AN IMPERIAL GUARD COMEDY
With a roar, the guardsmen erupted over their trench like a tide of Imperial righteousness, lasrifles hurling beams of burning death towards the approaching Ork horde.
The greenskins responded with defiant bellows, returning fire with their shootas as they pounded across the distance between them and the humans.
The two armies collided, man and ork battling to gain ground amidst the churned mud of the crater strewn battlefield, countless numbers from each army falling to die beneath the feet of their fellows.
On a hillock behind the trench lines of the Imperial Guard, the glint of field glass lenses marked the position of an engrossed observer.
“Oh, there he is! I can see his scarf!”
Juliana bounced excitedly in her folding chair, almost knocking her iced tea from the table with a kick from one of her expensive high heels.
Still holding up a pair of high-powered yet dainty binoculars, she flicked her immaculately styled hair away from her face, revealing features too smooth and perfect to be natural.
It paid to be the wife of an officer.
“It’s such a nice scarf, pure silk,” she continued, “I do hope he keeps it clean.”
Beside her, sitting in a slightly less expensive folding chair and wielding a somewhat uglier pair of binoculars, Krista peered at the ongoing battle, scanning the carnage for her own husband. She spotted him amongst the throng, recognising the gleam of the new Armandi branded cufflinks recently brought from the regiments’ luxury merchant.
“There’s my pooky,” she said, “Those cufflinks really bring out the colour of his uniform.”
The third woman making up their group crossed her stocking-clad long legs, paying more attention to the copy of Fad displayed on the gold-trimmed pict-slate resting across her lap.
The gold letters hanging round her throat proclaimed her name to be Chancel, the necklace one of the young prostitute’s many gifts from her officer client.
“Um, hi Juliana, hi Krista, hi Chancel. Sorry I’m late.”
Julian and Krista lowered their binoculars and looked as one at the nervous female standing respectfully to one side. Chancel continued to read about the latest Terran fashions, ignoring the newcomer.
The woman was wearing a knock-off Gukki dress and heels, sinking slowly in to the mud as she waited for a reply while anxiously twiddling with one of her massive hoop earrings.
Juliana attempted to raise an eyebrow contemptuously, but found herself unable to due to the extensive rotox injections smoothing her forehead. She settled instead for turning up her surgically perfected nose before replying.
“That’s quite alright, Loraine.” she sneered, daintily raising her drink, careful to sip from the glass without spoiling her lipstick. “But just so you know, for the next battle, the Officers Ladies meet on time, every time.”
Krista copied Juliana’s sneer, as always striving to be a clone of the Regiments’ First Lady and snapping her fingers rudely in Loraine’s direction, making the extensive collection of gold bangles adorning her wrists jingle.
“Sorry,” Loraine replied while tilting her new handbag, trying to get the two women to notice the Trada logo on the enormous clasp. “Won’t happen again.”
As the wife of a newly promoted officer, and the junior member of the Ladies, Loraine was relegated to sitting on a picnic blanket beside the cooler chest, but she didn’t care.
The excitement of being one of the Ladies more then compensated for the bumpiness of the ground.
Fishing around in her bag, Loraine pulled out a battered pair of standard issue field glasses. Looking through them, careful not to snag her ridiculous false eyelashes, she scanned the melee for her husband.
There he was, wildly stabbing a nasty looking Ork in the neck with his bayonet.
Smiling, Loraine lowered her binoculars and pulled out a family bag of potato chips. Opening the packet, she held it out towards Chancel.
“Would you like a chip?” she asked, “They are Cheese and Chive flavour.”
The prostitute shook her head, not taking her eyes from the agony aunt section on her pict-slate for one second.
“No thanks, babe,” she replied, “I ate yesterday. Can’t be snacking between meals.” She glanced at Loraine for a moment before adding. “We can’t all carry off the plump look like you can, babe.”
Unsure if she had just been insulted, Loraine smiled weakly. Sitting quietly with the potato chips on her lap, she idily tugged at the hem of her dress as the other Ladies continued with their battle vigil or reading about the latest gossip from the Eye of Terror.
A gasp from Juliana made the other members of the Officers Ladies jump and they turned to the suddenly distressed woman
“Good lord, one of those green monsters has just bitten my Jeremy’s arm off!” exclaimed Juliana, who leapt to her feet in anger.
“Is he ok?” asked Loraine, who was now picking potato chips from her hair and bosom.
“Who gives a stuff about him,” replied Juliana. “The bloody scarf is ruined! That’s Dulchi and Gobblana that is!"”
Crit and Comment appreciated
Last edited by greywulf; 02-02-10 at 09:42 AM.