- Objectionable Content Warnings:
“There will come a day very soon where the futility of your existence becomes as apparent as a sledgehammer to the face. I always thought I would die as some haggard old veteran reclining in a neglected hab-stack, heart clogged with fat and chemicals. At least then I would have died happy. I thought I could walk down a thousand different paths and reach the same conclusion. I was looking forward to the days I could leave the Imperial Guard... I could have done so many things.
Back on my homeworld I longed to sea the azure seas on the golden southern coasts. I wanted to sea the last cetacean beasts that would breach the water for air. It would have been a fleeting experience, but I doubt you can imagine how much seeing these creatures right now would make me feel like I achieved something with my life.
I could have taken a wife and raised a family. I could have become a missionary of the Emperor's word and travelled with the Ecclisiarchy, spreading his glory. I could have worked in a manufactory packing munitions. With enough effort and time I could have made something of myself.
I think the worst part is that, now, all I can do is sit back and look at how I could have done any number of things to change the outcome. They say that flapping of an insect's wing can lead to a great storm; I find that funny. Oh how I would long for a storm. Nobody ever stops to wonder what happens if that insect decides not to beat its wings. It stays on its leaf, content with the present and worried about damaging the future. Little does it realise that being idle is what is ruining its future.
That insect will never move from its leaf. It will never find a mate. It will never search for anything different than the humble existence that it has known for what feels like an eternity. The storm will never happen and the insect will note how little it means in the universe. I always find it amusing that we imagine ourselves, as humans, to be high and mighty. We look down on the insect for its simplicity yet we are merely hypocritical. This universe is endless and we are confined to one galaxy. Maybe if humanity as a whole was more active and took more risks we would not be confined to our galaxy as the insect is confined to its leaf or how I am confined to this existence.
Despite a life of idleness and anxiety, however, I do still have one decision left to make. My platoon was taken by these sick xenos in much a similar fashion, I imagine, as to how you arrived here. If you don't know why you are here then I shall enlighten you. We are playthings. We are to be shepherded into an arena and cut down for the amusement of the masses. How I came across such knowledge is irrelevant now, but I seek to share my mindset with you.
To whomever is reading this you now have but two options. We could have lived out lives very differently, but that matters not. You are doomed to be extinguished soon. You can stand and fight in their arenas, or you can finally be strong enough to be the only person to have control over what remains of your life.
I'm not sure which you will pick, but I am certain of my existence, at last.”
--Text entry discovered in the data slate of a hanged Sergeant Burr Delvoss