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Well after reading some fantastic fluff here, i decided to try and write my own. now ive never done anything like this before so i hope its not too bad and you enjoy reading it. So without further ado;
Trooper Carsen was bored stiff, he’d been patrolling the warehouse for 2 hours now, looking for some small fry crook who’d apparently stolen some property from Governor Verendis. Carsen didn’t know the details but he wasn’t overly bothered by the whole thing, in all honesty any distraction on the hive world of Thraxus Prime was a welcome change, Thraxus was miles from any threat, and Carsen hadn’t seen the life of glorious battle promised when he joined the 57th Thraxan so far.
Trooper Hendrix strolled over, it was plain to see he was as bored as Carsen. “You got a cig?” he asked. Silently Carsen flipped him one of the lime green tubes.
“Thanks, Emperor knows I needed that. Standing around a warehouse the size of a hab block, looking for some bloke who’s pinched a pendant. What a fine life for a guardsmen eh?” Carsen just grunted, he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
“Sorry to interrupt your misery gentlemen, but could you please keep the comm. lines free? I hope you don’t mind but I’d rather listen out for Delta squad, not your pathetic mewling, OK?” Sergeant Johnson's harsh voice cut across the vox.
“Apologies sir, Still no word then?” questioned Hendrix.
“No trooper, I wouldn’t have been listening out for them otherwise would I? Now shut up.”
Hendrix grunted, “Kroot faced son of a grox” he muttered under his breath.
“Try turning your bead off first Trooper. Latrines for a month.” the sergeant replied coolly.
Carsen looked at his mate, a grin spreading over his face. “Ha ha its Thaxweed stew this week, you’re gonna enjoy that one.”
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. Oh that’s it, I need to take a leak, cover me if Johnson turns up.”
“We’re in a warehouse with crates everywhere, how the hell is he gonna see you?”
“Just do it.”
Hendrix stalked off, Thaxweed stew would make him smell so bad, it didn’t even bare thinking about. Everything had gone wrong today, and he hadn’t relieved himself since last night, he was desperate. Hendrix crouched behind a large crate and proceeded to drop his fatigues. Then he froze. He was squatting next to what could have passed for an abattoir. Delta squad lay scattered around him, arms legs and heads lay strewn everywhere, blood leaked on the floor and entrails coated a box of fruit.
Hendrix stabbed at his vox, his hands shaking so badly he missed several times and poked himself in the ear. When he did hit the button, he couldn’t speak.
“Oh…Oh emperor save us... Oh god whats happened?” he started to break down into sobs.
“Hendrix, that you? What the hells happened. Tell me NOW trooper” Johnson barked
“Oh no, its Delta, they’re all dead… oh ****” retching sounds could be heard over the network.
“Don’t move, you hear me Trooper!”
“Sarge, Sarge they’re in pieces, and I... OH EMPEROR PRESERVE ME, NO PLEASE!”
Horrific sounds like ripping through a slab of meat in butchers filled the vox. Howling screams of agony resounded in the ears of every man in the squad.
“Who’s with him? Answer me dammit, we have a problem!”
“Sir, it’s me Carson, I’m heading there now” Carson was already sprinting at top speed, towards where Hendrix had walked off, not 5 minutes earlier. A whirl of thoughts sped round his mind, he hoped his friend was alive, but deep down he knew Hendrix was dead. But what was out there, this was no crook, this thing had killed Hendrix, and the whole of Delta squad, without alerting anyone else and now, he was running towards it? Silently he cursed himself for complaining about the boredom.
Carson reached the crate Hendrix must have been behind, because the pool of crimson fluid was now leaking under the crates into a gory puddle on the floor. As if any more confirmation was needed, Hendrix’s severed head rolled out in front of him. The eyes of the head had been gouged out, leaving bloody mutilated sockets, the head was nearly unrecognisable.
Carson could hear scrabbling from behind the boxes in front of him, and against his better judgment advanced to the corner. Silently he peered round the corner. What he saw stunned him to his core. He recognised the beast as a tyranid, a Lictor, huge scythes longer than Carson’s body rested casually, next to a pair of savage claws tipped with razor sharp spikes. The head was round, with tendrils hanging down. Its back was facing Carson, and it was covered with red plates and sloped down into a spiked tail.
Carson stepped back in horror. His only thought was to run as fast as he could. Turning he started to sprint, then froze in absolute terror. A crack split the silence. Looking down, Carson saw Hendrix’s crushed skull under his boot. Carson couldn’t move. He heard the Lictor stalk round towards him, hissing like a thousand winged insects. As it poked its loathsome head round the crate, its malevolent eyes, completely alien, lit up with a definite glint of anger.
Suddenly it sprang up, on to the crates, and within a moment had vanished from view.
Carson turned on his heel and fled. He screamed into the vox, “SPOOK… by the throne it’s a spook, Sarge it’s a Lictor!” Running through the maze of boxes, Carson was horrified to hear the crashing of the Lictor following him, keeping up with ease.
“Carson meet up with the squad, we’re getting out of here. NOW” Ordered Johnson
“Yeah that sounds like a plan, 1 thing, HOW THE HELL DO I OUTRUN IT?” Carson snapped.
“Try moving faster.”
“Wow real helpful.”
Carson sprinted as fast as his legs could go, his body sending huge shots of adrenalin.
He was terrified, he felt sure this thing was going to rip him apart, without mercy, without thought, without a moments hesitation. The thumping noises kept pace behind him, the Lictor leaping across the warehouse like it was simply running over a field, the huge plastisteel containers providing nothing but a nuisance to it, so focused was it on the kill.
Carson weaved in and out, dodging round corners and between the boxes towering either side of him. Rounding a corner, Carson saw a crate had been toppled over and was lying on its side. Having no time to stop, he attempted to vault it instead. His hands however were so sweaty with fear he slipped. Crashing onto the steel floor, Carson new he had to do something. Groping blindly, his hand found his lasgun. Snatching it up, Carson span round and blazed wildly, not bothering to aim. Scarlet bolts of las fire streaked around the area, re-bounding off the crates and ceiling.
Carson continued to fire, for as long as he probably could, his finger was still pulling on the trigger long after the magazine ran out. Silence filled the warehouse; Carson could hear his heavy breathing resounding all around him. His vox chimed. Breaking the quiet.
“You alright trooper? We saw las streaks everywhere. Did you get it? Is it dead?”
“No Sarge, it ran. Ive lost it. Holy throne that was terrifying.”
“We’ve got a brief reprieve it seems. We run. NOW”
“I hear you.”
Carson had luck on his side for once that day, he found the remnants of his squad within a few minutes. The remaining two men looked petrified. Sweat bathed their faces and their limbs were shaking so hard it seemed the men would collapse at any moment. Johnson had a glowcig in his mouth and was looking decidedly perturbed.
“We have to get a distress signal out, now. Problem is we are never going to outrun that thing. We are going to have to kill it.”
The first trooper looked at him with absolute shock in his eyes.
“Kill it? We can’t kill it, we’re all doomed. That thing killed 6 of us without even trying. Are you insane?”
Johnson fixed him with a cold stare.
“Would you rather take your chances running?”
“Yeah I would. I have to escape, I can’t die here.” The trooper turned on his heel and ran towards an empty storage area, his lasgun flung down on the ground.
He got about 5 paces, before that hideous rattle started up once more. The fleeing guardsman stopped dead. Slowly, he looked up. His eyes widened with fear and his legs collapsed from under him. The Lictor dropped from the ceiling beam and fell talon first onto the hapless man. The huge scything arm cleaved the man from head to waist, and the halves of the dead man flopped down like the peel off a banana.
The second man raised his lasgun to his head. He stared forward like someone who was already dead. Shaking violently he whispered,
“I cant die like that. I cant, I just….I just can’t. Emperor protect me.”
He pulled the trigger, and crumpled like a sac of agri-crops.
The beast turned its malevolent eyes toward the remaining humans.
“Split up!” roared Johnson.
The sergeant run left, and Carson desperately dived right. For the briefest moment the beast was confused, but it soon worked out what the troopers were attempting to do.
With a spasm, the beast shot vicious barbed spikes toward the sergeant. As they flew through the air, Carson could hear the air parted by the savage tips. Glancing over at the sergeant, he saw the sergeant’s chest explode in a fountain of gore. Carson had to run, no-one else was left alive. Deep down, he knew he was doomed, but an urge compelled him to survive.
Turning on its hoof, the Lictor hurled the corpse of the dead sergeant at Carson. Johnson’s full weight slammed into Carson, knocking him off his feet. The Lictor leaped over to the pinned Carson, who was franticly trying to move the dead weight of his commander. The Lictor slowly prized off the corpse, before raising its talon and slamming it through Carson’s leg.
Carson screamed in agony, his nerves were on fire. Slowly the Lictor bent down over the stricken man. It probed at his skull with its tendrils. Carson squealed in terror. The Lictor found the spot it was looking for, and stabbed down, into Carson’s brain. Like slurping a milkshake through a straw, the beast sucked the poor mans brain out of his head. Carson slumped, his life utterly drained. The creature straightened itself up, its size only now apparent, it towered a good 9-10ft tall. It seemed impossible that something that size could move that fast, and yet remain so silent.
The Lictor turned over the information it had gleaned from Carson’s mind. It learned that the world it was on was called Thraxus Prime by the prey, that many billions of people lived there and that it was completely unprepared for an attack. Silently it sent a message to the Hive Fleet a mere few sectors away. Then it turned a murky shade if grey, and slunk away into the shadows.
thanks very much for taking the time to read this and i hope you enjoyed it
Last edited by Heirodule; October 3rd, 2009 at 18:08.
Your friendly neighbourhood gargantuan creature
Alright...nitpicky first, get it out of the way. Some grammar mistakes, run-ons and such. Even dialog needs to be punctuated.
Alright...on to the good part.
OHMYGOD that was awesome. Really well put together. I'm going to show this to a buddy of mine; a 'Nid player. He'll lol himself.
Terminator armor going critical would be like Three Mile Island only very, VERY angry, and carrying a hammer.
LO rules in a nutshell: Don't post unit costs, be polite, rep posts containing of win.
That was really good for a first effort! As rafis117 said, you need to watch your punctuation in some spots, but I really like this piece.
You've got some great dialogue between the troops, a bit of humour, and then the terror and action when they stumble across the Lictor. Nicely done!
Though I though the milkshake part was a little disturbing...
great to hear you liked it, ive gone over again and editited the grammer, it was pretty terrible actually. hopefully its better now.
Your friendly neighbourhood gargantuan creature