#cadians

[alphamecha-mkii]

Cadians Advance by Michal Svec

[whitefriartuck]

Look how fucking tiny Major Sarkaana is.

[a-notorious-blt]

Holed up in an abandoned cantina, the imperial forces regroup and discuss their next move.

[sharkey-b]

some models i based recently

i keep forgetting about this account

[art-of-40k]

[thegodemperorsmycopilot]

[flunkyofmalcador]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

After Graia, Lt Mira of the Cadians and Captain Titus of the Ultramarines share some comradely time.

[tauman942]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary Lieutenant Mahin and Commissar Rembault of the 1012th Cadian regiment, are fighting the treacherous xenos called the T'au on the world of Kupa V. After annihilating a platoon of human collaborators, and shooting the survivors, one of them is somehow still alive. Sergeant First Class Rokken "Rokk" Tamaguchi. Who is this strange human soldier? What is his story? And why is he now fighting for the T'au Empire?

Artwork: 1) Imperial Guard Sketch by Salvador Trakal 2) Cadians Karl Kopinski, Games Workshop

Excerpt ‘I’ll ask again, what’s your name?’ said the Commissar lighting the tabac stick for herself.

‘Sergeant First Class Rokken A. Tamaguchi. Ident number 456-789-22010,’ he replied, looking at the commissar with his one good eye, the other having been glued shut, by dried blood.

‘Unit sergeant?’

The prisoner took in a breath, coughed, and grunted out, ‘2nd Platoon, Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, of the 7th Mu’gulath Bay Regiment.’

‘I guess it takes a commissar to get these traitors to talk, uh ma’am?’ said the sergeant.

The prisoner turned and glared up at the sergeant with his one good eye.

‘Got a problem, heretic? Want a boot up your arse?’ shouted Demin getting ready to kick the prisoner.

‘Hold on, sergeant!’ shouted the commissar with the tabac stick still between her teeth. Getting up, she shooed away the small crowd of guardsmen who were gathered around the prisoner. Then, pulling the sergeant aside, she asked, ‘So, Sergeant, tell me What-the-Throne is going on here?’

The sergeant straightened his back and looking off into the desert said, ‘There was a firefight. We over ran their position. Shot all the survivors, including the wounded. Then two hours later this heretic here…’ Demin pointed at the prisoner. ‘…Comes staggering out of the pile of dead bodies holding his head in his hands. He’s gibber jabbering away in that Blue-fish talk, “Tiki-tak ching-chang-chong oola-la-la!” So we gave him a rifle butt to the stomach, bound his hands, and sat his traitorous backside on the ground.’

‘Did you interrogate him?’

‘We tried. But he just wouldn’t answer. So we gave up, figuring he didn’t speak any Low Gothic.’