Tigranes' body screamed its weariness to him as the former miner awoke. Ignoring the dull aches and tiredness that seeped his form as he carefully checked his meager belongings to ensure nothing had been stolen. Petty thievery was an endemic problem during his days back in Hayk, it would be incredibly naive to assume that a Penal Legion wouldn't suffer from the same malaise. Upon finding out that there wasn't anything amiss (and how could it be, when Tigranes pretty much cuddled his bag every night to ensure nothing would mysteriously disappear come next morning) he put on his boots and flak armor with practiced smoothness. 

	He exited the dugout with shovel in hand and his lascarbine shouldered. Leaving the gun where it could be easily reached in case of heretic attack, the Legionnaire busied himself with digging, hoping that this time they would get to stay in this position for a little while. Though, truth be told, the digging didn't really bother him that much. He had grown used to it far before he ever ended up in redemption. He had been born in a miner family, after all, and if it weren't for the civil war back home he would've lived out the rest of his days digging new veins of rich minerals and carrying cartloads of valuable ore back to the surface. And then at the end of the day return to wife and kids. Maybe he would've managed to marry that pretty shepherdess and...

	He shook the thoughts away. No matter how much he disciplined his mind, Tigranes never managed to chase these daydreams away entirely. Contemplating them would do no good. Only weaken his resolve as he longed for something he would not and could never have. Instead, he struck the earth with increased resolve and force, as if beating the dirt into submission would help him focus on the task at hand.