The Shining Paladins - Warhammer 40K Fantasy

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  1. #1
    Senior Member XV-88's Avatar
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    Well, my first thread has fallen to the second page, so here is all that I've doe so far.

    The Shining Paladins
    Jonah Crow looked deep into Ezekiel Forge’s eyes. There was no compassion there.
    “Well,? he said. “Then it is settled. Tomorrow, we take the planet IG-67 once and for all. We shall lance-strike the Chaos Palace, and your force will destroy the ritual on the eastern pole.?
    “In the almighty name of the Emperor, I am ready.?
    “Then tomorrow will be the last day of the poor people of IG-67’s fear and suffering. Now, rest, before the morrow.?
    Walking down the plasteel walkways of the Paladin’s Strike Vessel, Forge glanced at the walls, and even without his machine-spirit-aided vision, he could see that they were perfect. This never ceased to please him. They felt solid, an element mostly missing in the warp. Forge shivered. Forget. Forget. Forget... good. He continued until he found his chamber. Grand it was indeed. As all the men’s chambers were. A ship meant to hold 100 men in power armor, 25 Terminators, and 2 Dreadnoughts or Tanks was now holding 20 men in power armor, 4 Terminators, and 1 Dreadnought. Thus, the living, training, and working spaces could be increased, making for a more content crew. He rubbed his hands across the mahogany tables, admiring the intricate carvings of the birth of the Emperor, the building of humanity, and the Heresy. The daemonic carvings of the Heresy were shifting because of the proximity of warp holes, but by now he was used to it. At first he almost put a Psycannon bolt through the masterpiece. After thinking about the position he was in, and the inquisitorial-type actions he was about to do, he collapsed into a dreamless sleep.
    * * *
    The next morning was full of business. The noise of every Paladin waking at once was loud, but the morning meal was, like always, completely silent. Training this day would not happen, preparation, weapon and armor care would take its spot. All the suits of armor were taken from their cases, and all the Storm Bolters untethered from their shrines. The daily ritual of cleaning and inspecting the machinery and the machine spirit that they so trusted during battle was underway, and no interruptions could be made. All the crew were silently working on their bolters except for Crow, who was refilling the pyrum-petrol flasks on his hand meltas. The soul in the Dreadnought was double- and triple-checking Lascannon power and flexing its power fist. Soon, they were all ready and in lines.
    Both squads of ten Paladins each got a large Drop Pod, while the Dreadnought got its own and the commanders shared one. When everyone was loaded, the deck crew of the ship let the air out of the launching platform, and the engines ignited, sending the loyal Paladins to the loud and raucous surface of the Slaanesh-blighted planet.
    As the Marines braced for impact, Crow looked around. The Paladins were perfectly disciplined, all staring at an invisible point in the center of the pod. A tinny, metallic voice broke through the speakers, announcing that they would touch down in five minutes. Crow sat in awkward silence, wondering how the Paladins could not twitch, hurdling down to possible death. At exactly 30 seconds to impact, all of the internal clocks went off, and the Paladins tensed as one, bracing for impact. Crow was astonished, but the thought darted out of his head as he realized that they were about to hit the ground. A sudden *****ing marked impact, and the Paladins marched off the pod. They were fighting along side the Maroc Marauders, another Space Marine chapter that had podded at the same time. Three more drop pods and a shuttle holding the Marauders hit the soil, and shook it around them. As they all disembarked and lined up, Crow noticed for the first time that it was snowing. Quite fiercely now, as if the snow knew exactly where the Marines were. They broke into movement, trudging along in the deep snow drifts, not feeling the cold at all in their heated power armor.
    They set up camp after a day of walking, and the officers met in their section.

    “The records on this planet show no signs of storms like these, and there were none while we were on the Cruiser.?

    “Yes, that is why we marched south. We should be at about equator level right now.?

    “This is absurd! We should be out of this emperor-forsaken storm by now!?

    “We march east tomorrow. A four hour march should bring us to the outskirts of the capital, and two more after that will take us to the center, the location of the ritual.?

    “Good, let us rest. Tomorrow, we move out,?

    * * *

    After a long four hours, the Marauders and the Paladins saw what looked like a sheet of yellow approaching. As they got closer, they realized that it was the edge of the storm. A clear-cut edge. The storm just stopped on one side of the road. As they past, walking became easier. They looked back to see grey clouds and snow, but in the other direction, sunny skies. The town was utterly uninhabited, but dead bodies lied everywhere. The ominous feeling of a tear in the warp became stronger, bringing out worries and fear into the minds of the weak. As they neared the center of town, black appeared in the sky. Clouds were forming, and it started to rain. As they crossed a highway, a big one at that, eight large lanes, totaling about 100 feet, they saw a lone Chaos Noise Marine standing on the other side, perfectly still.

    “Speak, to show that you are alive.?

    No response. After five minute, Jonah Crow primed his jump pack and told Forge he was going over to inspect the marine. Before he even took a step, the noise Marine pointed his Sonic Blaster into the air, and let loose a blast of sound equal to the force of a plasma cannon. Suddenly, Chaos Marines were everywhere, swarming across the highway like beetles.

    “*****! Wasn’t expecting that!?

    The booming sound of bolters firing filled the air, and all that could be smelled was ozone and bolter propellant, and the air was fogged with smoke. The loyal Astartes Troops had fallen back behind the road; open space was not their specialty. The heretic pink troops ran madly forward, being mowed down, but by some unseen force, dragged to their feet to fight again. Force Commander Sanchez’s second in command trying to yell something at him when when his head exploded; he had been hit by a plasma bolt, yet the Commander didn’t even flinch. But it was like fighting the tide. The furious storm of pink and red poured into the trenches, slaughtering the Marines. The Force Commander and Grandmaster looked toward Crow. This was why he was hired. He was staring to the sky, praying to the Emperor, jump pack humming quietly. Heretics were charging at him from all side, but just as his soul was about to get released, his pack ignited, and the two hand meltas screamed silent death to the ground. The clump of Emperor’s Children that were there were now nothing more than piles of molten plasteel. He danced through the air, tracer bullets marking his path, with a grace achieved by only the greatest warriors. Then his eyes snapped open. Row after row of noise marines, mounting huge, heavy weapons, were marching onto the battlefield to fill the placed of their maimed brethren. Their orderly marching was stark contrast to the frenzied charging of their shock troops, and above them, Raptors flew with deadly light, their corrupted jump packs disgracing the equipment of Crow. Their was a rumbling, thumping sound and two Obliterators, herded by Marines with Las Shockers, smashed through the reinforced plasteel of the highway, and Slaanesh Dreadnoughts stomped on, accompanied by Land Raiders. The worst part, though, were the things on the Dreadnought’s shoulders. Women, seemingly, but some with disfigured appendages, and all with hideous claws for hands. Yes, even the hardened Space Marines faltered a bit when they saw these insults to the Emperor. Yes, it was these creatures they had heard about, these Daemonettes.
    From this assault, this display of troops, came a feeling, almost like fear, from the pit of Crows stomach. But his tactical mind came in.
    “Take out the Raptors first, those will be the most threat to me. Then kill the heavy weapons troops.?
    He raised one power fist while hovering a good 50 feet above the chaos, pointed it at one of the Raptors coming towards him, and let fly. He let a smile creep across his scarred face as the flesh of the traitor melted, and molten plasteel rained on a Daemonette, killing her --it-- instantly. This would be a challenge worth the Fists of the Emperor!
    He killed another Raptor by sending a short burst of super-heated pyrum petrol into its jump pack, sending the traitor hurdling into the ground. One Raptor barley missed with its plasma pistol, earning him a head-exploding battery to the face, delivered with a passion from Crow’s power fists. The remaining three Raptors were Skirmishing the heavy weapons squads, annoying them, torturing their prey before the kill. But the Marines were better than that. The shriek of a Multi-melta pierced the air, and in a fraction of a second, all traces of a Raptor were gone. Another fell to a Heavy Bolter, the explosive round hitting the flying monstrosity in the head, penetrating its skull before exploding. The carcass fell on a Noise Marine, the sheer weight knocking the gun straight from his hands. The defenseless marine made the mistake of trying to pick it up, shots from many Storm bolters found their mark on his rear armor. The last Raptor was making its way back to the support lines, when a beam of condensed light from a Lascannon evaporated it.
    The Assault squad sprung into action. Swooping high, then low into the trenches, smashing occasional blows into the faces of psychotic marines. The chainswords hummed low and loud, beating a rhythm for the assault marines to follow. The Sergeant dipped low, and held his power sword out, slicing a score of marines in half. But the attack was relentless, and even though the assault was over, the battle had just begun. All of the Chaos marines had lined up, and row upon row of heavy weapons were staring the Emperor’s finest in the face. The Marines retreated back to the trenches, and in the final seconds before the evil glare in the pink-armored commander’s eyes turned into an action, a bright flash lit the sky. Four huge shuttles were making their way down to the battlefield: The armored company had arrived. Accompanying them was an even more pleasant surprise.
    The heavens opened up, and down poured salvation. Beams of light and hundreds of missiles rained upon the Chaos marine’s line. Huge anti-bombardment guns on the citadel opened up, causing the righteous show to end, but it was not the last time these filth would feel the guns of the Emperor’s Hammer. The damage was done, though. All that remained was their armored company, their heavy weapons had been demolished by the attack. The Daemonettes, being the closest ones, closed the distance quickly. The Grey Knights took up arms, ready. The first Daemonette fell into the trench, and looked up the meet a hail of bolter fire. Bam. The Next dozen or so fell to the same fate, but numbers were on the Daemon’s side, and they soon surrounded the Knights. The first Daemonette struck, but as her claw touched the Knight’s armor, it melted and sizzled. Just being around these preachers of faith was dangerous to the Warp spawn, as they soon learned. The Grey Knights struck, their Nemisis Force Weapons wreaking havoc, while their left hand was occupied shooting into the writhing mass of seemingly female bodies. One got extremely close to felling a brother, but a Nemisis Force Halbred triggered his psyker powers, and a huge beam struck it and all the Daemons behind, blinding them and causing them to relinquish grasp of the battle for a moment. Not those to lose time, the Knights spun and struck, flew and danced, and sang death in their way. But one huge obstacle was still in their way.

    Henceforth no man shall set foot upon the world, and all around shall be set sentinals to ward away unwary spacecraft. We must accept that this place is lost to us forever, and is now the eternal habitation of abomination.

    <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE</div><div class='quotemain'>another annoying thing i hate: 47,000 similies in one post. just thoght id throw that in there and see if anybody else hates it as much as i do.</div>

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  3. #2
    Senior Member XV-88's Avatar
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    By the way, I didn&#39;t say this but I do want feedback.
    Henceforth no man shall set foot upon the world, and all around shall be set sentinals to ward away unwary spacecraft. We must accept that this place is lost to us forever, and is now the eternal habitation of abomination.

    <div class='quotetop'>QUOTE</div><div class='quotemain'>another annoying thing i hate: 47,000 similies in one post. just thoght id throw that in there and see if anybody else hates it as much as i do.</div>

  4. #3
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    Good work so far.

    Can&#39;t really comment as it&#39;s just started, altough the part about the morning rituals was interesting...
    Whoso would be a man must be a non conformist
    People should be taught what is, not what should be.

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