7th Fen Guard

“We do not count. We kindle until the light dies. Until the next order there is only duty. And after it, none.”

Download dossier PDF

Core Data

Regiment typeArtillery (Basilisks and mortars, never fights at visual range)
Munitorum designationARM-BRK-7-7-OBSCUR-LOST
HomeworldBrakmoor, hive world, Segmentum Obscurus
Tithe gradeExactis Extremis – the single most demanding tithe grade
Establishment strength2,847 soldiers and NCOs, 34 Basilisks, 64 grenade launcher crews
Current strength1,089 remaining fighters, 8 operational Basilisks, 23 grenade launchers. The rest: fallen, waiting in field hospitals for freighters, or stored in depots without transport
AllegianceLost / Missing
OriginOriginal regiment

The pillars

The Artilleryman Does Not Know His Place

An assault squad sees the enemy and feels its wrath. A tank commander looks out at the battlefield through slits. The gunner of a grenade launcher knows only the numbers the Lieutenant calls—range, angle, fuse grade—and the light that comes out of the shadow. This ignorance is not a deficiency. It is freedom. For he who does not see the enemy cannot recognise that he is winning.

Brakmoor Gave Us Too Few, and We Gave Too Many

The homeworld's tithe exceeds its birth rate every year. The levy takes children at the age of sixteen, takes shaft-children from the Docklands, takes the lost from the ember-floods of the inner ring. Every Founding of this regiment is a village without fathers. No soldier here is truly replaceable—but all have been replaced. The dead replace the dead. Guilt replaces hope.

We Are Betrayed, and We Are Betrayal

Six years ago there was a core of this regiment, roughly the size of a battalion, that did not mutiny and did not desert—it vanished. It took four intact Basilisks with it. The Munitorum says they were lost. We know that people get lost and that machines do not. The survivors of that lineage, those who did not go with them, have endured a kind of silent interrogation ever since. Every single one of them could be the trust of the artillery unit, or the trust that is missing.

Orks Are Gods, and We Are Their Priests

A world without Orks is a world without meaning. Ever since Brakmoor rose to fight, the green flood has come back like the tide—always. The day after tomorrow, or in a year, or in a hundred: they will come again. That is not hope. That is structure. That is the only certainty left to an artilleryman.

Further core facts

FactValue
Field designationEntry
Common nameThe Swamped; the Gunners of Brakmoor
Origin of the nameHereditary: "Fen" (swamp) from the home planet Brakmoor, whose lowlands lie under salt water. The 7th founding of this kind bears its number through disbandment and refounding—twice annihilated in M39, once in M41.2
Regiment typeArtillery-Artillery (Basilisk batteries and grenade launchers)
FoundingM41.7
Tithe gradeCatastrophic (drained beyond its capacity)
Battle cry"Hum to the mud—fire to the lie."
Munitorum referenceARM-BRK-7-7-OBSCUR-LOST

Raising, Homeworld & Culture

Raising & Tithe

Brakmoor gives double what it possesses. The tithe system permits one tenth of the population fit for military service; the world sends one fifth. At first the reason was duty—the planet was punished after one of its older incarnations collaborated during the Heresy. Today the reason is administrative desperation. The Governor, in office for forty years, would be destroyed by the Administratum had he not always sent too many soldiers. Too few would be execution. Too few was, three times, what it meant.

Conscription takes place through contests. On the Docklands—the quarter of the boatmen—boys fight for two years in tournaments, three days a week, until only thirty of a hundred and fifty remain. The tournament is not training. The tournament is a sifting. The survivors are not the strongest, but those willing to fight until the fear stops. That is what makes them needed.

Because of this, Brakmoor lost its entire class of harbourmasters between M39 and M41. One ship that arrived there waited three days for a captain who never came. A second ship is still waiting. The infrastructure of the inner ring—the salt distillation works that produced drinking water for five million people every week—stands ninety per cent idle in the year M41.7, because the technicians all died with the 5th Founding of this regiment, or with the 6th, and Brakmoor has no means to buy Adeptus Mechanicus technicians from the outer ring. The planet grows cheaper all the same.

What the Homeworld Lost

Brakmoor lost the knowledge of salt-working. The method required four salt-masters and eighteen experienced workers per shift—thirty-six people in total. Thirty of them were stopped in M40.8, because the levy of the 4th Founding stripped Brakmoor of its artisan class. The six who remained were too old to train successors. The works now run with twelve people—and they produce for a population built for fifty. The salt water makes the other half itself. It is called swamp, even underground.

The Homeworld

Brakmoor is a hive world whose surface is covered by salt water. The islands are slag remnants of mining in the early Dark Age of Technology—too large to be quarried away, too small to be fertile. The population lives in hive concentrations piled up on these islands, and in undersea habitats that are bubbles of air, pumped by machines that scarcely anyone still repairs. The climate is salty, veiled, windy; the air is filled daily with salt aerosol that eats away metal and withers lungs. To live here means to fight back against one's surroundings.

This tenacity made the Fen Guard useful. A soldier from Brakmoor is accustomed to working under conditions in which machine parts decay and no reinforcements come. She does not repair her equipment—she holds it together makeshift. She does not sleep in dry barracks, because there are none; she sleeps where the wet does not run into the wound. She knows the smell of salt rust on metal as well as that of human sweat. This hardness of her world is her advantage in the field.

Society is feudal, corrupted by hive density. The Governor is unchallenged. The workers divide themselves into strict guild structures. Rank is everything; promotion by seniority is rare; advancement means that three families together are permitted to move one level higher. Violence is kept small, because the place cannot bear destruction. Soldiers who leave the place end up in cultures that permit conflict—and they forget how to avoid it.

The Disadvantage They Carry

Brakmoor soldiers cannot think under open sky. Not physically—their lungs endure—but in the unconscious mind that combat demands. An open battlefield without cover makes them restless; a sky that never meets a roof makes them slow. They are trained to fight in corridors, on levels, under compressed air. The open terrain of the Orks' civilisation makes them nervous.

In the battle for Haltern Kormorikhan in M41.3, the 6th Founding lost three hundred fighters not to Ork weapons but to coordination failures on the great plain, where none of the squad non-commissioned officers kept a sense of distance. The field court's report did the 6th Founding no harm—by then it was already lost, dissolved at the Munitorum end of the war. But the survivors, assigned to the 7th Founding, know that their world made them stupid.

Regimental Culture

The Fen Guard carries the ceremonial culture of a hive world into war. That means little laughter, much formality, and an obsession with placement. The day begins with a "Count"—not of heads, but a recitation of the ranks in ascending order, led by the Colonel, which the Colonel declaims and the last soldier whispers. The reason has long been forgotten. The practice has become heated. Whoever refuses the Count is forgotten—not punished, merely struck from the next round of rations until he understands.

The marching call is not music. The marching call is "Humming to the Mud"—a wordless melody, rhythmic, hummed while hauling guns forward or dragging ammunition. It has no beginning and no end, only an overflowing of voices. Men and women together give it weight. Nothing in the culture is male or female—Brakmoor always needed workers and took whatever could walk.

A superstition: no one calls a gun that has begun to fail broken. It is called "tired" or "suspect" or "questioning". The gun can hear. The gun will behave accordingly. An officer who called a gun "hopeless" found it shattered at the next position—not by fire, but by the hand of a medic who did not want to haul the thing.

The air on the transport decks of the cargo ships on which the Fen Guard has lived for four years is grey. Grey with promethium damp and Munitorum dust, which together form a sticky substance that coats every surface. The soldiers smell of salt and machine oil and a nameless odour that people develop when penned in a space too long. Worst of all is the silence—under gunfire there is noise, but in transit there is a silent hum that the engines make, and it drives everyone mad.

One of the few acts of defiance concerns the liquor ration. The Munitorum dictates that it be cut short so that the soldiers carry less. The Fen Guard does not drink it. It collects it. In every hull there is a niche—under the ration crates, in the field stoves, in ammunition boxes—where bottles are stored, a good two years before expiry. This collection is not loved, but tolerated. No one steals from it. The chain of hoarding ends only when someone dies; then the collection is laid out, a mournful altar, and some of it drips onto the dead.

When there is time, the dead are not buried in the salt floods of Brakmoor, but stored in the warp transports, in ice, awaiting a burial at home that may never come. Those are the good times. Most times have no cargo capacity. In the field, under bad weather, the body is left whole—not out of disrespect, but out of the conviction that the soldier has a right to a battlefield and the place becomes his grave. This is called the "open oath"—the dead remain, an oath for the survivors that one day they must lay the lie open.

The Commissariat

The Fen Guard neither fears its commissars nor despises them. It has made peace with them. A commissar is a security officer without certainty—he can kill, but he does not know when. This uncertainty makes him less bad. The senior commissar of the 7th Founding, Lord Commissar Hallbrand, very rarely fires. This makes him famous. A Fen Guard unit knows that Hallbrand does not hesitate out of mercy, but out of the personal conviction that an execution is a waste when the guilt can also serve as punishment through the next offensive. This does not give the soldier confidence, but it gives his suffering a name: it is chance rather than caprice. That is enough.

Ranks & Organisation

Ranks

Rank Upper Master

Description

Munitorum rank: Colonel · Form of address: Master or Chief Master

Rank Shaft Master

Description

Munitorum rank: Major · Address: Master

Rank Workers' Representative

Description

Munitorum rank: Captain · Address: Representative

Rank Shaft Overseer

Description

Munitorum rank: Lieutenant · Address: Overseer

Rank Squad Representative

Description

Munitorum rank: Sergeant · Address: Representative or Vett.

Rank Worker

Description

Munitorum rank: Trooper · Address: No address, number

Structure

At its founding the Fen Guard was a full regiment: three artillery companies, each with four Basilisks, five grenade-launcher platoons and three ammunition runners per gun. That added up to 2,847 fighters. Its present strength stands at 1,089. The deficit does not lie with the heavy guns alone—it lies with the ammunition and the leaders. A Basilisk without gunners is a heap of metal. A heap of metal that lives is what the Fen Guard has today.

The regular structure has collapsed. The colonel, Chief Master Eckhart, commands through two workers' representatives and four shaft-masters. The companies are not separated by type—Basilisk crews and grenade-launcher platoons are intermingled, according to availability and stowage. What remains has become a hunter structure: three loose battalion-equivalents, each with whatever the storemaster allots them.

The eight serviceable Basilisks are all concentrated in the 1st Operational Squadron. Three further Basilisks lie on decks with damage that has not been repaired; a fifth gun was used as a demolition charge in M41.6 during the withdrawal from Schlackmar—destroyed deliberately, so that it would not fall into green hands. The twenty-three grenade launchers are distributed among the platoons, but two platoons have lost their crews and share a single launcher. That is not an inventory, that is a dying.

Constituent regiments

Name First Artillery Company, "The Salt Masters"—commanded by Captain Korvos Ebbrath, a man with a face burned on the right side, who survived the fire of a Basilisk blaze four years ago and still does not wear one

Role / notes

With six intact Basilisks, four mortar platoons, ammunition vehicles. The Company was founded with this title in the 6th Founding and has kept the title, although none of its present members belonged to that regiment. They bear the name like an inherited house. Current strength: 287 combatants.

Name Second Artillery Company, "The Holdfasts"—commanded by Captain Trasvand Pellmer, a former mortarman who knows no weakness save a fear of heights

Role / notes

With two Basilisks (just dismantled in order to get a third repaired, whose engine exploded), eight mortar platoons, three main observation positions. The Company had not been re-formed after M41.2; the survivors of the destruction were assigned to Pellmer under this new Founding. They originally bore the title "Avengers of Brakmoor". That name died with the men who had earned it. Current strength: 401 combatants.

Name Third Artillery Company, "Rampart Corps"—commanded by Captain Ordinat Benno, a Techmarine of the Adeptus Mechanicus under civil agreement, who thinks of the machines, not the people

Role / notes

With no Basilisks (they are assigned to the Munitions Corps), seven mortar platoons, one mobile repair workshop. The Company is more workshop than fighting unit—it repairs and rearms rather than shoots. Rampart Corps is not the name the soldiers use; they call it "the Hands", because Benno works with his mechadendrite arms and is surrounded by soldiers who cannot. Current strength: 311 combatants (four of them Adeptus Mechanicus mechanics).

Command Staff

Command staff

Name Chief Master Eckhart Brakmoor

Beschreibung

Eckhart is a tall man with grey hair and a chronic cough, a soldier of the 4th Founding who survived the 5th, 6th and 7th because he was too insignificant to be killed and too useful to be written off. He carries a compass from Brakmoor in his shirt pocket—not for navigating, but as a reminder that there is a direction, even when the ship does not show it. He commands with the voice of a man for whom every order is a cost, but who knows that silence is chaos. In the first year of the 7th Founding an entire munitions squadron refused to load shells because the ship was not supplying them. Eckhart did not eat for two days; for two days he shared his ration with the mutineers. They returned to work, not out of loyalty, but out of shame. "I do not believe we will survive this. I believe it makes no difference."

Name Lord Commissar Hallbrand

Beschreibung

Hallbrand is a thin man in a black uniform with eyes that do not blink. He has a bolter at his side that he has never drawn, and a notebook that he always carries, in which the names of the dead are entered, every unit, every year. Six months ago he wrote the name of one soldier twice, because they died in different units, and corrected it by hand the next day: one name, two lives. That is the only sign that he is aware the numbers are people. He is not brutal—he is cold, and that is worse. A unit that was losing ground under fire withdrew without cause. Hallbrand marched forward and fired for refusal of orders. The soldier, a man named Andrul, fell. Another soldier picked him up and carried him forward. Hallbrand wrote down the name and ordered continued fire. The reason was not enforcement—it was mathematics. The position held. "Records are all we owe the dead—and all of us we owe to the Imperium."

Name Enginseer Benno Brakmoor

Beschreibung

Benno is not purely a soldier; he is a Techmarine of the Adeptus Mechanicus, assigned to the 7th Founding not out of mercy but out of urgent necessity. His true name consists of guild numbers that no one here can pronounce. He answers to Benno. He has four arms—two organic, two mechadendrite—and no visible scruple when working with either kind. His left cheek has been replaced by a burn scar that looks like polished steel. A soldier once asked him whether it hurt. He answered: "The flesh hurts. The metal remembers." He repairs the Basilisks not out of love for the machines, but out of a conviction that every gun destroyed without having been of use is a personal failure. That makes him unbearable to the soldiers who work beside him. That makes him indispensable.

Attached Personnel

SpecialistNumber
Commissars (under Lord Commissar Hallbrand)7
Sanctioner Psyker (of the Scholastica Psykana)1
Field priests / Preachers4
Adeptus Mechanicus technicians4
Menials & assistants of the Ecclesiarchy23
Ogryns (auxiliaries)2 squads (16 fighters)
Ratlings (scouts)3 individuals

The commissars number seven—a marked excess for a regiment of this strength, but it is the result of the Munitorum classifying the Fen Guard as highly "morally vulnerable", a classification that stems from the treachery of the 6th Founding. Every fourth soldier has a commissar within reach. This does not create trust—it creates a useful paranoia, a behavioural discipline that grows from fear rather than conviction. The tension is visible at meals, when commissars and soldiers stand close together without speaking.

The Ogryns do not come from Brakmoor—they come from Grimmfenn, a Death World breeding programme that the Adeptus Mechanicus began twenty years ago. They are dim, huge, and loyal from a source that is not reason. They are employed for heavy labour, not for combat. One of the two squads has been kept under heightened guard since the mutiny of M41.5, after one of them killed an ammunition technician with his bare grip—not out of malice, but from the misunderstanding of an order.

The Regimental Standard

The standard is a length of cloth, sixteen metres long, of vulcanised promethium weave, steel-grey, on which the honour-numerals of all seven Foundings are embroidered in silver thread. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd Foundings have no records—the cloths they carried burned with them. The 4th, 5th and 6th are recorded on it. The 7th has only an empty field left; this is intentional. When the 7th Founding dies, the next Founding, if there is one, will enter its name there.

The standard was almost lost in M41.5, on the withdrawal from Schlackmar, when the bearer unit was surrounded. A soldier, a Ratling named Pyrev, hid the cloth beneath the corpses of three Ogryn auxiliaries and played dead while the green wave washed past. Twenty-four hours later the cloth was found. Pyrev survived. This has not been especially rewarded—it is merely a fact the Fen Guard knows. If the standard is still there, something is still there.

The Flaw

The flaw

The 6th Founding of the Fen Guard was torn apart in M41.2 on suspicion of cultist contamination. The suspicion came from an Inquisitor named Thrace—a routine inspection, a cursory investigation, and suddenly four hundred soldiers were placed under arrest. Three hundred of them were acquitted. One hundred were not. That is not the shame—the shame is that the hundred executed soldiers were later certified innocent, after Thrace had been transferred from her post.

The survivors of the 6th Founding were counted into the 7th. They bore a stain that no one spoke of. A man who had stayed out overnight was always suspected. A woman who had spent too long with the weapon technicians was written up. In battle the mistrust became a weapon—an NCO of the suspected units was sent to dangerous tasks more often, sooner than was just, not out of malice, but out of the unconscious belief that a suspected person is worth less when serving as cannon fodder.

In the transports it shows in the fact that suspected soldiers always have a commissar in line of sight, even at night. They sleep less well, not because commissars inspire fear, but because the presence of a commissar means one is being watched. On a ship that is not going home, that is a kind of public death.

In battle the stain shows in the fact that suspected units are rarely supported when things get tight. That is not deliberate punishment—it is prioritisation. Resources are scarce. A battalion under suspicion is worth less in the officers' calculations, even if no officer would say so openly. That has not killed many. It has made very many shrink.

The Fen Guard itself says nothing publicly about the stain. There is only the silent understanding that a certain group of soldiers does not belong to the trust, and that this trust may never return, even if innocence were proven. As for other regiments that fought alongside the Fen Guard—it quickly became known that the green guard carried a risk of mutiny. That has been spread. That has never been forgiven.

A Munitorum Failure

In M41.4 the Departmento Munitorum sent the 7th Founding a resupply shipment coded for frost gear—thick wool coats, thermite blankets, winter boots. That year the Fen Guard was fighting on Schlackmar, a lava plain with surface temperatures above sixty degrees Celsius. The shipment arrived. The shipment was not distributed—there was no use for it. It sat in transport holds while soldiers in light uniforms burned.

An ammunition officer, Captain Vhen (now dead, fallen at Feldhain in M41.6), requested a new shipment. The request was submitted in M41.4. The approval came in M41.6, sent to a different location. The soldiers who should have carried the document had by then fallen or been rendered medically unfit. The loss of the document is a red note in the Munitorum register for the Fen Guard. This red note has never been explained.

The consequence is that no resupply request from the Fen Guard is trusted and classed as a priority, whether the request is rational or not. Duplicate requests are discarded. Urgent requests are delayed for review. In three years this has cost more soldiers than the wrong gear. It is not being corrected.

Known Campaigns

Campaigns

Name Reconquest of Grimmfenn

Epoche c. 238.M41

Erzählung

Time: M41.2–M41.4, one and a half years · Theatre: Dead world Grimmfenn, southern continents · Enemy: Orks, Nob armada under Wummtrogg Zwo · Duration: 16 months

The Fen Guard was part of a flotilla of seven regiments—the Fen Guard as artillery, two infantry regiments from Ophilia VII, a tank company from Olvenmark, an aircraft squadron without a name, and two support logistics units. The plan of operations was simple: the Orks out of the industrial ring first, artillery bombardment of the hive structures, ground penetration with infantry. That was the plan. The plan burned down in the third month.

Wummtrogg Zwo was not an ordinary Ork tide—it was an agglomeration of five older armadas, formed together in one of the larger invasions since M39. The Orks were too numerous to be crushed. The artillery bombarded, but Orks are hard to bear. After nine months the Fen Guard had fired four hundred shells per day and gained barely any ground. The infantry stayed stuck in tortoise formations. The tanks were overrun by Ork rollers.

In the tenth month came a commissar's order: the Fen Guard was to fire a direct salvo on a group of positions in which twenty Ophilia infantrymen were crouching, unable to move. The Orks were a hundred metres away. A colonel of the Ophilia asked Senior Master Eckhart to miss with the salvo. That has not been documented in writing. It has not needed to be documented in writing—Eckhart fired. The salvo killed the twenty infantrymen and ninety-eight Orks. Three of the infantrymen survived wounded. None of them was ever requested as an infantryman again.

The course of the war ended in "attrition to stagnation"—a military euphemism for "we are too tired to fight, and the enemy no less." Wummtrogg Zwo withdrew into the inner wilderness. The Fen Guard withdrew into the port city to resupply. The position was termed "stabilised" and not "secured."

Allied regiments: Ophilia VII (infantry), Olvenmark Tank Company (plasteel and fury), aircraft squadron [name unclear, register lost]. The Ophilia VII lost eight hundred soldiers in this campaign. The relationship with the Fen Guard never became normal afterwards. During resupply the regiments ate separately. In camp they did not speak. In the report afterwards the Ophilia commissar listed the Fen Guard as "capable but unreliable"—the code for "artillery that targets allied infantry when required." That is a stain that does not sit as deep as the cultist suspicion, but remains long enough to destroy trust. The Fen Guard still see this campaign today when they hear the names.

Casualty record: 187 fallen, 312 wounded, 4 Basilisks lost (one converted into a demolition charge), 23 mortar positions overrun and evacuated.

Name Defence of Schlackmar

Epoche c. 547.M41

Erzählung

Time: M41.5–M41.6, ten months · Theatre: Lava Plain of Schlackmar, Southern Archipelago · Enemy: Orks, the last remnants of Waaagh Wummtrogg and three new invasion waves · Duration: 10 months

After the fall of Grimmfenn the Fen Guard was too weak for major operations. It was assigned to the fight for Schlackmar—a ruined trade colony on a neighbouring world. The objective was simple: repel the Orks, hold the colony until reinforcements arrived. It was a rest posting. It was a mistake.

Three invasion waves came one after another: the first small, a tactical probe; the second larger, a serious offensive; the third a flood that could not be counted. The Fen Guard bombarded each of them with artillery that was worn out and could no longer be resupplied with ammunition, because the supply line had been cut. By the eighth month regimental strength had fallen to five hundred and fifty. One battalion was disbanded and integrated into another regiment—for the first time the Fen Guard truly grew smaller. Three other regiments were also there: the Kessler-Garde from Olvenmark, the Funkenhüter from Noctis Aeterna (a flamer regiment that covered small withdrawals), and two unnamed infantry detachments.

The Funkenhüter died almost to a man—three hundred and ninety-one casualties in total out of four hundred and nine requisitioned. That was the visible catastrophe. The Fen Guard watched it, day after day, and fired shells without counting its own dead. A commissar of the Funkenhüter later became legendary because he defended one of the last fire positions with four living soldiers and two dead, before an Ork creature broke through the position and tore him apart. The site is called "the Last Service", undefeated in the local records, because the Orks did not hold the hill.

In the ninth month the order to withdraw came. The positions were evacuated. A company of the Kessler-Garde was left behind—not as a sacrifice, but through a logistical error in the evacuation. A transport ship was not sent to the coordinates. A company was forgotten. They were still fighting when the Fen Guard lifted off. No reserve tank battalion was available to retrieve them—the tanks had been ordered in another direction. This has not been mentioned in the reports.

Allied Regiments: Kessler-Garde (infantry from Olvenmark, later largely destroyed), Funkenhüter of Noctis Aeterna (flamer regiment, almost annihilated), nameless infantry detachments. The Funkenhüter were not re-formed after this campaign. The register reads "DISSOLVED — losses unsustainable — survivors in reservist status". In administrative language this means the survivors were sent to camps on worlds of no significance. These survivors no longer appear in active records. The Fen Guard knows this. It also knows that the Funkenhüter would still have been calling for artillery had the evacuation come later—calling with the pauses between words that only a unit in complete disintegration makes. No guilt was recorded. It was a choice between two destructions.

Personnel Tally: 211 killed, 156 wounded, 6 Basilisks lost in combat or degraded, 18 mortars rendered unusable.

Name Holding on Brakmoor Essay

Epoche c. 662.M41

Erzählung

Time: M41.6–M41.7, fifteen months · Theatre: Home world Brakmoor, inner ring, salt-flood industrial sector · Enemy: Remnants of Waaagh Wummtrogg, cultists of the symbiont cults, unknown third party · Duration: 15 months

The Fen Guard was finally called home—not to rest, but to defend. The home world was under attack by Orks and something worse that the Munitorum reports did not name. The 7th Founding was to take over a defensive position around the saltworks complexes. That meant: Brakmoor was defending itself.

The first problem was that there was no 7th Founding any more. The 7th Founding had been dissolved in M41.6 on grounds of "resource optimisation"—a code for "you are too small to stand alone." The 344 surviving fighters were consolidated into one company and half of another. They were attached to a "battle group" consisting of the 3rd Founding of the Brakmoor armoured unit, two detachments of infantry of unknown origin, and a priest battalion of the Ecclesiarchy.

The defence was a mortar duel in the salt floods. The Orks came in waves. The symbiont cults came through the underhive tunnels that no one had mapped well. The "unknown third party" revealed itself as three figures that were neither Orks nor humans: Aeldari warriors who, for reasons never communicated, were also bombarding the saltworks. The battle group fired on everything, because it was not clear what was enemy and what was merely competition for the same sector.

After some months it became clear that the battle group had lost. The saltworks fell. The defence withdrew into the hive city. Underground, the infantry detachments waged a war against the symbiont cults whose end no one could foresee. One tank commander grew so desperate that he refused to acknowledge an order and drove his tank into a symbiont cavern to destroy the brood chambers. The tank exploded. The tank commander died. In the local records this is named a "sacrifice attack", a kind of ritual code resembling a ship's captain who drives his ship into a fleet. It was probably not a choice—it was probably desperation with a name.

After fifteen months an order came that no one had expected: the battle group was to evacuate to the fleet reserve. That meant: the battle group would leave the area. That meant: Brakmoor would fight alone against the Orks and cultists. That meant: the home world would lose unless reinforcements came, and reinforcements were not in sight.

The evacuation proceeded in confusion. The 3rd Armoured Founding lost two tanks during the withdrawal (presumably fired upon by uncoordinated infantry units, unclear). The infantry detachments were distributed across three different transport ships—an error that meant three regimental numbers existed, each without the others. The Fen Guard—what was left of it—was gathered on a ship whose name the soldiers were not told. The ship did not sail to a new war zone. The ship sailed in an unknown direction.

Allied Regiments: Brakmoor 3rd Armoured Founding (home armour, later fragmented and placed in reservist status), unknown infantry detachments (possibly four, possibly three, the records contradicted one another). One of these detachments was re-formed shortly afterwards, renamed the "Brakmoor-Reserve-Kolonne" and then transferred to another flotilla. The Fen Guard has not seen this detachment again. Nor has it seen Brakmoor again.

Personnel Tally: 89 killed, 64 wounded, 2 Basilisks irretrievably lost in battle, 7 mortar positions abandoned. The ship on which the Fen Guard was evacuated is registered in the Munitorum archive as "stranded in warp disturbance" in M41.7. That was ten months ago. The ship is listed as missing.

Vehicle livery

How the regiment’s vehicles are painted: base colour, camouflage for the theatre, turret band and markings, derived from the regimental colours.

7. Fen Guard312
Battle tank 312, 3rd Company
7. Fen Guard
Transport
7. Fen Guard
Walker
7. Fen Guard
Super-heavy
TheatreHive and city · Splinter camouflage
Base colour #697068 · Dawnstone (Field grey uniform)
Camouflage #6B7072 · The Fang (theatre standard)
#3E4346 · Mechanicus Standard Grey (theatre standard)
Turret band #000000 · Abaddon Black (Promethium black)
Markings #DADDDF · Stormhost Silver (Silver insignia)
Hull recipeDawnstone (Base) · Nuln Oil (Shade) · Administratum Grey (Layer) · Deepkin Flesh (Edge)

Company bands on the turret

  1. 1.
  2. 2.
  3. 3.
  4. 4.
  5. 5.
  6. 6.
  7. 7.
  8. 8.
  9. 9.

Derived from the regimental colours; the silhouettes are our own sketches, not copies of any Games Workshop model.

On the core data

The low number (7th founding) marks one of the longest-fighting units of its kind, whose homeworld Brakmoor supplies soldiers without cease—not out of patriotism, but because the world itself can no longer sustain any economy other than the mustering-out of its people.

This regiment has been disbanded and refounded nine times between M38 and M41.7. Four of those times through combat losses, four through administrative errors, once through deliberate destruction following suspected contamination by cultists. The present fighters inherit honours whose original bearers are in truth all dead—the oldest living soldier knows none of the battles in which "his" regiment took the field. Some sing the old songs nonetheless. Some refuse.

Carry on with this regiment