Hi everyone, I am new here, but I thought I'd post my army fluff/fan fiction. Comments are welcome!

If this is the wrong section could one of the veterans please point me in the right direction? Without further ado, here it is.



He knew that they had little chance for survival. They had lost any ability to communicate with the rest of the imperial forces. As a result, he was skeptical, at best, that anyone in the orbiting fleet knew they were alive. Before Captain Garen’s communications officer was torn limb from limb by genestealers, the soldiers had received report that hive fleet Jormungund was destroyed in orbit and their position would be reinforced.

That was three days ago. Three days of almost nonstop fighting took its toll. His soldiers were exhausted. Could anyone expect more? After all, they weren’t Space Marines. The shouting of several of the conscripts snapped Garen back to the battle at hand. More Tyranids were attacking.

Almost rising above the hisses of lasgun fire and deafening explosions, were the sounds of a hundred skittering gaunts. A wave of chitin and bone, it swept towards the battered entrenchment, oblivious to the heavy bolter shells that cut the bugs down like wheat. As the surviving gaunts leap into the trenches, soldiers beset them with knives, bayonets, and whatever other close combat weapons were available. Fear of the aliens and fear of death kept the soldiers fighting to their last breaths. Within moments the gaunts were butchered and the soldiers could breathe a sigh of relief.

Barring a bad shoulder wound to one of the conscripts, the soldiers were largely unharmed. However, they had little time to celebrate their triumph. Captain Garen stared in disbelief as four Carnifexes lumbered towards their battered trenches. Running alongside the monstrosities were numerous six armed demons with blood red carapaces.

“Genestealers!? shouted a frightened conscript. Garen rallied his soldiers and shouted orders to the fire teams to lay down fire patterns that would cause the most damage to the incoming wave. With everyone already on edge all they could do was hope that their remaining guns could stop this assault. It was then that the gargoyles dropped from the sky. As the leathery winged monstrosities began their slaughter, chaos erupted across the trenches. Their morale shattered, the men and women of the 115th Tangrene irregulars broke. Refugee, conscript, and soldier alike fled the trenches in a screaming panic.


Meanwhile, in what used to be the palatial estate of the planetary governor, Grandmaster Roark was thrown through a wall into the governor’s kitchen. While his powerful conversion field protected him from any physical damage, the strength of the blow was incredible. That Hive Tyrant was monstrously powerful and it knew that its life would end shortly. Pulling himself up from the crumbled ruins of the governor’s kitchen counter, Roark shook the dirt from his robes. With almost a casual calm, he strode back into the dinning hall to face the cornered Tyrant.

The chitinous carapaces of Tyranid warriors, gaunts, and genestealers littered the floor, smoking from devastating assault cannons. In the corner stood Chief Librarian Calaway, his force sword held ready for combat, but his concentration was elsewhere; His duty was to counter the warp powers of the Hive Tyrant. The Librarian and the Beast battled for control on a Psychic level.

In the center of the room, the Hive Tyrant lashed out with desperation at the marines encircling it. Without its warp powers or any nearby minions to protect it, it had to fend for itself. The marines kept their distance striking with every opportunity in an attempt to wear the monster down. Sensing its demise, the Tyrant made its final attempted to break free. Bowling through two marines, it headed straight for Librarian Calaway. Company Champion Michael attempted to impede the Tyrant’s progress only to have his arm severed by its scything talons.

Calaway tightened his grip on the force sword and prepared for the brunt of the Tyrant’s charge. Time seemed to stop as their eyes met, the psyker and beast. Librarian Calaway’s eyes glowed with the Emperor-given powers of the warp; the Tyrant’s eyes glowed with the violent desperation of an eternal entity sensing its own demise. It was a scene upon which legends are made, a scene brutally disturbed by Grandmaster Roark.

Before the two met, a blast of plasma struck the side of the Tyrant’s head. Before the injured beast could turn to meet its new foe, Roark plunged his ancient sword, Harbinger, through the Tyrant’s chest. The beast continued to struggle despite its wounds. It knew its end was nigh, yet it was determined to end these insolent primates. It made one final attempt to injure the Marines before Librarian Calaway handily decapitated it.

“Of all the alien trash out there, I hate listening to the bugs the most,? muttered Calaway, “Even on the verge of death, its thoughts were still preoccupied with their breed of megalomania. Evolutionary pinnacle my eye…?
“Ha!? laughed Roark, “the Imperium would certainly be a droll place without you.? Patting his friend on the back, Roark then turned to the assembled troops. “Return to the Thunderhawks, there are servants of the Emperor that require our aide.? He hoped that the Emperor would give him the strength to reach them in time....