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This is a story I started on a whim, I doubt I'll finish it, but I just wanted all you guys here at LO's take on it.
Enjoy :rolleyes:<Insert Title here>
The attack had started at dawn…we had been on this Emperor-forsaken planet, waiting to fight, for three months. THREE MONTHS! And the damn Xenos just kept avoiding us… They could out-run us, and fight on their terms. They were the most horrific things I had ever seen, twisted and evil, a cruel parody of life.
“INCOMING!!” screamed the sentry a moment before he was decapitated by a blade that had whooshed out of the sky. I strained my eyes to see what had happened to him, to find that the blade, was actually some form of Xenos vehicle, ridden by one of their evil compatriots. As soon as that had happened, all of the men of the Vostroyan Firstborn XXII heavy infantry who were able, jumped against the walls of the bombed out building.
In this forsaken city, (known to the men as fortifus mortis, or the fortress of death) we had stopped the Dark Eldar’s advance across the planet to a standstill. The cost to our faithful regiment had been in excess of 4, 000 men. But, by the Emperor, we had stopped them!
“Execute defense plan aegis”, came the call over the local vox. All the men in our building, and the adjacent ones, fixed their bayonets (If they weren’t on already, and few weren’t), and manned windows. Even firing at will, we were disciplined and our accuracy was commendable, if I do say so myself. Man of the now present Eldar that were storming across the street were hit and shredded by our lasguns. Mine was a fine example of its kind, hand-crafted on Vostroya, along with everyone else’s, but as with all Vostroyan equipment, every example was unique.
But, as with all of their attacks, they would not relent. Soon, the Eldar had breached several places in our defensive line. Even though they had made it, they had been sufficiently reduced, to almost a third of their original number. I could hear the hack and slash of close combat, and the screams of my brothers in arms below me.
I jumped down and landed on the back of one of the attackers. It flipped me off his back, and into one of my peers. We slammed into the ground, my comrade jumping up before me, to slash at the nearest Eldar. I followed him swiftly and, disconnecting my bayonet from my gun, joined the fray. By this time, the flying devils that had earlier decapitated our sentry, had stopped harassing our troops with fire, and zoomed in for the kill.
I saw them first. “Look to the sky brothers!” I cried above the din. Several shots went up to meet the quickly closing oppressors. We knew they hit us when several of our troops hit the ground, missing limbs. They had dismounted, and fought on foot. Slashing with their large, double bladed glaives. Each sweep left severed limbs and arteries in their wake. I jumped at the nearest one, and slammed my bayonet into it’s neck, right through it went.
I was shoved into a wall. Turning to face my opponent, I found that private Mjossi had done the pushing, except that the private had no head… Standing above him was (from the looks of him) the leader of the pack. Decked out in black armour, with red on its rims, I couldn’t tell if it was blood, or paint. Covered in skulls (in webbing around its suit), it stalked towards me. I took a fighting stance.
It turned out to be a she, I noticed as she came closed, calm and collected. How could anything be calm in this setting was beyond me. It jumped a good two meters and landed behind me! I ducked instinctively, knowing what was coming. Its blade whooshed over my head, and I rammed my elbow back into her groin area. She stumbled back. I took the brief moment of respite to regain a fighting stance, and begin to charge. Aggressive offence, that’s the key to close combat, keep the pressure up until your opponent makes mistakes. It looked at me, and held out it’s glaive in a pike-like stance. With my bayonet I slashed it aside, and used the momentum to check the creature in the face. I heard cracking. The she-bitch hit the wall hard, and went down. Blood pouring from her nose, she was apparently dazed. I took the opportunity to kill her.
One quick slice to the neck, and there was one less vile Xenos in the glorious Imperium of Man. As soon and she had died, another was upon me. Hitting my in the back of the head with it’s gun. I smashed through a window and into the street. It followed. Its gun, covered in vicious blades, was being swung at me like a halberd.
Something hot went by my ear. At the same moment, the Eldar was flopping on the ground, a hole cut clear through its chest cavity. I took a quick glance up to the roof were the hot-shot had come from. I offered a quick prayer of thanks to the Emperor for the skill of our snipers.
I charged back into the building. The place my platoon had held out for three months, waiting for the enemy, was now a slaughterhouse. Organs and limbs lay everywhere. It was then that I realized I was the last of my platoon. Or, at least, I was after I watched sergeant Bokne viciously murdered by one of the enemy. I was infuriated. I would not stand for this; the Emperor would not stand for this. I knew I had a little chance of winning, but by the Emperor, I was a Vostroyan! Yelling a bestial battle-cry, I charged through the broken remains of the building. The Eldar looked up from their dispatching of the wounded in surprise. I sliced the first one I came upon across the neck-section, and he, it…fell.
Then happened the thing I least expected, they fled. Not a disorderly, route, but a calm retreat. They swiftly exited the building, and raced across the street. Some being gunned down by the now operational heavy bolters in the nearby ammo depot building. But soon they had disappeared. I had survived another day.Chapter one
I lay there for, what was it? I don’t know. I had lost track of time. Re-enforcements arrived to relieve my platoon…or me I should say. Curse these Xenos! Can’t the see that in the end, the Emperor, and Humanity will rule the stars?! Anyway, they commended my bravery, and sent me to the reserve lines, for some R & R.
When I got there, I was surprised to see our H.Q. I don’t know what exactly I was expecting it to look like, maybe something more majestic perhaps. But what lay before me was the same thing I had seen for three months, a bombed-out building. Boarded up with wood, flakboard, anything really.
I was exhausted; I respectfully grabbed an ammo box, and sat down on it. I think I fell asleep; I’m not sure, for all I can remember is being jolted into attention by the announcement of a senior officer in the ranks. “Atten-tion!” called an over-zealous colour sergeant. “At ease,” said the Captain curtly. He was a medium sized man, rather bulky, but then, with all the equipment he had on… You could see he wasn’t a paper-pusher; this man was a Field Captain. He had a modest voice, rather unusual in the Vostroyan Firstborn, due to the fact that all ranking Officers (as far as I am informed) are recruited from nobility. Trained especially for commanding situations.
As the various scribes, long range vox operators, and tacticians went about their previous business, the Captain whispered something in his Colour Sergeant’s ear. The Colour Sergeant pointed in my direction in response. He began to walk to my position in the large room. Suddenly there was a screech of freshly-installed klaxon alarms. “Possible incoming attack!” cried a vox operator. Out of nowhere, men, the elite of the elite, the veteran heavy infantry of the XXII rushed out of anywhere and everywhere. Back rooms and back doors where filled with their movement. They manned fortified positions and aimed out into the streets. Troops hauled ammo up to the guns on the roof, and everyone had a weapon in hand.
We waited. Five minute crept by, then ten. Twenty minutes later the alert was lowered. I swear it happened right away, but I must be mistaken, because post-battle reports claim me wrong. For, a small amount of time after we lowered the alert, they were upon us. Not that we were defenseless...far from it! This was probably the most well defended (and vital) section of our campaign in this bloodstained city.
Klaxons roared again. The sound of the heavy bolters opening fire was deafening. Lasfire lead to the immediate stink of ozone. There were screams, inhuman screams, blood crazed screams.
A section of wall was gone. It was not just blown down…it was vaporized. The gap was filled instantly by the enemy’s elite shock-troops, the deadly wyches! Now the screams were human…
The Eldar fiends cut a swath through our troops, elite troops, who had probably had fifteen plus years of experience, sliced and diced like vegetables. Not that we weren’t making an impact, but they not only outnumbered us, but outclassed us. Heavy Bolt shell rained down from the upper sections of the building. They had been turned inwards and were now being fired through the gap. The enemy faltered. “In the name of the Emperor, into the breach!” the Captain cried, his commanding voice now in full effect. As he said, it was done. Everyone charged through the hole in the wall. Troops, scribes with commandeered weapons, command staff with anything they could find, everyone. There was a roar from the charging crowed, yelling war-cries, battle-oaths, singing, yelling, screaming. Rarely would one find a Vostroyan Firstborn army acting in this state of…collaborated anarchy.
I hacked, was hacked, I bled, and made others bleed. Thus is the rule of war, kill or be killed. I was getting tired out, and beginning to get sloppy and it was costing me. “Die Xenos scum! Know that you stand no chance, and look upon your doom!” screamed the vox-enhanced cry of the Colour Sergeant. There was another Eldar in front of me, it had no helm, and, now that I think of it, was scantly clad as well.
It jumped and landed next to me, slashing my right flank. Pain seared through my body. I felt weakened already, fatigue and blood loss starting to get to me. I jabbed a couple times with my Lasrifle. The Eldar jumped back each time. I simply used the space to blow out its guts. Kill or be killed. I felt a hard thumb on the back of my head. and fell to the ground. Blackness consumed everything.
I awoke to a medic - with his rebreather on - staring me in the face. “He’ll be alright, make sure he doesn’t get up though, he’s lost a lot of blood, and is tired, fatigue, most likely,” trailed the medic’s voice. “I’ll see to that, no hurry, there a lot more men to tend to,” came a voice from my left, I didn’t see who. I still felt tired, more so even than during the fight. I proceeded to slip into a deep sleep.
Was I dead? No, being dead couldn’t hurt this much, could it? I groaned as I got into a semi-sitting position. I looked around, it was night. The lamps were on, and the sentries were making their rounds. Even this far in reserve, those foul Eldar abominations could strike at anything. I looked to my right, to see more sleeping troops, bandages and casts on them. A few were cleaning their Lasrifles, as there was nothing better for a wounded person to do in this army. “Ahh…he awakes,” came a remark from my left. I turned to see the Captain’s Colour Sergeant. “The Captain would like to see you in his offi…errr…’section’.” He paused. ”When your up to it of course.” He finished.
“Umm…yessir! Tel the Captain I’ll be right there!” I replied franticly.
I finished limping into the Captain’s…as the Colour Sergeant had said…section. There were no other words to describe it…except perhaps rubble-strewn bunker. I took a quick glance around. There was a couple of tables, mostly with maps on them, and a couple short-ranged vox-casters. Being a two storey, desecrated building, it had a hole in the roof. Patched up with wood, it just added to the sense of desperateness. In the back there was a curtain hung up, with a light casting the shadow of one man behind it.
“Come in,” said the Captain, his modest voice now in effect again. I did as he said, and slowly and respectively entered his; umm…one could call them ‘quarters’.
“Have a seat,” the Captain said, pouring over a detailed fire plan for an upcoming assault.
“If it is all right with you, sir, I’d respectfully like to stand. It’s my injuries.” I replied as respectfully as I could, knowing that men like him, can make or break men like me. “Oh, pardon me, I wasn’t thinking,” the Captain said, turning to face me. “No need to apologize, sir.”
I have heard that in the past while, since your posting here, you have performed above and beyond the call of duty of the average infantryman.” The Captain said plainly. I was shocked, I was only doing my best in the eyes of the Emperor, isn’t that what was standard and expected? “Thank you sir,” I replied. “Since your platoon has been depleted below operational minimum, you will be assigned to another platoon in the making.” He said, referring to ‘remnant’ platoons, as they were called by the men.
“It would be my pleasure, sir, I live to serve the Emperor,” I said truthfully.
“Hmmm…You know exactly what to say…keep it up, and you could have a promotion in the near future.” The Captain was serious. “Why, thank you sir, I…I just do my duty.”
“And you do it well, keep it up. That will be all, dismissed.” I saluted and left his quarters quietly.
It was then that I realized how hungry I was. “Wonder what’s cooking at this hour,” I said to myself, already knowing the answer. I crept back to my bed, and pulled out a small ration kit. I ripped open the wrapper of some of the Emperor’s Finest Biscuits. The tearing sound had brought a jumpy guard bursting into the room, Lasrifle aimed in my direction. “I surrender, please, take the biscuits, don’t shoot,” I said jokingly. “Hmm…don’t mind if I do…” he ventured. I threw him a couple. “Thanks,” He said as he turned out the door once more.
After nibbling a while, I realized I didn’t know where my Lasrifle was! It was a deep disgrace to loss one’s weapon in the Firstborn, especially a fine, hand-crafted Lasrifle, as was made for me. I asked the guards if they had seen one lying around. They chuckled; “Nope, maybe you should go back to Vostroya and get a new one,” The guard said. I knew this was impossible. Vostroya was far from here… Home…was far from here. I had decided to go to bed, and begin the search anew in the morn.
“Morn meal, wake and get it hot, or sleep and eat biscuits,” called someone down the hall…most likely the ‘cook’. When I say cook, I mean soldier with a burner and a pot of some form of nutrition. I hobbled out of my sleeping bag, and off the ground. I returned to my spot with a bowl of hot stew. Made of something…I couldn’t tell…it was grey, it was all grey.
After I had finished that I heard a call going through the building; “All front line troops from depleted units, assemble in the courtyard behind the building.”
That meant me, so I limped away to the outside.
As I was walking to the door, I noticed several Lasrifles leaning on the wall. “There you are!” I exclaimed. I didn’t even have to get close enough to see the engraved; Yousov Karnman, Vostroyan Firstborn XXII to know it was mine.
The troops had assembled in louse formation in the courtyard. The Captain’s Colour Sergeant popped out of a second storey balcony. “Attention for Captain Garreth Tsev!” He called across the expanse of free ground. Free is hardly appropriate, due to all the rubble, though. All the men snapped to attention in time for the Captain to emerge.
The Captain said something to his Colour Sergeant, and he disappeared into the building. “Men of Vostroya, Men of the Firstborn! You have all fought hard, harder than most. Though your platoons have been depleted, you shall live on with their memories. Honour the dead, celebrate the living. You are now the 331 Platoon of the Vostroyan Firstborn XXII!” He finished his speech in what seemed as one breath. A small cheer went up in the crowd.
As is custom, we were to spend the rest of the day (at least) to get familiar with the people who might die for, or because of you. As I talked and introduced myself, I thought of my old Platoon. I was angry that they had to die, for no good reason. But unlike the misguided troops of…’less disciplined’ regiments, from less disciplined worlds, I did not take out my anger on my superiors. I instead though of the vengeance that would be mine, and I vowed to avenge my fallen comrades. I itched for our next engagement.Chapter 2
The next day, I learned that I and my new platoon were to be used in the upcoming night-assault on a suspected Dark Eldar base. Although I had began to wonder if the Dark Eldar, or any Eldar for that matter, had bases. They seemed to be nowhere when you were looking, and everywhere when you weren’t. But we had been assured we wouldn’t go stumbling into an empty building. Our scouts had checked it out, once a night in fact. They were there all right.
Two Days left until the attack, I was anxious. I had cleaned my Lasrifle at least thrice a day. With my returning health, I was being sent on sentry duty. But I still wanted to fight, to kill. I wanted the enemy dead. I wanted vengeance.
I was woken to the face of the task commander, one lieutenant Jehmal Patterson.
“Come on son, we got to move out before it’s midnight. Want to catch them pansies with their pants down, don’t ya?” He said comically. I replied firmly that I did, and that I wanted them dead as dirt. It was only then I realized that it was a rhetorical question.
We had formed into our squads, and began stealthing through the ruins of Fortifus Mortis, and into the darkness. As we approached our target, a few blocks away, we raised our guard. “Keep a lookout for…lookouts,” said Lt. Patterson. He was a comedian, this man. “Ok men when we get within two hundred meters, the Navy is going to bomb their retreat zone with a promethium napalm mix. This is twofold,” He said, taking a breath. “Firstly, we will make them think that is the direction we are attacking from. Secondly, it will cut off their escape,” he finished. ‘Good,’ I thought, I didn’t want any to survive.
When we had gotten within two hundred meters undetected (as far as we knew), we took up positions. Our few heavy weapons (shoulder mounted missile launchers mostly) were hefted into place in heavy cover. Snipers where in place, and the troops were ready to shoot and storm. “Cccchhhzzzt…Marauder Bomber squad beta-six incoming. Target chhhhzzztt…E.T.A. chzzt, five minutes,” came a burst from the vox.
We waited, one minute, then two, passed. There was a faint noise in the air, a rushing sound. The bombers where here. Several figures rushed overhead at high speeds. Then their sound followed in a sonic boom. Milliseconds later flamers engulfed the opposite side of our target. There were screams and shouts, even some stray shots.
“Fire Mortars!” came the hushed call from Lt. Patterson. Thub thub thub went the mortars. The explosions were heard, and so where the screams. Pain, death, revenge was coming. “OPEN FIRE!” yelled Lt. Patterson. Snipers, who had been picking targets the whole time, dropped the most important looking Eldar. Missiles shrieked down on trails of smoke and smashed into on support on the building. The support was blown out, and the wall fell…the edge of the building seemed suspended for a moment, defying gravity. That short time was all it took for the two heavy bolters to fill the gap with hundreds of armour-piercing, high-explosive rounds. The surprised and shocked Eldar behind the wall were…not there when the building started to fall. The edge of the building crumbled, but the main structure maintained its stability.
‘Good, more to kill,’ I thought as I opened fire on any Eldar I could find. I picked off one from the roof; it fell back into the building. One poked its head out a window with what looked like a very large version of their regular rifles. I was about to blast away at it, when there was a flash and then a hole in his shoulder. He fell from the window and landed on the street. Praise be to the Snipers.
By now, the enemy had realized what was happening, and rallied into a fighting force instead of single opponents. They returned fire into the now ecstatic soldiers of the XXII. Many fell, shredded by the foul weapons of the Eldar. They’re weapons may not be the strongest, but they sure are hard to heal the wounds they inflict.
The enemy, caught between a rock and a hard place, chose fight instead of flight (a wise choice, better to fight and kill, then fly and be routed). I welcomed the chance to kill, murder even, up close. Some of my comrade might have had differing opinions; I think their screams were evidence. I rushed up the line to where the enemy had broken, and blasted Eldar at close range. Punching through armour and flesh, my rifle and bayonet were put to equal use.
I tripped an Eldar that was running at Lt. Patterson. It hit the ground hard. I stabbed him in the back, a small cry of pain as I severed its spine. Something kicked me in the face. I was sent reeling. I looked up in time to see the business end of an Eldar fist make contact with my skull. I fell back even more, blood now flowing from my afflicted body parts. I raised my Lasrifle as a club and swung. The darn wily Eldar ducked and planted three blows to my torso before I had hit the ground. It ran at me only to be impaled on my bayonet.
I got up, and shot down another Eldar, this one on top of a private, Kurr I think his name was. He slumped down on top of the trooper. I saw a rather ‘decorated’ Eldar slicing its way through our thinning lines. Covered in barbaric trophies and symbols, its claw and matching knife left flesh in ribbons on the ground. Heads separated from their bodies was its trademark. It turned to me, somehow sensing my awe at its brutality. I raised my rifle and fired only two shots on full-auto before it landed a flying kick to my shoulder. I saw it stagger as I hit the ground. I had hit it!
I got up as fast as I could. Tearing my bayonet from its rifle attachment, I threw it at the beast, a foolish move. The evil thing caught it in mid-air and threw it back, with incredible speed. I just barely dodged it. The monster leaped forward, leaving dead in its wake. Even with its attentions on me, it could still kill, still massacre.
This time I had the initiative. I smacked it across the face with the butt of my rifle mid-stride. He crumpled. I took to shooting the ever loving crap out of him. My reverie was only broken when the little ammo indicator showed red. I reached for another clip when there was a deafening blast. The ground shook and I toppled. Those bastard Xenos had detonated our small stash of missiles. I only hoped it took some of them with it.
I saw an Eldar falling…no, jumping from the roof…intent on breaking my ribs, if not ending my life. I rolled, he hit, legs broke, screams followed. I jumped up and shot him through the head. I looked around to see that we had won! If at a great cost. There were only 12 soldiers of the original 55.
“Come, quick…arg!….before more Eldar arrive.” called Lt. Patterson to the survivors, he was apparently wounded. “You heard him, let’s move!” I called in a yell-whisper. The survivors followed the lieutenant out, myself included, but not before I retrieved my bayonet from its embedment in a nearby wall.
I was exhausted, and our long way back didn’t help. Our debriefing wouldn’t allow my rest to come any faster either… I had a long night ahead of me.
By the time we got back, I was very tired, very. “Were you successful?” inquired the Captain in the debriefing. “Yes sir,” replied the lieutenant. “We took them by surprise, but even then, we were lucky to have survived,” he said. “If we hadn’t had the initiative, we surely would’ve been wiped out.” This statement chilled me to the bone. I had heard tales of how those devils took prisoners, and how it was better to die then survive. They were master torturers, pain-inducers beyond compare. It is even whispered that they are worse, even, than the Inquisition!
“I see, well, organize the survivors, they will be all be awarded their just rewards.” the Captain said, after a moment of musing. “Yessir!” Patterson said in his militaristic, rehearsed voice of command. “Fall out!” He said to the assembled survivors.
I took to my bedroll, the sounds of heavy artillery soothing my soul into a placated sleep.Chapter 3
I awoke with a start to the sound of a nearby explosion. What time was it? Oh, it didn’t matter anymore; all that mattered was day and night in this grim city. “Hey, you awake?” came a whisper from my left. I turned over to see a trooper with a bionic leg, recently added. “Yeah, I’m up, how long’s the bombardment been going on?” I inquired sleepily. “All night, I can sleep with all the racket,” he replied. I found myself extremely tired, but unable to fall asleep again. “Oh, I see…hey, are there any jobs that need doing? I can’t sleep either.” I asked. “Probably, check out up top, one of the sentries might like a rest.” he replied.
“Hello?” I asked to no one in particular as I climbed up one of the ladders that led to the roof-section. “Who’s there!?” came a sharp reply from the edgy guard. “I’m just looking to see if there are any people who need relief, that’s all.” I replied in my defense.
“Oh, sorry sir,” he said, glancing at my corporal rank insignia on my left shoulder. “No need to call me sir, Trooper…?” “Jyrkn, conscript Lethos Jyrkn, sir, and you are?” He finished that with an overly sharp and jumpy tone. He was obviously scared. Sending in the conscripts?? How desperate was this campaign turning out to be?! We Vostroyans pride ourselves on not needing to press men into involuntary service. Our reason being that nearly our entire standing army is in by his (or her) own choice.
“Yousov Karnman, Corporal of the 331st platoon,” I started, “Need any relieving I finished. “It would be appreciated, sir, this damn city gives me the creeps, and I hate the thought that if this place falls now, it would be my fault.” He stammered. ‘hmmm…drop the blame on someone else? You’re a disgrace to the Firstborn’ I thought. Men like this had no right to spoil Vostroya’s good name by being anything less than good soldiers.
As he descended the access ladder, I took up my post at the top of the building, in a sort of ‘home made bunker’ placed at the top. Looking through my monocular, I could see a city in flames, torn involuntarily out of its normal life, by the intrusion of these vile Xenos monsters. The streets ran red with the blood of the fallen, and buildings that quite probably held content families were shredded and demolished. I hate this city…
There was another nearby explosion. ‘Those artillery boys better watch their aim’ I thought to myself. I thought I could see far off combat, our men being slaughtered by the enemy. ‘No…give them hell brothers, kill them…’ I thought. I almost willed them to fight harder. Suddenly, an armoured tank broke down a building. I couldn’t make out its configuration. My mental questions were answered when the turret threw a column of flame at the enemy. ‘Hellhound, good, make those Xenos burn. ’
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. Well, that isn’t entirely true, it just sure as the Emperor not functioning. A beam of something had hit it. I had only just barely seen the beam pierce the flame, ‘A dark laser?? What witchcraft is this!?’ I was astounded. Dumbstruck.
I realized that I should be sweeping the battlefield for possible attacks. I turned my monocular to the right, then the left. I saw what looked like a fast moving shadow, ‘Raiders.’ I had been here long enough to familiarize myself with the enemy’s vehicle classes and distinguishers. It was moving fast, towards one of our rear ammo-dumps. Supposed to be safe behind our front-line, we had been proven horribly wrong. I thought we had moved all our ammo depots far back.
“Someone get on the Vox, NOW!” I screamed down the ladder. “What’s happening??” came a call from a frantic communications officer. “There is an attack heading for the ammo-dump on…the sixth street from our rear communications bunker!” I replied, yelling every word. “Warn them, immediately!” I called as loud as possible. “Roger!” came the reply.
By now, at least half of the sleeping troops in the building were awake, not that that accounted for a vast majority of the garrison. As per protocol, we were to go on full alert when a nearby strongpoint was attacked. The Veterans, resplendent in their heavy armour, marched out in neat rows. Very organized, very disciplined. The epitome of Vostroyan fighting men.
I watched helplessly as the raiders overtook the building…too late had the vox-warning come… It was partially my fault, for not doing my duty properly. I guess I could blame it on the sleep, but then I’d be no better than that conscript I had taken over for. No, it was my fault, and I would have to live through that…If I could first live through this damn war.
I was relived after the alert had been lifted. The raiders had left the building shortly after detonating its ammo supplies. I fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
I was in a field. A field filled with dead bodies. I looked up at the sky, it was night. I sat up, looked around to see the dismembered bodies of my comrades, my commanders, my brothers. Suddenly, there was a slight buzzing sound. I knew it was them, those cursed aliens. Raiders flashed past me, many Raiders. Had they not seen me? Or were they ignoring me on purpose. As I contemplated this, I realized I couldn’t move from my spot.
As I tried to move, I heard a sound from the direction the Raiders came from. Could they be fleeing? Probably, they are cowardly Xenos. But what were they fleeing?? I squinted as I tried to see farther, but the more I squinted, the darker it got. It got so dark, that soon, I could only see about four or five meters from where I sat.
As I tried pointlessly to see, I heard another sound, a shuffling. Was it just the wind in the grass? No, there was something out there… I saw a glimpse of something black and shinny in the darkness. Strange, that I could see something black in this light… Then I saw them, hundreds, no, thousands, no…I couldn’t count them. Tyranids.Chapter 4
I woke with a start, drenched in sweat, with my peers staring at me. They were silent, a look of sheer horror and surprise on their faces. “By the Emperor, are you alright?” someone asked, breaking the awkward silence. “Yes, I just…I…what are you all staring at me for?” I asked in my defence. “You…you were jerking, and stuttering, kicking and rolling. You were having a seizure!” called several of the crowd. “Move, now!” came a voice from behind the crowd, which was now dispersing, albeit suspiciously. It was the Colour Sergeant. “Come with me.” He said, it was not a demand, as much as it was a statement. “Yes, sir, just let be grab my…” “Now.” he said firmly. I walked nervously down the wrecked hallway and over rubble-strewn floors, back to the Captain’s quarters.
“The men say that you were having a seizure, do you have any health problems we don’t know about? There is not room for sick men in this army.” He was calm, and collected as he said this, but his voice demanded utter compliance. “No, sir.” I replied, never saying more than I had to, in case I got in trouble for something. “Are you sure?” He repeated his question. “Yes, sir, very sure.” I said once more. “All that was happening was a bad dream, sir, that’s all.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, sir, I am.” There was silence for a while, then the Captain said; “Very well, dismissed. Oh and Corporal, I hope you don’t have any more bad dreams.” He said, getting back to his thankless work.
I walked back to my bedroll, and lay down. What a strange and unsettling dream. Why Tyranids? I had only faced them once, but I remember them…Oh I remember all too well. One never forgets their first encounter with the ravenous, mindless murder machine that is the Tyranids.
The next day, we were paraded out into the courtyard to receive a Commissar assigned to our Section by High Command. “Atten-tion!” came the tell-tale call of the Colour Sergeant. We all snapped into attention. A chimera pulled up, and the back hatch swung open. Out walked the Commissar. “Commissar Jules Sakolov,” Rang the Vox-enhancer of the Colour Sergeant. We all saluted. He saluted back, and then walked up to the Captain. They saluted each other, and then walked off into the building. “Dismissed!” called the Colour Sergeant.
Later, while cleaning my Lasrifle for the third time that day, I overheard some troopers talking. “Did you hear why the Commissar was assigned to our Section?” Said the first, as I was cleaning my rifle, I couldn’t see them. I think they were in the next room. “No, we don’t have disciplinary problems, do we?” replied the second. “No, no, no, no. That’s not the reason, word is he is here due to potential unchecked psykers,” said the first. Psykers? That was preposterous.
As I sat there cleaning my rifle, the new Commissar strode by. It was my first time getting a good look at his face. He had a scar running the length of his face. His medals were a testament to his longitivity. He carried his ceremonial power sword in its embroidered sheath. His Greatcoat loosely worn, buttoned up to a little above half way. He had a holster in which looked to be a Laspistol. He affected a Vostroyan traditional fur hat, instead of the usual peaked cap. The front of it bore the Aquila with its wings outstretched, with a pair of swords behind it. As he walked by, I saluted him. He seemed to take no notice.
I finished with my Rifle, and decided to see what there was to help with. I found some Techpriests in need of an extra hand to hold things in place while they chanted the correct litanies of activations and preservation. I only then realized how time-consuming the Adeptus Mechanicus’ job was, because by the time we were done, the sun had long been set, and I was exhausted from my lack of sleep. I returned to my bedroll and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
I was in the field again, and it was dark once more. I looked up into the sky, expecting for the same thing to happen, this was the third time I’d had this dream this week. The Raiders flew by, oblivious to my sitting there. The darkness began to close in, as expected. But however long I waited, no Tyranids came. Then I was suddenly in pain, tremendous pain. The most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced. It was almost as if my head was to explode! I was wreathing on the ground, as if held down by some force, I struggled against it. I heard a voice in my head, not spoken in words, so much as an idea. ‘man-thing, food.’ Where had this come from? The pain was gone, but my head still ached with the previous infliction. I woke once again, drenched in sweat. No one was watching me that time, as far as I knew.
I heard from more gossip in the group, that the fleet above the planet had recently been re-enforced by troops from Mordia. The Iron Guard they call themselves. I also caught wind of reports of Navigators and Astropaths being disturbed by something in ‘the warp’. I thought it was best to not mettle or even think of anything related to those strange, sub-humans. “Yousov? Corporal Karnman?” came the calling of a young private walking overenthusiastically-swift down the hallway. “Yes?” I replied. “Captain wants to see you sir,” he said. “Ok, I’ll be right there.”
“Captain, sir, you wanted me?” I called into his quarters. “Yes, come in Corporal,” came the reply. “Corporal, you say you’ve had several bad dreams, of very disturbing qualities,” he said. “You say that you had dreams of our quarry fleeing, and Tyranids coming?” “Yes sir,” I replied cautiously. “Hmm…” the Captain said to himself. “That will be all, dismissed,” he said. “Yes, sir,” ‘what a strange meeting…’ I thought to myself as I left.
More to come soon!!!
-The God of all Machines
Last edited by The_Omnissiah; November 29th, 2006 at 06:17.
No one likey? ...Ok...:sleep:
-The God of all Machines
It's excellent.. though I think you'd do better in the fiction section with something of this length. Still, it was more than worth the read.
One thing which made me smile.. the epilogue generally goes at the end. It's the prologue which is at the beginning.
TOTALLY AWSOME!!!! Im not a big vostroyan expert or anything but that seemed to be dead on, so tu-shay(yeah i dont speak french) and keep it coming. Im not very good with titles, but put soemthing sutibly dark in there. Yeha kill the xenos!!!:w00t:
" These kroot fascinate me. I sense a changing, a capability of loving the emperor. We, the Ordo Xenos, fight the alien's hatred of the emperor, not its skin."
- Inquisitor Tiberius Extius
READ "THE EMPEROR' CLENSERS" in FLUFF
I read snips and snaps. The bits i read were all excellently written and it had a lot of character.
Do more! Or i shall fling faeces at you.
LO RulesOriginally Posted by AnonymousOriginally Posted by Cyric
Last edited by The_Omnissiah; November 29th, 2006 at 06:18.