enemy and the main of his own front lines are utterly obliterated. Such is life.

Kasrkins are the Cadian equivalent of Imperial Guard Storm Troopers - elite soldiers equipped with better armor and stronger weapons in order to help them perform surgical strikes deep in enemy territory and other such undesirable tasks that generally end in instant death for all but the best of the best.

Imperial Guardsmen, on a whole, are pretty dumb. The tech/knowledge scale of 40K is like the Dark Ages with laser rifles and battle tanks. People believe that machines [from coffee makers to warships] are governed by the Machine Spirits living inside them, and so must be prayed/blessed as necessary. Given this level of intelligence or the lack thereof, your average Guardsman wouldn't know to question the nutty Chainsword-waving Commissar telling him to wheel the cannon down to level and prepare to charge. Not, of course, that he'd want to get splattered across the bulkhead for not following orders.