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I've never really been good at writing fluff, but heres my newest attempt.
Please tell me if its any good or what i can do to improve it.
Twenty of Dorn’s finest stood silent in front of the gates. The blast ridden buildings around them was full of choking dust from the recent orbital bombardments. Epistolary Orion looked upon this sight with sadness. Verunda had once been a paradise, a city worthy of praise. There had once been beautiful gardens on every corner, leaving a fresh sent through the city streets. Now all that remained were the smuldering ruins that lay before the fortress; The last refuge left on the planet.
Orion Knew they would be coming soon. He predicted they would definately attempt to break through to the east geat, as well as the one they were personally guarding. He muttered into his Com link, Attempting to reach the scout captain. “Move into position.”. “Affirmative, we will move into the abandoned complex right of Victories Gate. Those bastards have a little surprise waiting for them,” replied a voice scrambled in static. Orion nodded his head as a gesture towards Codicier Phobos “They are almost here. Ready your men.” “Understood” replied Phobos in a grim tone, “Men! Take careful aim, and fire as soon as the traitors come within your range.”
Their treacherous feet marched through the streets. Clad in black and red armor, adorned with grisly trophies of shrunken heads, the traitors advanced with murderous determination. Besides them marched death and decay, bloated and rotten. Slithering hulks of armor and sludge.
As the heralds of death came into view, Phobos felt sick in his stomach. Even from this far away, he could taste a salty bitty tast from in the back of his mouth, and along with it came a ungodly sent. It smelled of rotting meat. Appalled by these sensations, Phobos ordered his men; “Ignore the traitors, fire at the abominations” Bolt after Bolt rained down upon their green rotting flesh, tearing disease-ridden chunks of flesh from their bones and hurling flesh in bloody chunks. Volley after volley cut through their bulk, yet they shambled forward, leaving bubbling slime in thier wake.
They were close now, very close. Phobos met eyes with one of the abominations. They say the eyes are a window into the soul, but he could see only emptiness within its orbs. Suddenly, a shrieking battle cry echoed through the streets as it hurled a rotten and disfigured head amid the marines. With a squeaking slush it exploded into a swirling green mist, engulfing the marines in its vile fog. The Three marines closest to the head when it exploded slowly began rotting away. Phobos saw one of them on his hands and knees. The marine looked up a moment, his helmet melted, exposing his guant, skeletal face withering away.
“Abandon position!” Orion screamed to his marines. They dashed through the mist, disoriented and confused. Orion, Chaplain Huron, and a good number of marines ran into an inviting alley between two dilapidated stone structures. Phobos and the others were lost in the mist.
Without warning, the decaying men emmerged from the fog. They were surprisingly fast considering thier bulk, catching the marines unprepaired. The next few moments were a flurry of spewing blood set to the roar of whirling chainsword. Bloody chunks of yellow armor, scattered and covered with corosive slime. All seemed lost.
Codicier Phobos gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his staff. He lunged headfirst and with a mighty swing, the crackling energy of his force staff knocked several traitors into oblivion. The marines fought with a fervish that only an astares could muster, but it was all in vain. In truth, it was only a matter of time. They were outnumbered. They would not hold long.
Phobos cuaght a gleam of yellow hope as more imperial fists emerged from a nearby alley. They were lead by Led by no other than Orion himself, holding his power glaive straight out as if pointing to his foe. The marines fell upon the traitors with vicious intention, and that was when the slaughter began. It lasted mere seconds, and when it was over the ground was filled with the Mangled, rotten limbs and broken green power armor.
Reveling in thier victory, the marines felt releaf that they had made it. They had survived. Even with victory, the best news was yet to come.
“Sir, we’ve done it, we’ve replied them from victories gate!” A voice said over Orions COM link. It was over, Orion thought to himself, At least for today.
Last edited by Koss; June 1st, 2007 at 21:13. Reason: Update story after advise
That is not dead which may eternal lie,
for in strange aeons even death may die.
Not bad, but it needs work. Give me scent and sound, thought and action. What kind of stench is rolling off the rotted carcasses of the Death Guard? Acidic, sweet, brackish or acrid? Are their limbs twisted and changed, do they walk with a broken gait? Give us details like how the marines killed by the toxic cloud clawed at their throats as they died. When the librarian thought it was the end what sort of final prayer ran through his mind? If you can make the story more than 'some of us die, some of them die, we win.' then your writing will be on a higher level.
(><) This is Dead Bunny.
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