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Description
I really never understood the Catachans. Tall, muscular, and the anger of a grox times ten. Great warriors, but lousy with conversations. I first met Crawley on Sigma Tarturus, the Catachan; I was part of the 89th Panzer Grenadiers and him from 23rd Catachan regiment. Our objective was to halt a Tyranid assault on a vital research station. We took the front and rear position's while those brutes took the flanks. I don't want to bore you with the monotonous details of the slaughter of our forces, but somehow we made it, I on the other hand got a very serious scratch on my Lucius Pattern lasgun, damn that Tyranid warrior. It was a forest world; trees upon trees upon blasted tree covered this rock. I really don't understand why us, the 89th Panzer Grenadiers were sent to a location where roads were basically absent, but that's Imperial Intelligence for you. My newly acquainted friend and I made our way towards another research station that pretty much had the bulk of our forces. Seeing as that we're they luckiest sons-of-bitches in the galaxy, the Emperor and his infallible glory made the research station about hundred klicks west of our current position. I came from Krieg, a world that's riddled with radiation and the utmost bleakness; it kind of reminded me of this galaxy, but without the radiation.
We've been walking for hours under the dense canopy. We got ambushed six times in our little adventure in the bush, but on the last attack, Crawley tore through this grey brute with his multimelta, he was pissed that I didn't fire my weapon, but sorry but this idiot of a brute clad in green camo and red headband was in my way. Birds chirped and little buggers scurried about as we bulldozed through their little habitat, well I should say Crawley bulldozed while I just marched like a good little Krieger. We really haven't heard any creatures from Emperor know where and neither saw them either for some time now, but I and I assume Crawley too felt the eyes of some malevolent fiend. Nevertheless we treaded on, our boots squished and sunk into quagmire's that strewn about like some Emperor forsaken golf course. 'Do you smell that?' Crawley asked me as he crouched low to the ground, his eyes tighten and squint into the darkness of the underbrush. 'No, I really can't smell anything through this gas mask. But what is it? I replied and crouched as well, I raise my lasgun, pressing the synthetic wood stock tight in my shoulder. I try to peer into the abyss of the brush but I couldn't. The Catachan sense of smell and sight in enclosed thick jungle-type spaces were a sight to see. They looked like some feral beast from the plains Setra Sigmus. A pretty remarkable killer that really had no brains to speak of, but pure anger and cunning, just like a Catachan. I opted for a rest, I just assumed the big guy was having a hallucination from the immense heat that's been building up in the midday sun. 'Crawley, I think we should rest and have a drink. Sound good?' he looked angry (not that unusual for their kind) and nodded. I took my canteen out and took a swig of some precious water. And then I began cleaning my weapon.
A twig snapped behind us, our heads turned and our weapons were raised except for mine because he laid in pieces on a cleaning cloth, but I did get my laspistol out. 'Stay here' Crawley whispered as I kept my eyes towards the location of the snap. Crawley vanished like some specter that lived in the woods. My finger was on the trigger, waiting for whatever lunged from the unknown, I eased my breathing into light inhales and final stream of steadied breaths. I was taught to fight shoulder to shoulder with my Krieg brothers, to stand tall in the face of death and then kill death itself and then impale its body on a banner that would valiantly flutter in the breeze. Unfortunately, I wasn't with my brothers, I was with an idiot that tarzaned his way into the bush with a two foot blade. Unbeknownst to me, a Termagant was just mere feet from. Thankfully it made a rooky mistake, it gnarled. I turned, my grey and black uniform stood out like a sore them, and I was an easy target in the world that's pretty much green and green. Drool dangled from its maw and razor sharp teeth glistened in the minute rays. It didn't have a melee weapon, thank the Emperor for that! But it did have some scientific experiment gone wrong weapon that was evolved into its arm. It charged, tearing up the ground as it went, bushes and a small tree were ripped from its roots. It howled in its vile tongue (probably calling in reinforcements, this species is know to hunt in groups, why was it alone? Recon?). I was calm and ready, or I at least I think I was, I fired threw lances into it. Two struck and the other went far right. It didn't even flinch, it jumped onto me. Its foul smelly drool dripped all over my tunic, bastard. I fired three more shots point black into its abdomen, and still nothing. It tried biting my head off, but I squirmed and wriggled my way free and fired another four shots into the beast. All struck home and it started to cry out in pain, I tried firing again but it wouldn't. Damn thing, I threw it to the ground and pulled out my trench knife, what a beaut. Ten inches long, a six inch double adamatium blade. The grip was made of ten segments of black onyx stone. I thrusted into the beasts' mouth, the blade tore through ligaments, muscle, tissue and I think an artery (this black ichor, wreaking of the most foul began pouring out). It howled once more in pain and then died; I began repeatedly stabbing it until I was sure it was dead. And I heard the voice I will later to regret to know, 'what happened here?'
I looked at him, just shocked at the stupid question. If he could see my face then maybe he would've known how I was feeling. 'What happened? What happened, are you seriously asking me that? A damn Termagant attacked me while you went to go look for whatever made that noise' I said in anger, 'what did you find? A creature that's hell-bent on devouring us?'
He was flabbergasted that I spoke to him like that, his hulking body tightened as if he was going to strike me down, but he didn't, he just smiled and said 'I found dinner, you bastard.'
This is going to be a horrible friendship….

Description
I really never understood the Catachans. Tall, muscular, and the anger of a grox times ten. Great warriors, but lousy with conversations. I first met Crawley on Sigma Tarturus, the Catachan; I was part of the 89th Panzer Grenadiers and him from 23rd Catachan regiment. Our objective was to halt a Tyranid assault on a vital research station. We took the front and rear position's while those brutes took the flanks. I don't want to bore you with the monotonous details of the slaughter of our forces, but somehow we made it, I on the other hand got a very serious scratch on my Lucius Pattern lasgun, damn that Tyranid warrior. It was a forest world; trees upon trees upon blasted tree covered this rock. I really don't understand why us, the 89th Panzer Grenadiers were sent to a location where roads were basically absent, but that's Imperial Intelligence for you. My newly acquainted friend and I made our way towards another research station that pretty much had the bulk of our forces. Seeing as that we're they luckiest sons-of-bitches in the galaxy, the Emperor and his infallible glory made the research station about hundred klicks west of our current position. I came from Krieg, a world that's riddled with radiation and the utmost bleakness; it kind of reminded me of this galaxy, but without the radiation.
We've been walking for hours under the dense canopy. We got ambushed six times in our little adventure in the bush, but on the last attack, Crawley tore through this grey brute with his multimelta, he was pissed that I didn't fire my weapon, but sorry but this idiot of a brute clad in green camo and red headband was in my way. Birds chirped and little buggers scurried about as we bulldozed through their little habitat, well I should say Crawley bulldozed while I just marched like a good little Krieger. We really haven't heard any creatures from Emperor know where and neither saw them either for some time now, but I and I assume Crawley too felt the eyes of some malevolent fiend. Nevertheless we treaded on, our boots squished and sunk into quagmire's that strewn about like some Emperor forsaken golf course. 'Do you smell that?' Crawley asked me as he crouched low to the ground, his eyes tighten and squint into the darkness of the underbrush. 'No, I really can't smell anything through this gas mask. But what is it? I replied and crouched as well, I raise my lasgun, pressing the synthetic wood stock tight in my shoulder. I try to peer into the abyss of the brush but I couldn't. The Catachan sense of smell and sight in enclosed thick jungle-type spaces were a sight to see. They looked like some feral beast from the plains Setra Sigmus. A pretty remarkable killer that really had no brains to speak of, but pure anger and cunning, just like a Catachan. I opted for a rest, I just assumed the big guy was having a hallucination from the immense heat that's been building up in the midday sun. 'Crawley, I think we should rest and have a drink. Sound good?' he looked angry (not that unusual for their kind) and nodded. I took my canteen out and took a swig of some precious water. And then I began cleaning my weapon.
A twig snapped behind us, our heads turned and our weapons were raised except for mine because he laid in pieces on a cleaning cloth, but I did get my laspistol out. 'Stay here' Crawley whispered as I kept my eyes towards the location of the snap. Crawley vanished like some specter that lived in the woods. My finger was on the trigger, waiting for whatever lunged from the unknown, I eased my breathing into light inhales and final stream of steadied breaths. I was taught to fight shoulder to shoulder with my Krieg brothers, to stand tall in the face of death and then kill death itself and then impale its body on a banner that would valiantly flutter in the breeze. Unfortunately, I wasn't with my brothers, I was with an idiot that tarzaned his way into the bush with a two foot blade. Unbeknownst to me, a Termagant was just mere feet from. Thankfully it made a rooky mistake, it gnarled. I turned, my grey and black uniform stood out like a sore them, and I was an easy target in the world that's pretty much green and green. Drool dangled from its maw and razor sharp teeth glistened in the minute rays. It didn't have a melee weapon, thank the Emperor for that! But it did have some scientific experiment gone wrong weapon that was evolved into its arm. It charged, tearing up the ground as it went, bushes and a small tree were ripped from its roots. It howled in its vile tongue (probably calling in reinforcements, this species is know to hunt in groups, why was it alone? Recon?). I was calm and ready, or I at least I think I was, I fired threw lances into it. Two struck and the other went far right. It didn't even flinch, it jumped onto me. Its foul smelly drool dripped all over my tunic, bastard. I fired three more shots point black into its abdomen, and still nothing. It tried biting my head off, but I squirmed and wriggled my way free and fired another four shots into the beast. All struck home and it started to cry out in pain, I tried firing again but it wouldn't. Damn thing, I threw it to the ground and pulled out my trench knife, what a beaut. Ten inches long, a six inch double adamatium blade. The grip was made of ten segments of black onyx stone. I thrusted into the beasts' mouth, the blade tore through ligaments, muscle, tissue and I think an artery (this black ichor, wreaking of the most foul began pouring out). It howled once more in pain and then died; I began repeatedly stabbing it until I was sure it was dead. And I heard the voice I will later to regret to know, 'what happened here?'
I looked at him, just shocked at the stupid question. If he could see my face then maybe he would've known how I was feeling. 'What happened? What happened, are you seriously asking me that? A damn Termagant attacked me while you went to go look for whatever made that noise' I said in anger, 'what did you find? A creature that's hell-bent on devouring us?'
He was flabbergasted that I spoke to him like that, his hulking body tightened as if he was going to strike me down, but he didn't, he just smiled and said 'I found dinner, you bastard.'
This is going to be a horrible friendship….